Lin Yi blew past him and whipped a no-look pass under the basket—
Boom! David Lee cut in perfectly, caught it in stride, and laid it in like clockwork. First bucket of the night: Knicks.
"Man, I'll never get tired of that kind of pass!" Barkley said, shaking his head.
Kenny Smith chuckled, hesitating before joining in. "Another night, another Top 5 play. Lin always gives the fans a show."
On the court, Lin Yi and David Lee slapped palms.
"Lou," Lin said, glancing at Lou Williams, "don't forget what Coach went over before the game."
Lou nodded, "Relax. I got it all in my head."
Though honestly... he still didn't quite get the game plan. Why this setup?
But hey, he wasn't gonna question D'Antoni. Not after the second chance he'd been given in New York. Back in Philly, sure, he had touches—but here? Here, he could see the All-Star line.
After the bucket, the Thunder took it out. Westbrook glanced at Lou Williams, his expression sour. He was already fuming.
Especially when Durant got the ball, and Harrington came in hard with physical D—nothing like Lou's half-hearted effort on the other end.
Westbrook shot a look at Durant.
Durant, for his part, had already clocked what the Knicks were doing. The defense? It wasn't about stopping Russ. It was all about locking him down.
No hesitation—Durant passed it right back.
Westbrook motioned for a screen, but then blinked.
Wait a sec. Is Lou just... letting me through?
Yup.
Westbrook exploded—first step, gone.
But the Knicks were ready. Lin Yi and David Lee switched like clockwork, rotating over to help.
Westbrook wasn't dumb. Coach Brooks had warned him: Don't challenge Lin Yi at the rim unless you want your shot sent into the bleachers.
He stopped short, pulled up, and let fly with a stuttery jumper.
Swish.
Ugly? Yeah. But points are points.
The crowd roared.
Westbrook scowled. Being underestimated? That lit a fire under him every time.
Back on defense, Lou gave Lin a helpless shrug. "Man, are we sure we wanna bait him into scoring? He's already in kill mode."
Lin didn't blink. "Better him than Durant. Just stick to the plan, Lou."
He knew what the numbers said. Russ was electric—but streaky. And inefficient. If he wanted to chuck up jumpers all night? Let him.
The Knicks had one job this quarter: slow Durant. Let Russ cook—just not lead.
Because this wasn't peak triple-double Russ yet. He could drive, sure—but not organize a whole offense. And besides, the Knicks didn't have a Durant-stopper. So they were rotating Chandler, Harrington, and Gallinari—throwing the kitchen sink at him.
Letting Westbrook feel like the hero? That was part of the trap.
Next Knicks possession: Lin Yi stepped up to set a screen for Lou.
Westbrook, still burning, shoved through the screen hard, trying to send a message: Don't mess with me.
Lou didn't force it. After using the pick, he gave it right back to Lin, who moved to the high post. David Lee sprinted in to screen for Harrington, who curled up for a look—but Durant jumped the pass, knocked it loose. Shot off.
"Damn, this Thunder team's just oozing with athleticism," Kenny muttered.
Chuck nodded. "Yeah, it's that raw talent. Just overwhelms you."
They'd see it in the future—in '12, when the Thunder bulldozed the Spurs out of the playoffs with pure energy. No fancy schemes. Just talent-on-talent, brute force.
Thunder's ball again. Westbrook saw the space—and boom, another bucket.
The crowd was rocking. The DJ led the chants:
"RUSSEELLLL—!"
"WESTBROOK—!"
Durant jogged up and slapped Westbrook's back. He didn't always like Russ's attitude, but damn if he didn't show up when it mattered.
On the bench, Coach Brooks exhaled.
Two quick possessions in, and the Knicks looked... kinda lost.
"Lou Williams wants to get into a scoring battle with us?" Brooks thought, amused. "He's good, but come on—Russ brings both ends of the floor."
Meanwhile, the Knicks weren't panicking. They slowed the tempo on purpose. Trying to run with the Thunder was a suicide mission. The faster you played, the faster the Thunder bit back.
This time, Lin Yi posted up deep.
Jeff Green tried to hold his ground, but he was giving up size and weight. Lin backed him down—once, twice—drawing a double from Krstic.
Lin Yi whipped a no-look, behind-the-head pass right into David Lee's hands, and Lee didn't even hesitate—he went up strong and threw down a two-handed dunk.
Score tied at 4-4. Thunder ball.
Now, this Thunder team? Still a work in progress. Ibaka's still figuring things out, Perkins isn't here yet, and their interior defense is… well, basically nonexistent. The Knicks weren't sweating the pace—slowing it down played right into Lin Yi's hands, literally.
The Knicks hustled back on defense, shutting down the Thunder's fast break chances. But Westbrook was feeling it. Third time down, third straight jumper—and it dropped.
4-6. The Thunder leads.
And then came the chirping.
"Yo, I thought y'all were supposed to be the offensive squad? What, you scared to go at me?" Westbrook taunted Lou Williams as they jogged back.
"Man, you softer than peanut butter!" he added, clearly trying to get under Lou's skin.
Lou just smiled and shook his head. "You can talk all you want. Lin says you're the best defensive guy in the league. I'm not dumb enough to go iso on that."
Westbrook blinked. "…Wait, what?"
That wasn't the script. He was expecting a jawing match, maybe some trash talk about his jumper or how he couldn't guard a chair. He had a whole routine ready—something about shutting peanut butter up with a dunk and then flexing on him.
Instead… that?
And was that a compliment?
So when the Knicks scored again and Westbrook got a breather walking it up the court, he turned to Lou.
"Yo. He said that? Lin said I'm the best defensive player?"
Lou nodded casually, eyes on the game. "Yep."
Westbrook's chest puffed out a little. His opinion of Lin Yi went up immediately.
Didn't expect that dude to respect him like that. And sure, he'd rather be praised for his offense, but coming from the league's most hyped player? That felt pretty damn good.
Next possession, Westbrook got the ball again, shook off Lou with a quick crossover, and pulled up.
Splash.
6-8, Thunder up by two.
Lin Yi raised an eyebrow. "Man... he's really on one tonight."
And yeah, Westbrook was. But it wasn't like people expected him to be. Back in high school, he was just 5'8", barely 140 pounds, totally overlooked. Everyone thought his teammate, Khelcey Barrs, was the future NBA star. Tragically, Khelcey passed away, but Westbrook? He never forgot him.
That's why he chose UCLA—Khelcey's dream school. That's why he trained like a man possessed, just to get a chance. No one thought he'd even play college ball. But he kept grinding, grew to 6'2", bulked up, and became a terror on defense.
At UCLA, he had to fight for minutes behind Collison and Afflalo, so he doubled down on what he could control—locking guys up and working on his jumper. He wasn't handed anything. He earned it.
That's why Presti took him 4th in the '08 draft. He wasn't just betting on talent—he was betting on that obsession, that edge.
Kobe once said Westbrook reminded him of himself. Lin Yi understood why. They were both obsessive, both wired differently. If Lin weren't so focused on basketball, he'd probably have a crazy nightlife.
So, when Lin told Lou to respect Westbrook's defense? That wasn't lip service. That was real. He meant it.
But admiration or not, the Knicks still had a job to do.
Lin glanced at the scoreboard. Just over a minute left before his scheduled rest. He had to keep things tight.
Letting Westbrook take over would tilt the whole game. And if they were gonna give him that jumper, he better keep making it—because Lin wasn't about to let him waltz into the paint.
One stop at a time.
...
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