Stan Van Gundy was already pacing in front of the bench, arms folded, lips pressed tight. He'd been worried about this matchup since the schedule came out. Last season, the Knicks had been dangerous—good enough to be a problem in the East.

This season, though, they weren't just dangerous; they were organized. Their defense was tighter, their rotations sharper, and with Chauncey Billups running the point, their offense flowed like a well-rehearsed routine.

One game didn't define a season, of course. But for a coach like Van Gundy, the small details mattered. And what he was seeing early wasn't encouraging. The Knicks had a plan for Dwight Howard.. Lin Yi, in particular, seemed to know exactly how to avoid Howard's comfort zone in the paint, attacking from angles that took away the shot-blocking lanes where Dwight reigned supreme.

Howard was still in his prime, the most athletic big man in the league, but even his explosive help defense had its blind spots. His lower body was wiry, built for speed, and when he overcommitted on a rotation, he could be baited into leaving gaps.

After the timeout, Van Gundy adjusted. Enough of the stubborn post entries—time to put the ball in Vince Carter's hands.

Carter, long past his days of dunk contests and highlight reels, had reinvented himself as a patient, versatile scorer. Coming off a screen, he squared up and buried a three from the wing.

9–5.

Defense was going to be their lifeline back into this game. Rashard Lewis tried denying Lin Yi the ball, sticking to him like glue, but Lin pivoted smoothly into a high screen for Billups. Chauncey didn't even need to hesitate—one quick release from deep, and the ball snapped through the net.

12–5.

Howard threw up his hands in frustration, glaring at his teammates. It wouldn't be the last time. Later in his career, when he'd leave Orlando, he'd infamously quip, "My team in Orlando was a team full of people that nobody wanted."

But the truth was more complicated. Unless Howard committed to adapting—adding layers to his game rather than relying solely on raw athleticism—his influence on winning would fade as his physical edge dulled. Van Gundy's one-in, four-out scheme had made Dwight the centerpiece, and while it maximized his strengths, it also inflated his ego.

He would go on to play with stars—Kobe in L.A., Harden in Houston—but the narrative always circled back to the same complaints. In Houston, some fans blamed Harden for freezing him out. Yet, the moment Howard left, Harden led the league in assists, and Clint Capela flourished as his roll man. The math spoke for itself.

Before his back injury, Dwight's dominance was built on freakish defensive instincts and brute strength. After the injury, he still leaned on the same rushed hook shots and half-developed post moves. But in the NBA, coaches weren't going to hand over the offense to a center who couldn't produce efficiently.

Some chalked it up to age. But look at the greats—Jordan winning titles at 38, LeBron still a nightmare matchup at 33. And among big men? Kareem, Malone, Olajuwon, Ewing, Robinson—legends who all aged into their skill sets, not away from them.

Optimism wasn't the problem. Some of the greatest players were relentlessly positive—Shaq, with his off-court antics and championship rings; Nowitzki, battling through years of heartbreak to finally lift the trophy; even Kobe, who would keep shooting with the belief that the next one was going in, no matter how many he'd missed.

The issue was knowing yourself. Howard's smile and easygoing demeanor masked something more fragile. When Shaq stepped aside, Dwight thought the throne was his by default. Leaving Orlando would be the beginning of the slide. Now, his dominance was starting to feel like the last glow before the sunset.

When the first quarter ended, Charles Barkley didn't mince words on the TNT desk:

"I'm telling you right now, the Knicks and Magic aren't even on the same level tonight."

Kenny Smith nodded. "I have to agree. This Knicks team is deep. They've got scoring everywhere, and Billups is unlocking everyone around him."

On the Magic bench, Howard sat stone-faced, still chewing on the quarter he'd just played. He knew Lin Yi's presence was hurting his shine. The numbers wouldn't be kind tonight. Last year, the Magic had been Finals contenders. This year, if things didn't change, an early playoff exit seemed far more likely.

...

By the time the final buzzer rang, the game's outcome was already well past the point of suspense. The Magic's outside shooting was a mess, their perimeter offense nonexistent. And even if Howard had managed to dominate the paint, it wouldn't have mattered. Tonight, he was like a river that once promised a flood, but could only send a few ripples downstream.

Final score: 118 to 86.

The Knicks didn't just win—they steamrolled Orlando in their first game since the big trade, sending a very clear message to the league.

Lin Yi clocked in just 29 minutes, going 10-for-17 from the field, 2-for-5 from deep, and a perfect 6-for-6 at the line. His stat line: 28 points, 10 rebounds, 5 assists, and 2 blocks—efficient and commanding.

Billups? Steady as ever. In 27 minutes, he shot 4-for-7, nailed all three of his threes, and went 3-for-3 at the stripe. Fourteen points, 5 assists, 3 boards—exactly what the Knicks needed from their new floor general.

And then there was Gallinari, SBC, blowing up the scoreboard like it was target practice. He went 11-for-14 overall, hit 5-of-6 from downtown, and knocked down all four free throws. Thirty-one points, 6 rebounds, and 2 assists—the kind of game that makes you double-check the box score to make sure it's real.

Howard? Well, to be fair, his rebounding and defense were still solid. He put up 12 points, 14 rebounds, and 3 blocks on 5-of-11 shooting. But those 2-of-8 free throws… that's the kind of number that gives coaches heartburn.

After the game, Stan Van Gundy didn't mince words:

"The Knicks have no obvious glaring weaknesses after this trade. Right now, I'd say the two strongest teams in the East are the Knicks and the Heat."

Translation: Management, we need to make a move. Soon.

Howard, on the other hand, handled his post-game media session like a kid who'd just lost at recess—smiling, joking with reporters, pretending the loss wasn't a sign of something bigger.

Billups, though, was quick to heap praise on his young star:

"Honestly, before I came to New York, I didn't know what to expect. But Lin's a great leader. He's been a pleasure to play alongside. He knows how to get the best out of his teammates. And don't forget—he's only 21 years old."

Of course, journalists being journalists, they couldn't resist stirring the pot. The next morning, the headlines read: "Billups Says Lin Yi Outshines Anthony"—because apparently we can't have nice, straightforward compliments without controversy.

The wild part? A lot of people believed Billups said that.

Shaquille O'Neal summed it up with a shake of his head:

"Man… the league has really changed."

...

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