1 Bonus chapter for 200 powerstones
1 Bonus chapter for 300 powerstones
1 Bonus chapter for 400 powerstones
...
"Brother, you feel that?" D'Antoni leaned over during the Knicks' afternoon scrimmage, eyes still on the court. "Is it just me, or has Lin's handle gotten quicker? Like—his rhythm's different."
Third assistant coach Dan D'Antoni put on a thinking face. "Now that you mention it… yeah, it does feel like he's faster again. I heard he's been grinding—extra shots, and he's been dragging David into one-on-ones lately. Ball's really on a string."
Mike D'Antoni nodded. "Figures. You really gotta watch closely to see it. The changes are subtle, but if you're guarding him? You feel it."
That was the thing with Lin Yi. His improvement wasn't flashy. It wasn't in-your-face. But the moment you tried to stay in front of him? That's when you knew.
"Man," D'Antoni muttered, half to himself, "it's like trying to guard Penny Hardaway in his prime. A lot of guys in the league can do what he does in drills. But doing it full-speed, mid-game, with a body in your face? Whole different world."
That's why some NBA benchwarmers went overseas and turned into MVPs. In leagues like the CBA, IBA and IBL, the physical pressure wasn't the same. You had space, time. Over there, you could cook. Here? Every inch was earned.
Wanting a closer look, D'Antoni had Chandler, their best defender, shadow Lin in the scrimmage. Sure enough, Lin wasn't blowing by Chandler as easily, but Chandler was working. And judging by his grimace?
Lin was still giving him fits.
D'Antoni rubbed his chin. Did this kid just break through his ceiling?
In the NBA, it wasn't rare to see guys get stuck—talented players who hit a wall and just... stayed there. But then there were the rare ones, the outliers. Guys who suddenly got it. Who leveled up like a light switch flipping on.
And Lin? He might be one of those guys.
"Dan," D'Antoni said quietly, "we gotta start building around this kid. I'm thinking… second quarter, run him as point with Darko. Let him run the second unit."
It wasn't the first time Lin had filled in as point guard, especially during that three-game West Coast stretch. But now that Lou Williams was in the mix, Lin would usually slide back to center with the bench squad.
Still, D'Antoni didn't want to waste that brain of his.
The kid saw the court like a seasoned vet. Calm under pressure. Smart as hell. Honestly? D'Antoni hadn't seen that kind of poise since Duncan.
Then again... thinking of Duncan always made him grumble.
Whatever, he told himself. You had Duncan, Pop. Now I've got Lin Yi.
...
December 11.
The Knicks rolled into New Orleans... and yeah, those famous roadside barbecue joints? Complete scam. The team ended up at some sketchy spot for grilled wings. Most of the guys left hungry and suspicious.
This was their second matchup with the Hornets this season. First time around, the Knicks took the W at home.
Since then, the Hornets had been a mess. Barely scraping 50% wins, and the tension between Chris Paul and head coach Byron Scott was all over the media.
Reporters kept bringing up Scott's ugly breakup with Jason Kidd back in the day. Different team, same problems.
Still, Scott kept playing it cool for the cameras. "We'll make the playoffs," he told reporters. "As long as the guys follow my system, we'll be back in the top eight."
Word was, CP3 nearly walked out of practice after hearing that.
What Tactics?
Chris Paul probably scoffed to himself
Paul really wanted to sit down with Scott, draw up a few plays, and explain to him what real tactics looked like.
Because seriously—wasn't the Hornets' entire playbook just Paul running pick-and-rolls all game? Pick-and-roll, iso, pick-and-roll, iso—rinse and repeat.
Even the fans could draw that up, damn it.
Paul had always suggested Scott learn a thing or two from the Suns or Knicks. In Paul's mind, the Hornets weren't short on shooters—guys like Peja Stojakovic and Marcus Thornton could let it fly. People kept saying he hogged the ball, but the truth was, Paul wanted someone to take some of the load off him. He wanted to share the ball, not own it.
It wasn't until Houston that Paul finally got a taste of fun—real basketball. Finally got to the Western Conference Finals, too. People forget, Paul's IQ is off the charts. He knows his limits. He's not delusional—at 6-foot-nothing, you can't just keep launching attacks non-stop. That's not how you win.
He'd seen Iverson's story. That style doesn't win rings. Paul didn't want to just be the assist king—he wanted to win. And if it meant sacrificing stats, so be it.
That's why he wanted the Hornets to play more like the Knicks or Suns. David West could shoot and score in the post. The team had the talent to run.
But every time he brought it up, Scott shut it down.
"Chris, your pick-and-roll is unstoppable," Scott would say. "As long as we slow it down and defend, we'll make the playoffs."
And every time, Paul had to bite his tongue. Defense this, defense that—but what about pace? What about modern basketball?
Okafor can't run? Then bench him. Why was that so hard?
Sometimes Paul just wanted to grab Scott, tire him down, and see what was in his head.
And don't even get him started on the front office. Who in their right mind trades Tyson Chandler for Okafor? And Scott actually liked that move. Did he even have a mind of his own?
The Hornets had just drafted Darren Collison, a kid with real potential. Paul had already been teaching him some tricks—stuff he didn't show everyone. In Paul's eyes, the team could've gone small, started both of them, sped up the pace, and run teams out of the gym.
Defense? Please. Paul could guard twos if needed. Strong, quick, and smart—most shooting guards couldn't even shake him.
But whenever he pitched an idea, Scott would shoot it down.
"I'm the head coach, Chris," he'd say, all stiff and proud.
Paul was getting tired of it. Scott still coached like it was college, like players should just nod and obey.
But this was the NBA. Stars mattered. And unless you were Popovich, the coach wasn't the main guy. And even Popovich wasn't some dictator. Pop knew how to manage people. He adapted. When he realized Parker had a big ego, he stopped yelling and started praising. Smart.
D'Antoni wasn't perfect either, but he treated his players like teammates. Like friends. You could talk to him.
Scott? Scott just got lucky. Coached Kidd. Coached Paul. That was it. His Xs and Os were weak, and his people skills weren't much better.
Even before tip-off, Paul could feel the difference. Watching warm-ups, he saw Lin Yi and D'Antoni laughing together, talking strategy over the clipboard. It looked... fun. Like basketball was supposed to be.
Paul felt a twinge of something.
What if...
What if he wasn't stuck in New Orleans?
What if he were with the Knicks?
That thought lingered in the back of his mind.
...
PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW AND SOME STONES.
Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribe to advanced chapters?
Visit the link:
[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30
Change @ to a