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Chapter 150: 4 AM Handles Club
🕑 Added 2025-05-27 15:24:02 +0000 UTCDecember 9, 2009
After the Knicks beat the Blazers, they got a rare three-day break. Lin Yi, lounging around, couldn't help but sigh, “Man... even in this timeline, Oden still couldn’t escape the curse.”
Just yesterday, Greg Oden had banged knees with Brandon Jennings during a game against the Bucks. After the game, the MRI results came back: not good. The Blazers' medical staff decided he needed another surgery.
And just like that, the once highly anticipated big man was out for the season. Again.
“It's fate,” Lin Yi muttered to himself. “Even with the timeline shift, that knee still can’t handle the NBA grind.”
But seriously, what is going on in Portland? Lin Yi couldn’t help but joke to himself: Shouldn’t they hire a whole squad of veteran monks to bless that place or something?
Bill Walton might not complain—at least he got them a ring—but Oden? And then there’s Roy, too. Lin thought. Nah. Just rename them the Knee Terminators at this point.
And it wasn’t like it ended there. Lin Yi clearly remembered that even in the future, when the Blazers signed Festus Ezeli, who had been doing just fine with the Warriors, bam, done with a calf injury.
One after another, tough dudes dropping like flies.
...
Back at the Knicks training facility, Lin Yi was locked in a one-on-one with David Lee when Lee cracked a grin and said, “Bro, you’re blowing up on YouTube.”
Lin Yi sighed. “Man, and I’m not even trying. I didn’t ask to go viral.”
In just a few games, Lin had embarrassed Dalembert, Ryan Anderson, and poor Greg Oden. One by one, they’d become memes.
Centers getting crossed by another center? That’s not something you see every day.
Clips of Lin Yi wrecking opponents were everywhere online. His highlight videos kept racking up views, and even American fans were joking that if Justin Bieber wanted his spot back on YouTube, he might need to pee in public again.
Lin Yi was rolling on the floor when he read this.
...
David Lee was starting to crack.
He was beginning to genuinely feel bad for any center that had to face Lin Yi. It wasn’t that they were bad—it was just that Lin Yi was ridiculous.
David Lee has been training with Lin starting yesterday in the early morning till they dropped. He had quick feet in the paint and wasn’t too shabby on defense either. He could live with losing in the post... but Lin Yi wasn’t even posting up—he was dribbling around like a damn wing. And at 7'2"?
The only small consolation for David Lee? Lin Yi couldn’t stop him on offense either. David had an arsenal—mid-range shots and that sneaky left hand. Still, it was cold comfort.
Lin Yi felt like the 1v1s with David were perfect practice. To conserve energy for games, Lin didn’t always go hard on defense. D’Antoni had even pointed it out: Lin was easily the Knicks’ best pick-and-roll and perimeter defender. He moved fast, covered ground like a gazelle, and could block shots from behind with that insane wingspan.
Lin Yi wanted to tell Coach, “You know I used to train with Curry, right?” Even if Steph wasn’t the monster he’d become in the future, his handle was already elite.
That’s why most teams didn’t even bother running pick-and-rolls at Lin Yi. Which, ironically, made life harder for David Lee.
Normally, in the NBA, teams would run pick-and-rolls to exploit their bigs. But with Lin around? Poor David had to guard bruisers like Shaq and Dwight while Lin floated outside, wreaking havoc.
“God, stop crossing me up already,” David panted after getting shaken yet again.
Not that David was a stiff—NBA bigs could dribble too—but Lin’s crossover? It was something else.
Even Durant’s handles looked tame in comparison. At least in David Lee’s eyes, Lin Yi was on another level.
At this point, David Lee felt lucky—really lucky—that Lin Yi was on his team.
Because if they ever had to face off in a real game?
Forget it. Lin was a nightmare to guard.
Now he understood why the Lakers were throwing small forwards at Lin Yi. Lee had gone up against guys like Gasol and Bynum, and he was sure—absolutely sure—neither of them could stay in front of Lin.
The truth was, Lin Yi wasn’t your typical elite big. He wasn’t bullying people down low or crashing the paint with brute force. Nah—he was out here wearing a center’s jersey and playing like a guard.
That was the real cheat code.
A guy this tall, moving this fast, with this much coordination?
It was just unfair.
After practice, Lin wasn’t done. He waved David Lee over for more one-on-one work.
Lee didn’t hesitate. Lin had changed the way he looked at the game. At this point, he didn’t even see Lin as a big man anymore—he was a tall point guard.
And for Lin Yi?
His Ankle Breaker badge was leveling up like crazy.
...
December 10.
Lin was up by 4 a.m. No practice scheduled that morning, but he still hit the gym for a solo session.
And right after that?
He called David Lee and woke him up.
Lee groaned when he picked up, but still showed up. Honestly, he’d gotten a lot out of training with Lin. He knew he wasn’t moving his feet enough on defense, so he’d started adjusting—retreat steps, body angles, the whole nine yards.
Lin, for his part, kept working on his dribble. He avoided jumpers on purpose; he needed to grind the system. If the system didn’t see the dribble, it didn’t count.
“Man,” David said, catching his breath after another tough set. “If you're guarding someone who can’t shoot, sure, you can play off. But you? You’ve got the pull-up, you’ve got the handle... It’s a nightmare for any big.”
Lin nodded. He knew his strengths—and his limits.
Big men with heavy handles usually paid the price in their knees. But thanks to his system, Lin didn’t have to worry about that. His body got patched up constantly. He just needed to build his body and could keep playing this flashy, high-impact style without fear of breaking down.
...
After that session, Lin’s Ankle Breaker badge officially leveled up to Gold.
Suddenly, all kinds of advanced crossovers, combos, and footwork felt smooth, like they were burned into his muscle memory.
During a water break, Lin grabbed a few balls and started messing around—spinning, palming, dropping streetball moves like he was filming an And1 mixtape.
David Lee had just taken a big gulp of Gatorade when he saw it, and practically spat it out.
“Bro,” he choked, wiping his mouth. “I swear, your handle is better than half the guards in this league. Are you sure you’re a center?”
Lin just shrugged.
He wasn’t gonna argue. Bronze Pro-level point guard position, Gold-level Ankle Breaker badge, years of dribbling from his old guard days... He had receipts.
Honestly, he was confident his handle was better than a lot of starting NBA point guards.
And the scariest part?
Nobody dared put a guard on him.
You wanna throw a small forward his way?
Be their guest—most of them didn’t have the stamina to chase Lin around screens and bang with him inside. That matchup was a death sentence in the fourth quarter.
That’s why the badge upgrades mattered so much.
Lin knew teams were watching film. He knew scouting reports were being updated after every game.
If he stopped improving, or if they figured out how to trap him?
The Knicks would be in real trouble.
Progress wasn’t optional.
It was survival.
