NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 64: Chapter 64 - No Pass Button? The Suns Need a Player Like That!

Chapter 64 - No Pass Button? The Suns Need a Player Like That!

Nash and Raja Bell headed to the bench alongside Chen Yan for a breather.

At 33 years old, Nash wasn’t going to be grinding major minutes all season, no matter how much D’Antoni loved riding his starters. Last year, Nash averaged 35.4 minutes per game. This season, Coach D’Antoni aimed to cut that down to around 33.

Instead of sitting down like the rest of the bench, Nash laid down on the courtside billboard—a regular thing for him. With his congenital spondylolisthesis, lying down was the only way he could truly relax during games. It had become a sort of trademark for him—a VIP treatment nobody else on the team had. While others watched from the bench, Nash chilled like a boss.

The Suns’ current lineup on the floor: Stoudemire, Boris Diaw, Grant Hill, Kelenna Azubuike, and J.J. Barea.

It was the Suns debut for both Barea and Azubuike, and you could tell they were hyped. Maybe a little too hyped.

Their first possession? A botched pass and turnover.

The home crowd let out a collective groan.

”Seriously? That’s what we did all summer?” someone in the crowd muttered.

Not everyone’s built like Chen Yan. Having nerves of steel—that’s a real kind of talent too.

Still, D’Antoni didn’t yank them right away. He knew both Barea and Azubuike had real potential. They just needed time to mesh with the system.

The Raptors took advantage of the Suns’ second unit struggles late in the first quarter. T.J. Ford turned on the jets and assisted Kapono on three straight three-pointers. Ford’s speed was no joke—Iverson himself once admitted T.J. was the only guy in the league who might be faster than him.

With those three treys, Kapono surpassed 250 made threes in his career and edged out Steve Kerr’s record with a 46.1% clip—now officially the most accurate shooter in NBA history with 250 or more threes.

Jamario Moon, the older rookie, got in on the action too. He threw down a thunderous windmill dunk in transition that left jaws hanging.

Toronto’s role players? Underrated and dangerous. Everyone had a role and played it well.

Even Paul Pierce, chilling on the Raptors bench, couldn’t help but applaud the second unit.

”If I’d been subbed out in Boston, we’d be lucky not to get blown out,” Pierce said with a chuckle. ”These Raptors? They actually gain ground.”

Since being traded by the Celtics that summer, Pierce had spent two months stewing in frustration. But lately, he’d mellowed out. Boston was just nostalgia now. This Raptors squad? They were miles ahead of what the Celtics had been offering.

Back to the court, the Suns’ offense sputtered without Nash. The flow was gone—like someone hit the brakes on a freeway.

Without Chen Yan spacing the floor, they were stuck feeding Stoudemire and letting him go iso. Now, Amare’s one of the best face-up bigs in the game, no doubt. But without Nash setting him up? His efficiency dipped hard.

Veteran Grant Hill showed flashes though. Thanks to the Suns’ legendary medical staff, it looked like he’d recovered close to 50% of his old form.

At the end of the first, the Suns clung to a 34–29 lead.

During the break, D’Antoni made his move—he sent Chen Yan back in to start the second quarter.

Joining him: Barea, Raja Bell, Azubuike, and Matt Barnes.

Nash’s back wasn’t looking great, and Stoudemire had just logged almost the entire first quarter. So this was a full-on small-ball lineup, with Chen Yan as the clear focal point.

Toronto opened the quarter with a pick-and-roll—T.J. Ford running it with backup big man Rasho Nesterovic.

Ford’s plan was textbook: come off the screen, draw Chen Yan’s help, and kick it to Kapono for the open three. But Chen Yan had already sniffed that play out a few times at the end of the first quarter. He read it like a paperback and stayed glued to Kapono.

With no passing lane, Ford had to take it himself.

Clang!

Mid-range brick.

T.J. Ford’s jumper had always been shaky. This time was no different.

The rebound popped loose—and just like that, the Suns’ fast break ignited like a fuse.

The broadcast had just cut to a shot of D’Antoni pacing the sidelines, but by the time they cut back to the court?

Chen. Yan. Was. Gone.

He was already sprinting past the arc without the ball.

Ridiculous speed.

Only T.J. Ford managed to keep up—and he prided himself on being the fastest man in the league. But speed ain’t defense.

Just inside the three-point line, Chen Yan caught a full-court laser from Barea.

And without a moment’s hesitation?

He took off.

T.J. Ford, officially listed at 6’0”, looked like a child trying to contest him. Truth be told, he and Barea were basically the same height—probably both a shade under 5’11”.

With such a height difference, Chen Yan figured there was no point in wasting energy on fancy footwork.

”Boom!”

He exploded off the floor, rising into the air like a storm and slamming the ball through the rim with a vicious dunk!

TJ Ford regretted jumping the second he left the ground.

Because all he did was become a prop in someone else’s poster.

”Beautiful! TJ Ford had no answer for that one!” Yu Jia’s voice cracked with excitement. ”That whole sequence—from the fast break to the slam—took barely three seconds! Pure, explosive basketball!”

The arena erupted.

Fans jumped out of their seats, the roar thunderous. Under the deafening pressure, Jamario Moon botched the inbound pass.

Chen Yan, already in motion, stretched his long arms and picked it off like a hawk snatching prey!

TJ Ford scrambled back, desperate to force a turnover. He didn’t have many options—trying to guard Chen Yan one-on-one was a death sentence. A gamble-steal was his only play.

But luck wasn’t on his side.

Chen Yan spun away, his back brushing TJ aside like he was just morning traffic. Clean, smooth, effortless.

”Stop and pop! Go at him, Chen Yan!” Zhang Weiping shouted from the studio, adrenaline in his voice.

Chen Yan used his momentum to curl toward the basket. As he took off, Jamario Moon flew in from the baseline to meet him at the rim.

”Beep!”

The whistle blew just as Chen Yan switched hands mid-air and finessed the ball off his fingertips.

Bounce... bounce... bounce...

The ball kissed the rim three times before dropping in.

And-one!

The building shook.

TJ Ford, now twice immortalized in Chen Yan’s highlight reel, could only stare in disbelief. He was once Chen Yan’s senior at Texas. Now? Just another background in the rookie’s coming-out party.

The Suns swarmed him in celebration, bumping chests, shouting.

Even Steve Nash, usually calm on the bench, was up and clapping, eyes wide with admiration.

Two scoring plays in under five seconds.

Come on now... this kid might just be the next Son of the Wind.

Chen Yan sank the free throw, pushing the Suns’ lead into double digits.

Raptors coach Sam Mitchell immediately called timeout. The energy in the arena was volcanic, and he needed to cool it down before the game completely slipped away.

After the timeout, the Suns went full throttle.

In the past, their fast breaks had a classic V-formation—three guys sprinting ahead. But with the new small-ball lineup, all five players blitzed the court like sprinters in a 100-meter dash. It wasn’t basketball—it was track and field with a scoreboard.

Barea and Azubuike, now finding their rhythm, added points of their own.

The lead ballooned to 15.

D’Antoni could barely contain his smile. He’d only put out the small lineup to rest the starters for a few minutes. He hadn’t expected them to torch the Raptors.

At the 7:25 mark in the second quarter, the Suns rotated their starters back in.

Chen Yan stayed on the floor, though his role shifted slightly. With Nash out there now, he moved more off the ball, cutting and spacing, letting the offense breathe.

Compared to the grind of college ball, this felt like freedom.

Back at Texas, he had to carry everything. Constant double teams, every possession a battle.

Here, in Phoenix?

He had help. Stoudemire inside. Nash orchestrating outside. The floor opened up like a runway, and his skill set was tailor-made for this run-and-gun symphony.

The first half flew by.

Suns 66, Raptors 50.

A 16-point lead, and the building was electric.

Chen Yan’s halftime line? 21 points, 4 rebounds, 3 steals.

Better than many stars put up in an entire game.

But fans, especially back home, zeroed in on one stat:

Assists: 0.

Social media blew up.

”Chen Yan really took the pass button off his controller.”

”Kobe disciple confirmed.”

The jokes were flying.

But it wasn’t that Chen Yan didn’t want to pass—it’s that Coach D’Antoni told him not to.

Sounds crazy, but it’s true.

Day one on the team, D’Antoni laid it out: ”Your job is simple. Score the damn ball.”

The Suns didn’t need another facilitator. They had Nash. They had Diaw. Passing was the last thing they lacked.

If anything, the team had too many guys looking to set others up. Especially Nash, who always put playmaking first—even to a fault.

Opponents knew it too. Shut down Stoudemire, and the Suns’ rhythm fell apart. Especially in the playoffs, when every possession was life or death.

So no—Chen Yan didn’t ”lose” the pass button.

The Suns just finally found someone selfish enough to save them from being too selfless.

[TL: I’ll continue this fanfic,. to those that encourage me, Thank you!]

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