The game hadn't even started yet, but Barkley was already hyped up, jawing with his old buddy Kenny Smith like they were back at a barbershop.
Kenny laughed. "C'mon now, Chuck. Lin's got a serious upside, no doubt. But isn't it a little early to call him a franchise-changer?"
Of course, he had to push back. What kind of American sports show would it be if no one raised the bar?
It's just like any show—somebody's gotta argue, or else the fans are just nodding off while you hum along.
Barkley scoffed. "Look, man. He's still growing! I wouldn't be surprised if he hits 7'3" by the time he hits the NBA. That wingspan, that first step—bro, we ain't seen a big man like that in a while."
Kenny shot him a look. "There are plenty of guys over seven feet in the league. But Lin's gonna have to bulk up. You add 30 pounds, that speed's gone, man."
"Forget that. Big butts are great—trust me, I know," Barkley grinned. "But Lin's not just a big body. Watch his handles. That's a supercharged Kevin Durant right there."
Kenny nearly choked on his water. "Supercharged Durant?! Man, calm down. Do you think teams are gonna let a rookie seven-footer just iso and dribble like that?"
"Why not? Do you remember Darko Milicic? That dude was Euro-stepping from half court."
Barkley waved him off and continued. "And Lin's got range like Dirk."
Kenny wasn't letting that slide. "Shooting range is nice, but that just makes him a stretch big, not some messiah."
"You're too objective, bro. Gimme some spice. I'll bet you—Lin's gonna average 15 a game as a rookie."
Kenny raised a brow. "What, you gonna kiss a donkey again if you're wrong?"
"No problem!" Barkley laughed. "I'll pucker up if I have to. I'm betting big on my guy."
Truth is, Barkley wasn't just running his mouth this time. Sure, he's known for the hot takes and cursed predictions, but there was a method behind the madness.
He'd once clowned Yao Ming for being "soft," then turned around and said Yao was better than Ericka Dampier after bulking up.
(Dampier, if you forgot, was the Mavericks center who called himself the best big in the West... until Yao flattened him.)
And Barkley was right about Yao's weight gain affecting his career longevity. He also once said the Warriors couldn't win with just jump shots—though he conveniently left out the part where they also scored more in the paint than the Cavs.
Bottom line? Chuck liked Lin Yi's style.
Lin wasn't some slow, plodding, dunk-once-a-week big man. He moved. He hung in the air. He had giant hands that let him switch moves mid-flight like a guard.
To Barkley, Lin Yi looked like a shooting guard disguised as a center.
And he could go one-on-one? Oh yeah, Barkley was all in.
Whether that bet pay off? That's for next year.
........
The arena was packed for the Southern League Final, hosted at the Oklahoma Sooners' home court. The stands? Loaded with stars.
Kevin Durant was there. So was Westbrook. Even the Thunder's GM, Sam Presti, showed up in person.
Why? Simple. The Thunder had a real shot at the No.1 pick—and this game had three of the top five projected picks all on the floor: Blake Griffin, Lin Yi, and Stephen Curry.
Westbrook was hyped as Griffin started his pregame dunks.
"Yo! That's what I'm talkin' about!" he shouted.
But Durant wasn't looking at Blake. His eyes kept drifting to Lin Yi. Every few minutes, he'd glance over at Curry too, eyebrows raised at some of the deep-range shots he was warming up with.
Meanwhile, Presti was calmly chatting with a few execs nearby, looking relaxed... but make no mistake—he was locked in on Lin Yi. Rumor was, Thunder coach Scott Brooks had been telling KD and Westbrook to shoot more before every game lately.
"Pad the stats," he said. "Let's get those lottery odds up."
KD and Russ? They were all for it.
But the big surprise in the arena wasn't Presti or Durant.
It was Yao Ming.
The Rockets had a few days off, and instead of heading back to Houston, Yao made a detour to Oklahoma. Word had gotten to him: some Chinese kid was lighting it up in the NCAA and climbing draft boards like a rocket.
Yao was intrigued.
His own career had felt a little lonely. After Francis bounced and McGrady came in half-committed, Yao never really had a running mate who matched his drive. T-Mac had the talent—but not the fire.
So the idea of another Chinese player tearing it up in college?
Yao had to see it for himself.
They said Lin Yi could handle like a guard. Yao almost laughed when he heard it. Big men that tall weren't supposed to move like that. Height is a gift—but also a curse when it comes to footwork.
Still... seeing is believing.
........
Down on the court, Coach McKillop patted Lin on the back. "Go say hi to Yao," he nodded.
So Lin walked over.
He'd seen Yao on TV more times than he could count. But up close? It hit differently.
This was Yao Ming—a legend.
The quiet icon who led Chinese basketball's golden era. Humble. Hardworking. No drama.
Lin suddenly didn't know what to say. His throat tightened.
This was the guy who put Chinese hoops on the map. Without Yao, the NBA's influence in China wouldn't be what it is today.
Qi Jun, from the Chinese press box, managed to catch the moment perfectly—two giants, one handshake.
And for the first time, Lin Yi realized... he was looking at a Chinese legend called Yao Ming.
The camera flashes went crazy in capturing the moment.
Yup. Lin Yi had come a long way.
.......
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