It seems such a long time ago, as if it occurred in a different era to a different player.
There were those six magical weeks of 2012 when Jeremy Lin and the basketball world was swept up in Linsanity.
The phenomenon virtually owned New York with Lin’s sudden star turn when thrust into the lineup by then-Knicks coach Mike D’Antoni. He almost swallowed the NBA with nightly heroics and highlights that rolled around the globe like a driving, jump-shooting tsunami.
Since then, Lin has played in three other cities — Houston, L.A. and Charlotte — before opting to return as a free agent to New York, though across town with the Nets. But while Linsanity has evolved, it still lurks just beneath the surface for the 27-year-old U.S.-born point guard with the Taiwanese roots, according to Liz Robbins of the New York Times:
“When it first started, I’m not going to lie, it was cool, and then it became a burden,” he said at the Nets’ practice facility in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. “I didn’t really know what I had gotten myself into. One, two, three, four years later, every year I embrace it more. Every year I’m more appreciative, every year I love it more.”
He is 27 now, and it is no longer enough to be just a leader for the Nets on the court. “Chinese people, Asian-Americans, Asians, they always have a special place in my heart,” he said. “Coming back here, I want to be able to try to inspire the next generation, reach out in the community.”
A Harvard graduate and a son of Taiwanese immigrants, Mr. Lin became an empowering figure not only for Asians, but also for underdogs, long-suffering Knicks fans and New Yorkers mired in the doldrums in February 2012. The team’s leader, Carmelo Anthony, was injured when Mr. Lin was igniting a turnaround.
Enter Mr. Lin, a journeyman who had been cut by two teams. Linsanity, in all its glorious euphoria, erupted.
And then, several weeks later, Mr. Lin’s run was over, cut short by a season-ending knee injury, combined with the resignation of his coach, Mike D’Antoni. After the season, the Knicks allowed Mr. Lin to depart to the Houston Rockets via free agency.
“As soon as he took off that New York uniform, that magic was gone,” said Andrew Kuo, 38, a New York-born artist and ardent Lin fan.
The Lin-related artifacts of that time, like the sandwiches once named for him, grew stale. The puns faded from the lexicon.
“The Lin memes are done, it’s O.K., it’s extinct now,” Mr. Kuo said.
There is, however, the matter of that “Linsanity No. 17” tattoo on his left forearm. Mr. Kuo laughed and said that it might have been dumb. “But it’s nice to look down and remember it all,” he added.
Mr. Lin recalled how he wished he had stopped to enjoy that heady time more while it was swirling around him. As for Linsanity, he may have won the trademark, but he has mixed feelings about it; he does not intend to revive it.
“Not in a way that I’m offended, but it kind of dehumanizes me to refer to me as a phenomenon,” he said. “I’m going to be here, keep playing my game, and whatever you guys want to call it, it’s up to you guys.”