Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Fall of the "Lin Fei Terminator"

Lin Fei’s smile was not one of disdain; rather, he felt he could respond to the journalists’ questions with remarkable calm. It was a mindset, a kind of serenity. Tomorrow, they really would face the Grizzlies. In truth, Lin Fei had no idea whom he’d be matched up against, for even he didn’t know how Coach Nelson intended to use him. Perhaps he’d be tasked as a point guard, since the coach wanted Lin Fei to participate more in organizing the offense—his speed made him unstoppable on the break, and he could find the right moment and position with ease, making the setup easier. Often, though, the coach placed Lin Fei as an attacking guard, since scoring was the most direct way to win, and Lin Fei was the most straightforward means to do so.

The answer would be revealed before tip-off. Lin Fei came off the bench again, but this never dampened the fans’ enthusiasm for him, just as being a substitute never slowed his explosive scoring.

The Grizzlies’ starting lineup: Mike Conley, Rudy Gay, Marc Gasol, Zach Randolph, and Sam Young. The Warriors’ starters: Curry, Keynes, Aix, Jobs, and Claudson.

As the game began, the Grizzlies struck first, with Gasol and Randolph attacking the paint. Both possessed toughness and finesse, and Jobs and Claudson struggled to keep up, Randolph scoring with force. 2–0.

The Warriors, having lost to Houston last game, were determined not to suffer another defeat. They came out with energy; Curry, controlling the ball, sped madly down the court. Yet the Grizzlies, youthful and vigorous, managed to locate their defensive assignments amid the Warriors’ flood-like pace. Still, finding them wasn’t the same as stopping them. Curry accelerated past Conley, unable to shake him off, but passed to Aix, who shot without hesitation and scored.

So fast! The crowd gasped. Against the lively Grizzlies, the Warriors still unleashed such speed—astonishment was inevitable.

The Grizzlies’ offense was diverse. Conley held the ball on the perimeter, Gay moved and received, then drove. Gay was half the leader of the team, his abilities unquestionable. Facing Aix’s defense, Gay broke into the paint with ease; his body supple, he dodged and laid the ball in amid the Warriors’ block attempts, eliciting cheers throughout the arena. Last year, in the playoffs, the team had achieved a Cinderella run without Rudy Gay; now, his return had elevated their strength, fully capable of contending for the Western crown.

After Gay scored, Aix picked up the ball and threw a long pass to Curry near midcourt. Curry pushed the pace, Conley spun and chased, and Keynes followed. At the basket, it was a two-on-one; Curry passed across to Keynes, who would not waste the chance—he soared, nearly leaping over Conley, and dunked with the force of mountains.

Many were dumbfounded. The Warriors were faster than ever; their offense could only be described as water—swift, omnipresent, unstoppable. They seemed even faster than before, scoring on both opening possessions, each a rapid attack. Curry had two assists already; the Warriors’ starters were clearly meshing better and better.

The Grizzlies attacked again; this time, Rudy Gay shot from outside, guarded by Keynes, but missed. Jobs grabbed the rebound. As he did, the Grizzlies players rushed back in panic, having truly witnessed the Warriors’ speed. After scoring, the Warriors inbounded and finished their attack in a flash; now, with a defensive rebound, their pace would only increase. Indeed, Jobs took two quick dribbles and passed to Aix, who drove, Gay coming up to defend, but Aix passed to Keynes, who crossed the three-point line in two strides while the Grizzlies defenders lagged far behind. The commentator quipped that Keynes could turn back and wave to the Grizzlies, saying, “I’m about to shoot!” Then calmly take the shot. The Warriors’ transition speed after a rebound was simply incredible.

The Grizzlies hurried to call timeout; this couldn’t go on. Their offense was decent, but against the Warriors’ seemingly chaotic, tactic-less style, they were suffering greatly.

The Warriors’ coach adjusted his strategy. Since the Warriors’ speed was so overwhelming, even the Grizzlies’ fastest lineup couldn’t keep up. He decided to go to the other extreme, slow down, aim for stability, and suppress the pace, like two singers performing the same song—one fast, one slow—seeing who would impose their rhythm. With his tough interior players, he would not fear the Warriors.

But Nelson was no fool; he anticipated the Grizzlies would try to control the tempo, so in the first quarter, he substituted Lin Fei early. Lin Fei was a master of chaos on the court, replacing Jobs—a surprise to all. Aix moved to power forward, Keynes to small forward; a double-point guard lineup. Now the Warriors were one big and four small, and Nelson’s intention was clear: the Grizzlies played by the book, tough battles, so he wanted his players to muddy the waters, the more chaotic the better. The messier it got, the more it suited the Warriors’ tempo, and their tactics thrived in disorder.

Sure enough, Lin Fei, Curry, Keynes, and Aix on the court felt like a stampede of wild horses. Even if the Grizzlies’ players were wolves, they could do nothing against the furious galloping herd.

Lin Fei might choose to advance quickly, Keynes would follow fast and screen for him, with Curry and Aix cutting and distracting on the other side. Lin Fei always found easy shots and scored effortlessly; or Lin Fei would draw defenders en masse, then pass to Curry or Aix, who were in perfect sync, and amid Lin Fei’s gravity, the two would weave and deliver the ball into the basket.

Grizzlies coach Hollins was stunned. He had planned to use his players’ ability to control the tempo and slow the game, but the Warriors unleashed such a lineup that his tactical system was shattered by their small-ball assault.

Faced with such chaos, Hollins steeled himself and gambled. He substituted two players famed for their defense: Tony Allen and Battier, both capable of guarding the opponent’s key players. The Grizzlies’ approach was, since their prized tempo control had been wrecked, they’d try to strengthen defense with elite individual defenders. If they could stop a single player, it would greatly suppress the Warriors’ scoring.

Now, Battier was matched up against Lin Fei, Tony Allen guarded Keynes. It was exactly what fans had hoped for.

Lin Fei held the ball, eyeing Battier—the best defender, who had troubled many of the league’s top perimeter scorers. Now Lin Fei faced him directly. How should he attack? Battier had a height advantage of more than twenty centimeters, plus exceptional defensive awareness and attitude. Frankly, against such a dedicated defender, Lin Fei was somewhat uncertain.

He lowered his body, quickened his dribble, and Battier dropped his stance, determined not to let Lin Fei break past him. Lin Fei wondered: should I shoot or drive? If I shoot, Battier’s defense would surely interfere; but if I drive, could I really create a good chance against this specialist? Lin Fei feinted left—everyone knew it was a fake, Battier didn’t bite. Lin Fei stepped back, Battier followed. Then Lin Fei accelerated left again—a move hard to read, but Battier’s long arms made even that tricky; Lin Fei stepped back again, still a fake, then spun. A teammate came to screen, Battier stayed close, defense airtight. Lin Fei spun again, another leftward drive, hard to tell truth from feint. Battier followed, but after this sequence, Battier was a bit dizzy—just a split second—and Lin Fei broke past him, then scored with an easy jumper.

“So unreasonable!” Facing such a team, such a player, Battier could only sigh.

Another possession: Lin Fei simply accelerated with the ball, faced Battier’s block, spun at high speed, left Battier behind, crossed halfcourt, and launched a drifting three-pointer. Battier was left wondering—was he really getting old, or was the league witnessing the rise of such a player?

The Warriors’ relentless barrage nearly broke the Grizzlies in the first half; in the second half, the Warriors even sent out all their substitutes, occasionally rotating Lin Fei, Curry, and other “starters.” But even with a bench lineup, their attack exhausted the Grizzlies, who surrendered early. Both teams were full of energy, but today the Warriors had the last laugh—a resounding victory.

The anticipated “Lin Fei terminator” never appeared; Battier could not display his defensive prowess against Lin Fei. Lin Fei played twenty-eight minutes, easily scoring twenty-five points, hitting six of eight three-pointers.

After this clash with the Grizzlies, experts across the league began to question the “Lin Fei phenomenon” and the “Warriors imagination.”

The Lin Fei phenomenon was the frenzy of a single player sparking a transformation in the whole team, while the Warriors imagination was that a small adjustment could trigger earth-shaking changes, unleashing astonishing energy—as if a race car had its final bolt installed.