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Staples Center, Los Angeles.
The pre-game warmups were underway, with both teams going through their routines. On the sidelines, Kenny Smith and Charles Barkley were already turning the broadcast into part game preview, part comedy show.
"Hey, remember this summer when Sterling joked that Dolan was broke?" Kenny chuckled.
Barkley laughed. "Yeah, but I think Dolan's probably the happiest he's ever been not spending money right now. Man's never had this kind of success with his wallet closed."
Out on the court, Lin Yi jogged toward the Clippers' end during warmups and exchanged a quick handshake with Blake Griffin. Griffin, full of confidence in his home building, was still unsettled by the crowd. Something felt… off.
Griffin sighed. He couldn't shake it—he had been stuck in Lin Yi's shadow for too long. The last thing he wanted tonight was another chapter of that nightmare.
Lin, on the other hand, was all smiles. As they dapped up, he leaned in and jabbed playfully, "Looking forward to meeting you in the playoffs, Blake—oh wait, my bad… assuming you guys make the playoffs."
Griffin blinked. His mouth opened, but no comeback came.
Not that he could say anything anyway. Lin was standing next to Shaquille O'Neal, who was in full big brother mode tonight. Griffin might have been fearless on the court, but even he wasn't crazy enough to mess with the Big Aristotle.
Meanwhile, courtside royalty had arrived. Jack Nicholson, the Lakers' ever-loyal frontman, was in his usual seat. Though lately, rumors had it that he'd been showing up to Clippers games more often—something about showing the Clippers the boss of the Staples Centre.
Even Megan Fox was there, fresh off her Transformers fame. What caught people's eye, though? She was wearing a Knicks jacket.
Griffin noticed it immediately and sighed again. One of his favorite celebrity fans had defected.
Lin, naturally, had taken a picture with her before the game.
Clippers coach Vinny Del Negro—who had clashed with the Knicks back when he coached the Bulls—was now trying to build something with this young Clippers squad. He'd watched plenty of Knicks tape. He thought the Clippers matched up well. On paper, at least.
And the Clippers did have a promising lineup: DeAndre Jordan and Blake Griffin in the paint, Mo Williams and Eric Gordon providing scoring punch from the perimeter. Ryan Gomes at small forward wasn't flashy, but he was serviceable.
Off the bench, Eric Bledsoe—nicknamed Mini LeBron by the locals—brought fire.
If the Clippers were in the East, Del Negro figured they'd be a solid playoff team.
The starting fives were now displayed on the big screen overhead.
The jump ball at center court was between Lin Yi and Jordan. A slightly mistimed toss by the ref neutralized Lin's height advantage, and Jordan tipped it cleanly.
Pre-game media chatter had hyped up the Griffin vs. Lin showdown, but the Knicks were smarter than that. Tonight, it would be Chandler who'd take on Griffin defensively. Lin had other responsibilities.
No need to get dragged into Blake's emotional chaos.
Still, Griffin came out fired up. You could see it in his eyes. His teammates could too. Mo Williams cleared out, giving Griffin space for an isolation.
He didn't waste time—one hard dribble, and he drove right into Chandler's chest.
Despite the contact, Griffin powered through. This wasn't a dunk.
One arm, pure force. A classic Meteor Slam. It wasn't pretty, but it was violent—and the crowd loved it.
"Man's built like a wrecking ball," Barkley said.
The Clippers were on the board first, and Griffin's slam drew roars from the Staples crowd.
More fans had been showing up for Clippers games lately, especially with the Lakers in decline. The tide was slowly turning.
Back on defense, Lin jogged over to Chandler. "You got the wingspan over him. Don't let him get close. Force him to shoot over you."
Lin had trained with Blake in the summer. He knew Griffin's jumper wasn't reliable. Not yet. Give him room, and he'd hesitate.
Lin's three-point shooting had dipped this season—down to 39.9%—but at least most of his shots were contested. Griffin's were often wide open… and still bricked.
The Knicks' first offensive possession ran through Lin. Del Negro had planned for DeAndre Jordan to cover him, but Griffin had asked for the assignment, and Del Negro hadn't refused.
Now, the crowd started stirring again. Griffin's fans were barking. "Let's go, Blake! D him up!"
Lin stared him down, amused. "Man, this guy's stubborn," he muttered under his breath.
Then, he went to work.
Right fake→ burst left → hesitation → cross → jab right → full drive left.
Griffin was on roller skates.
Lin suddenly snapped behind the back, blew past Griffin, and glided into the paint. The crowd gasped as Blake stumbled, losing his balance. He collapsed backwards onto the hardwood.
Staples got quiet for a beat.
Barkley roared. "That's another tombstone for a guy this season! Lin Yi—ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novelꜰire.net
DeAndre Jordan rose to contest, but it was too late. Lin had already cocked it back.
Megan Fox with the Knicks fans, jumped out of her seat, screaming, "M-V-P! M-V-P!"
The building erupted. Suddenly, half of Staples looked like it had switched sides.
Griffin sat up, dazed. "What just happened…?"
Lin's dunk had shifted the entire building.
He jogged back on defense, making his gun shot celebration to the Knicks' crowd.
And the night was just getting started.
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