As the pride of his hometown, Durant came into this matchup with a weight on his shoulders. Oklahoma saw him as the hope of the Thunder team, and this time, he wasn't about to accept another bitter defeat.
The last time he faced Tony Allen, Durant had been rattled. Outplayed, outworked, suffocated, and left for dead. Since then, he and his coach had doubled down on shooting drills, grinding through late nights and early mornings. Durant didn't want history to repeat itself.
The Thunder didn't want to be known longer the young and promising tag-alongs of the West. They had arrived as a genuine force, a contender. Their rise had been meteoric, and their ceiling still looked frighteningly high.
The Knicks answered with Chandler, Lin Yi, Danny Green, Tony Allen, and Billups. Steady, balanced, battle-tested.
OKC's Achilles heel, however, was obvious. If Durant and Westbrook hit a dry spell, their offense stalls. They could defend with the best of them, but in the Finals down the line, Miami would exploit that very flaw—overwhelming them with wave after wave of scoring threats. Defense only mattered if you could keep pace on the other end.
The game tipped off with Perkins and Lin Yi at center court. Perkins, shrewd as always, barely contested, preferring to drop back and set the tone defensively.
From the opening possession, the Thunder's pressure was suffocating. Westbrook hounded Billups, forcing the veteran to turn his back to protect the dribble. Chauncey calmly found Lin Yi on the wing.
Ibaka spread his arms wide, eyes locked in, sliding into position. He looked serious, coiled, ready.
But appearances deceive.
Lin Yi leaned into him and immediately felt the difference. Soft. Ibaka wasn't rooted; his base lacked the strength of a true interior stopper. Lin Yi drove lower, deeper, backing him down toward the rim.
Help came. Sefolosha darted in for the double.
Lin Yi was ready. He spun out of the trap, gathering himself, and rose with one hand to hammer it down.
Bang!
The rim rattled violently as the dunk crashed home. Brutal, emphatic.
Brute force, Lin Yi reminded himself, sometimes flair wasn't needed.
Perkins was already barking, motioning frantically to Ibaka.
"Lower your stance! Hold your ground!" His expression was a mix of urgency and disbelief.
Thunder ball. The crowd roared, eager for that first basket to finally let them sit.
Durant, however, found himself blanketed by Tony Allen. No space, no rhythm, no easy touches.
So Westbrook took matters into his own hands. He waved for the screen, used Ibaka's pick to shake Billups, and exploded to the rim with his trademark ferocity.
The lane opened, the crowd rose—
And then the ball rimmed out.
Groans filled the arena as the fans stayed on their feet, waiting still, restless for that first bucket.
This was a textbook case of Westbrook pushing the tempo a little too hard. The Thunder guard went straight into the teeth of the defense.
Lin Yi was already waiting in the low post. Ibaka squared up, lowered his stance, and looked ready for the battle. Lin Yi didn't bite. Instead of forcing his way through, he spun halfway, pulled the ball back between his legs with deceptive ease, and rose into a fading jumper.
The release was smooth. The net snapped.
4–0 Knicks.
Since polishing his fundamentals, Lin Yi's shot-making under pressure had climbed another level. Ibaka's effort was admirable, but man-to-man? Almost impossible to contain him.
Of course, the Thunder's young stars weren't about to let the Garden's noise travel to Oklahoma. This time, Westbrook called for Durant. The two ran a clean pick-and-roll at the top. Tony Allen fought over the screen, but Durant barely needed an inch. He rose, high and unbothered, and let it fly.
Swish!
Three straight through.
4–3.
Chesapeake Energy Arena erupted, the fans roaring for their franchise cornerstone. Durant gave a little nod. He'd needed that.
After all, the last time he walked into Madison Square Garden, he'd been booed to the point of questioning reality. Tonight, back home, he promised himself—silently—that one day he'd bring these fans the trophy they craved.
But the Knicks weren't going to live and die on Lin Yi alone. After his opening pair, it was Danny Green who seized the moment. Billups swung him the ball, Durant's wingspan flashed in his face, and Green barely flinched. Quick rise, clean stroke.
Splash.
7–3 Knicks.
"That's an answer if I've ever seen one!" Barkley barked. "Durant gives you a three, Green fires one right back!"
Kenny Smith chuckled: "Danny Green might be the most underrated piece in New York. He's knocking down threes at over 45 percent this season—that's actually a few points higher than Gallinari."
Barkley jumped in with his trademark bluntness: "And if I'm Mike D'Antoni, I'm thinking, 'Why rush Gallinari back? Let the guy heal. Danny's holding it down.'"
Somewhere in Manhattan, Gallinari, watching from his apartment, almost dropped the remote. He knew Barkley loved exaggerating, but still—what kind of disrespect was this? He'd spent years shedding the role player title, grinding his way into being a legitimate starter. And now, one injury later, people were already discussing his replacement like he was yesterday's news.
He shut off his phone quickly, resisting the urge to text back his Italian friends who'd just invited him out. One ill-timed nightclub photo, and he might as well kiss that starting spot goodbye.
Back on the floor, Westbrook answered in kind. He bulldozed his way through the Knicks' Tyson-Yi combination, somehow wriggling through two bodies and finishing the layup. Lin Yi found himself shaking his head in quiet awe.
How had this guy, who couldn't even dunk back in high school, turned into such an athletic monster?
Talent mattered, yes. But Westbrook was living proof that sheer work ethic could sculpt a player into a force of nature. He wasn't just explosive—he was relentless. A man who had clawed his way up from nothing.
An inspiration, if there ever was one.
Just as Lin Yi was caught marveling at his opponent's drive, the Thunder unveiled their first real adjustment of the night.
...
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