NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: The Elite Eight Is Coming! Who I Want to Dunk On and Conquer

Chapter 21: The Elite Eight Is Coming! Who I Want to Dunk On and Conquer

April 1st. FedExForum. The stage for the Elite Eight showdown!

Even though tip-off was still thirty minutes away, the arena was already packed to the rafters. The energy was electric, and you could feel the buzz in the air.

And it wasn’t just die-hard fans in the seats tonight—Georgetown royalty was in the building. When the jumbotron panned across legends like Patrick Ewing, Alonzo Mourning, Dikembe Mutombo, and Allen Iverson, the crowd erupted in deafening cheers.

”I gotta get Iverson’s autograph after the game,” Durant muttered, peeking at the sidelines during warm-ups.

”I’m with you on that,” DJ Augustin chimed in.

Iverson was that guy for this generation. Every young hooper idolized him growing up. Even though AI was past his prime, that legacy still hit deep.

”Yo, focus on the game first,” Chen Yan called out, casually bouncing the ball off Durant’s backside. ”You’ll have all the time in the world to chase autographs once you hit the league.”

Facts.

Durant nodded, then glanced toward the Georgetown bench where Ewing and Mourning were seated. He couldn’t help but grumble, ”Why doesn’t our school have alumni like that?”

”KD, quit trippin’. Let’s run through these next games and make it to the league,” Chen said with a smirk. ”We’ll be those legends for Texas.”

”Hell yeah,” Durant replied, his fire reignited.

Chen’s words hit different. Why envy history when you can become it?

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Tonight’s game was being broadcast nationally on ESPN, with Mike Breen and Jeff Van Gundy on the call.

Van Gundy, fresh off being let go by the Rockets, had landed on his feet behind the mic—and he wasn’t pulling any punches.

”No one expected Texas to make it this far,” Breen started. ”Just like no one expected Chen Yan to drop 62 in the Sweet 16.”

”But some folks are still calling it a fluke. Jeff, what’s your take?”

Van Gundy chuckled, shaking his head. ”Whoever said that can try dropping 62 in March Madness themselves.”

Breen laughed. ”Gotta say, Jeff, I love how direct you are.”

”Look, Chen’s game speaks for itself,” Van Gundy continued. ”He’s 6’6” with a 7’2” wingspan. His physical profile’s insane—fluid like a point guard but built like a wing. That kind of combination? You don’t see it every day.”

”You sound like you’ve done your homework on this kid,” Breen noted.

”Man, I didn’t have to,” Jeff replied. ”Dude’s everywhere. My wife dragged me to the mall last weekend, and all I heard was people talking about him!”

More laughter followed.

Van Gundy might’ve been a stiff coach, but in the booth? The man was gold.

”Think he’s gonna mess with Oden’s draft stock?” Breen asked, leaning in.

”Nah, Oden’s a generational big. You know how this league works—teams will always lean big at the top. But with Chen’s versatility? He’s easily a lottery pick.”

”What if he keeps lighting it up?”

”Then we might be having a very different conversation come June.”

---

Back on the floor, the player introductions began.

Chen Yan was second to last out of the tunnel—and the crowd lost its mind.

That 62-point masterpiece had made him a sensation. Add in his highlight-reel dunks, flashy footwork, and that underdog energy, and you had a fan favorite born overnight.

Once the intros wrapped, the starters lined up on the hardwood.

Georgetown Hoyas Starting Five:

Jonathan Wallace, Patrick Ewing Jr., Jeff Green, Vernon Macklin, Roy Hibbert.

Classic big-boy lineup. Other than Wallace, every player was over 6’7”.

Texas Longhorns Starting Five:

DJ Augustin, Chen Yan, Kevin Durant, Damian James, Dexter Pittman.

A balanced lineup. Speed, length, and shooters across the board.

With the opening whistle, the ref tossed the rock skyward.

Hibbert won the jump easily over Pittman, and Georgetown controlled the first possession.

Jonathan Wallace brought it up, steady as ever.

On the defensive end, Chen Yan was matched up with Patrick Ewing Jr.—son of the legendary big man, but unlike his father, Ewing Jr. was a lengthy, athletic small forward.

After Jonathan Wallace and Roy Hibbert ran a textbook pick-and-roll but failed to find a clean look, Wallace swung the ball out to Patrick Ewing Jr., who was parked at the 45-degree angle near the free throw line.

The court lights glared down, the crowd roared with energy, and Ewing’s father—an NBA legend—sat courtside, eyes locked on his son. The moment was intense, and the pressure only fueled Ewing Jr.’s adrenaline.

Without hesitation, Ewing made his move.

One hard dribble and he took off—he was gunning for the rim, trying to throw down a statement dunk!

But just as he rose into the air, a shadow zipped in from the wing.

”Pah!”

Chen Yan came outta nowhere and spiked the ball straight into the second-tier stands!

”Damn! Chen just sent that back with authority!” the commentator shouted.

”Ewing didn’t even try to shake him off, just went straight up like he had a free pass,” Van Gundy said in the booth.

”Yeah, that was a rookie move,” Mike Breen added. ”You can’t test a guy like Chen Yan like that, not in March.”

Even though shot-blocking wasn’t Chen’s go-to, that one was a gift-wrapped highlight. And with that rejection, Chen finally got what folks meant when they called Ewing Jr. the worst of the NBA second-gen stars—dude’s decision-making was just... off.

Georgetown inbounded the ball on the sideline and went right back to their size advantage.

They fed Hibbert inside.

With a simple lift and high release, Hibbert dropped the ball in clean over Pittman.

The difference in inside strength was glaring—Chen had already accounted for this. If Texas wanted to win, their outside game had to cook.

Texas Longhorns reset. From the baseline, the ball was inbounded, and DJ Augustin handed it off to Chen Yan the moment he crossed halfcourt.

Texas used to run everything through Durant, but ever since Chen’s breakout in March Madness, the system shifted—now it was Durant or Chen.

Seeing Chen with the rock, Georgetown’s defense immediately tightened, collapsing inside to cut off driving lanes.

Chen expected it. He had just dropped 62 in the last game—Georgetown wasn’t about to let him waltz to the rim like the others had.

But limited space didn’t mean no space.

Chen stopped on a dime, shifted gears, and bolted toward the baseline corner. Jeff Green slid over to cut him off—but Chen didn’t force it.

He flicked his wrist and zipped a pass out to Durant on the wing.

The second Durant lifted his arms, Vernon McLean flew at him with a hard closeout.

Georgetown’s rotations were no joke.

But Durant wasn’t rushing. With a smooth pump fake, he sent McLean flying, then took off toward the paint.

Hibbert stepped up.

Durant didn’t hesitate—he rose up strong, trying to poster him right then and there.

”Bang!”

The ball clanged off the rim—it came up just short.

But the whistle blew right as the ball bounced out.

Foul on Hibbert. Two shots for Durant.

”Damn, that would’ve been a Top 5 play easy,” Chen grinned, walking up to KD.

Durant cracked a smile. ”We’ll get another chance.”

Chen patted his chest. ”Next one’s mine. I’ma dunk on him too.”

They shared a smirk.

On the court, there’s always one universal truth—everyone wants to poster the big man. It’s a badge of honor.

Back at the 2000 Olympics, the Dream Team 4 even made a million-dollar bet on who could dunk on Yao Ming. First one to do it would cash out.

Everyone knows how that ended.

Nobody did.