As soon as the 2011–12 NBA season tipped off, Lin Yi once again became the center of attention—just like old times.
Because this time, the league was buzzing about something new.
…
Lin Yi already knew about the original Derrick Rose Rule. It was designed to reward young stars who outperformed their rookie contracts, giving them a chance to sign bigger extensions earlier than usual.
See, there's a difference between a maximum salary and the highest possible salary in the NBA.
Before the Rose Rule, for instance, if Derrick Rose extended with the Bulls under a $58 million salary cap, his starting salary would've been around $14.5 million. But with the new rule, that jumped to $17.4 million.
Factor in Chicago's Early Bird Rights, which allow a 7.5% annual increase, and you're talking about an extra $17 million over the life of the deal.
Later, guys like Blake Griffin and Kevin Durant would benefit from it too. Meanwhile, Anthony Davis—The Brow—would lose sleep worrying about whether he'd meet the requirements.
Not everyone's as financially comfortable as Lin Yi. For most players, their main income still comes from their salary.
…
The NBA's pay scale is tied to seniority. Under the new CBA (Collective Bargaining Agreement), players with up to six years in the league can earn up to 25% of the salary cap. Those with seven to nine years can earn 30%, and ten-year veterans can command up to 35%.
The Rose Rule broke that mold—it allowed players finishing their rookie contracts to qualify for the 30% tier usually reserved for veterans, as long as they hit certain milestones.
…
"Wait… does this mean my name's actually going into the rulebook this time?"
Lin Yi couldn't help but laugh at how much he'd changed the course of history again.
Because after this lockout, a new rule was born—the Lin Yi & Rose Rule.
It had two levels.
The first tier rewarded players who'd either:
• Won an MVP in their first four seasons,
• Been voted twice as an All-Star starter, or
• Made two All-NBA Teams.
Meet one of those, and your next contract could start at 30% of the team's cap.
The second tier was basically made for Lin Yi.
• To qualify, a player needed to:
• Win an MVP in their first four years,
• Be named to the All-NBA First Team twice, and
• Start twice in the All-Star Game.
Hit all that, and you could jump straight to 35%—the true supermax level.
In reality, that was absurd. Because, at that moment, only Lin Yi fit the criteria.
So, people started calling it what it really was: The Lin Yi Privilege.
…
Commissioner David Stern's intentions were good—he wanted to reward Lin Yi, who had boosted the NBA's global profile during a tough economic stretch. Overseas markets were booming again, and even cities like New York, Dallas, and Los Angeles saw massive economic benefits from his presence.
Plus, Lin Yi had kept quiet during the lockout. He hadn't stirred drama or attacked the league, and Stern respected that.
So when he looked at the Knicks—a team with a single clear superstar and a deep-pocketed owner in James Dolan—he thought, why not give them something special?
After all, Dolan didn't mind paying the luxury tax. Why save him money?
And just like that, the Lin Yi Privilege came to life—a rule so generous it let Lin Yi potentially sign a deal worth over $100 million for his second contract.
…
Of course, Lin Yi knew the rule's ripple effects would stretch far beyond himself. Any clause that both the league and the players' union could agree on wasn't created to help just one man.
In fact, many rival teams quietly celebrated. If Lin Yi's next deal ate up that much cap space, the Knicks' flexibility in building around him would shrink. To them, it was a perfect balance.
Everyone was happy.
Lin Yi wasn't complaining either. Stern's praise kept coming, and he had no reason to turn down the compliment.
Dolan was rich, the Knicks were used to paying the tax, and Lin Yi wasn't about to take a discount anyway.
The whole point of the Lin Yi Privilege was to let him earn what he deserved. If he took less, it would make a mockery of the rule itself.
And besides, Lin Yi knew the future.
The salary cap might dip over the next couple of seasons, but by 2014, when the NBA signed that massive $24 billion TV deal, the cap would explode.
So in the grand scheme of things?
The Knicks would be fine.
And Lin Yi's wallet would be even finer.
Because one thing Lin Yi would never believe was that a man could have too much money.
...
As soon as the Lin Yi &Rose Rule was announced, the rest of the 2009 draft class went wild.
For guys like Blake Griffin, it wasn't just about pride — it meant serious money. If he made the All-Star team that season, his next contract would skyrocket.
"Lin, man. Remember us, the brothers!"
That was DeRozan, tagging Lin Yi on social media.
"Lin, I want a Koenigsegg."
Harden chimed in —real boss of OKC, as everyone half-joked, half-believed.
"A hundred-million-dollar deal loading… Congrats, you deserve it."
Curry, as accurate as ever, joined the fun.
Lin Yi didn't expect that right after the lockout, he'd once again dominate the headlines — this time not because of a stat line, but because of a rule named after him and Rose.
Most fans agreed he'd earned it. After all, how many players had ever won Finals MVP in just their second season? Among active players, only Tim Duncan had done it.
And as for those muttering about how privileged he was — well, the old legends could say whatever they wanted. They were retired anyway; let them enjoy their spotlight.
In the eyes of today's players, Lin Yi was one of them — someone who'd earned everything.
…
Naturally, everyone in the league started wondering how to cash in on Lin Yi's global fame.
Knicks owner James Dolan wasted no time congratulating him. Money was never an issue for Dolan — if anything, he was thrilled. In his mind, if the league could bend the rules once, maybe they could bend them again. Why not make Lin Yi a lifetime Knick?
And he had reason to be confident. The Knicks had just topped the list of the most valuable franchises across all four major North American sports.
Not just basketball — all of them.
To keep up with the flood of new Chinese investors and sponsors pouring into the Knicks' orbit, Dolan had even hired a new personal secretary — a top graduate from MIT, fluent in both finance talk and Mandarin.
That's how Lin Yi met Kingsley Yu, a Chinese-American.
When Lin saw him, he was… momentarily speechless.
"Hello, Lin! You can just call me Kingsley," Kingsley said cheerfully.
He was slim, bright-eyed, and — well, if Lin hadn't known better, he'd have thought Dolan had hired a golden retriever instead of a secretary. Too much energy.
Lin questioned. "Are you alright?"
Kingsley grinned. "Of course, just pumped up. I am ready to give my best!"
Lin could only rub his forehead.
Great…
Still, with the Knicks finally regrouping, things were looking good.
On the 28th, the long-rumored trade between the Knicks and the Hornets was nearly done.
According to Woj, Chris Paul was on his way to New York.
And just like that — the Big Apple was about to get even louder.
...
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