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As fans were starting to wonder what kind of flair Lin Yi would bring to the Slam Dunk Contest, the Knicks pulled off a trade on December 16. They sent Nate Robinson to the Celtics in exchange for Eddie House.
For the Knicks, it wasn't exactly a tough call. Nate was a bit of a wildcard in the locker room, and Coach D'Antoni never seemed too eager to play him anyway. Rather than letting him rot on the bench, the front office figured it made more sense to flip him for someone who could contribute. Enter Eddie House.
The Celtics were more than happy to make the swap. Sure, House was a solid shooter, but their bench needed someone who could actually create shots, not just stand around the arc. So, in the end, both sides got what they needed.
As for Nate? The man practically sprinted to Boston. He felt like he'd been treated like a nobody in New York. In his mind, the Celtics were a title-contending squad, while the Knicks? Pfft. Pinning their hope on a rookie.
The moment he got the call, Nate was like: "Man, I'm outta this dump. Watch me win a ring with Boston!"
He even told the media, trying to kiss ass, "I've been a Celtics fan since I was a kid. I love Boston. I really think I can help this team win a championship."
Nate probably thought that speech would earn him some love from the Celtics fanbase. It didn't. Most fans didn't care. Some were even annoyed.
See, House wasn't just some random bench guy who hit threes. Celtics fans liked him. The team had designed a bunch of plays just for his shot. Whenever he checked in, the crowd would start buzzing, waiting for one of those signature corner threes.
So when they saw Nate's interview, a lot of Celtics fans were like, "Okay, buddy. Chill."
Lin Yi saw the clip and couldn't help but shake his head. "Help the Celtics win a ring?" he thought. "This dude's dreaming."
...
The very next day, December 17, the Knicks kept rolling on their road trip. Next stop: Chicago, to face the Bulls in the United Center.
Back in the 2009-10 season, the Bulls weren't coached by Thibodeau yet—they still had Vinny Del Negro calling the shots.
But they did have Derrick Rose.
Rose already had the nickname D-Rose or the Windy City Assassin. As the No. 1 overall pick in 2008, his athleticism was off the charts. At his peak, his high-flying layups and insane finishes at the rim made defenders question reality.
Opponents watching him would be like: Wait—is he about to get blocked?Nope... he finished that?!Damn... this guy's unreal.
Rose's first step was a killer, especially when he changed direction. He wasn't like Westbrook with that straight-line bulldozer energy—Rose was smoother but just as deadly.
Of course, all those sudden stops and hard cuts took a toll. His style was murder on the knees. No system, no plot armor, no healing factor. Just raw talent burning bright like a firework—and fizzling out just as fast.
But back then? This was pre-injury Rose. Prime Rose.
The American media hyped the game up as a battle of rising stars—Rose vs. Lin Yi. Different positions, sure, but both were leading struggling franchises back into the spotlight. Analysts were already comparing their stats, debating who was more valuable.
Knicks fans pointed to the team's better record and said Lin was clearly the guy. Bulls fans clapped back, saying Rose's game was more exciting to watch. New York fans just spammed Lin's highlights on YouTube to counter that point.
Neither side was backing down.
And when Lin Yi took the court in Chicago, the crowd let him have it with a chorus of boos.
After all, this was Rose's house—and to Bulls fans, he was the future. The guy who'd bring glory back to the Windy City, so Lin Yi being compared to him was slander.
Rose had been logging heavy minutes this season—about 37 a game. He was averaging 20 points, 5.9 assists, and 3.8 rebounds while shooting nearly 49% from the field.
Watching him throw down dunks during warm-ups, Lin Yi couldn't help but feel a little bad.
Man... it's a shame, he thought. This guy's a freak athlete, but that jumper? Always been a bit off.
Rose's shooting form looked like he was tossing grenades—awkward shoulder-leaning floaters that somehow made it to the rim. If one of those went in, it felt like a minor miracle.
Of course, years later, after his big injury, Rose did tweak his shot. But even with the new form, his range was still shaky—almost as fragile as his knees.
Without that explosive first step post-injury, Rose didn't have a Plan B.
Funny thing is, standing on the opposite end of the timeline was another future injury comeback story: Paul George. He wasn't in the league yet, but Lin Yi had watched enough of his high school and college footage to know the kid could fly—acrobatic dunks, highlight reels, top-five plays kind of stuff.
But after that gruesome leg injury down the line, George would reinvent himself completely. He'd ditch the flashy iso plays and start leaning into catch-and-shoot threes, off-ball movement, and hard-nosed defense.
The transformation paid off. PG clawed his way back into All-Star form without having to overexert. Later days, you'd barely see him attacking the paint like before—he mostly pulled up from midrange or beyond the arc.
That switch in playstyle? It didn't just save his knees. It saved his career.
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Lin Yi noticed something interesting during warm-ups—Rose kept glancing at him. Not in a let's go at it kind of way, more like curiosity. Like Rose was trying to figure him out.
To Rose, Lin Yi was... well, weird. Tall guys weren't supposed to dribble like that. And yet, there he was, doing behind-the-back crossovers like a guard, casually draining threes.
Rose had watched his highlights online. Couldn't believe the stuff Lin Yi could do at his size.
The thing is, Rose wasn't the most social guy. Quiet by nature. He didn't talk much in the locker room or on the bench. Watching Lin joke around with teammates before tip-off, laughing and smiling like it was recess, Rose felt a little pang of envy since he couldn't connect with his teammates on such a level.
It's not that he didn't want to connect with people. He just never learned how.
Rose had been hoopin' since he was a kid. From the moment he picked up a ball, it was all basketball, all the time. Agents were already knocking when he was barely out of high school.
At Simeon Career Academy, his coach, Bob Hambric, looked out for him. At the University of Memphis, Coach John Calipari at Memphis shielded him like a golden egg. Everything in his career came quickly—too quickly, maybe.
So when adversity finally came—injuries, pressure, media storms—Rose wasn't ready. He'd never had to build the tools to handle it. That's the thing people forget: talent gets you to the league. But character? That's what turns you into a star.
And Rose, for all his brilliance, had a game—and a mindset—that made him a ticking time bomb.
...
The teams huddled around the center circle as the game was about to begin. The cameras zoomed in on the two young stars everyone came to see tonight.
2008's No. 1 pick vs. 2009's No. 1 pick.
The Windy City Assassin vs The Big Apple's Showtime.
Who's got the edge?
The referee tossed the ball into the air...
Tip-off.
Game on.
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