NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 76: Chapter 76: 40+ in a Single Game, the Suns’ Show-Time Moment

Chapter 76: 40+ in a Single Game, the Suns’ Show-Time Moment

After Iverson checked out of the game, Carmelo Anthony was the Nuggets’ only reliable one-on-one scorer left on the floor.

That made the Suns’ defensive approach a lot simpler.

Raja Bell stuck to Anthony like glue, while whoever was closest stayed ready to rotate or double at a moment’s notice.

On this offensive possession, Melo tried to shake off the attention by moving without the ball. The point guard, Anthony Carter—who had just come in for Iverson—took the ball and hoisted a three from outside.

Clank!

Off the back iron.

Carter hadn’t shot over 30% from deep in years. He wasn’t a guy you feared behind the arc.

Chen Yan grabbed the board clean and fired the outlet pass to Nash without hesitation.

And just like that, the Suns were on the break.

Nash pushed the tempo, weaving through defenders with his signature tight handle. Just as he drew the help, he kicked the ball out wide—

It was poetry in motion.

Nash’s movement sliced through Denver’s defense like a scalpel, throwing the whole scheme into chaos.

Chen Yan caught it in rhythm and exploded forward—but Melo was already closing in.

Bang!

The two collided hard at the top of the key, and Chen Yan bounced off him like he hit a brick wall.

”Damn...” Chen thought, catching his breath. ”Did I just crash into a grizzly bear?”

Melo was built like a tank. That was no surprise—his physicality was elite, even among NBA wings. Chen’s slimmer frame wasn’t winning that battle.

But instead of trying to muscle through, Chen used the impact to bounce back. He created just enough space.

He stepped back with one foot on the three-point line and let it fly—

Swish!

Pure.

Melo didn’t even bother raising a hand this time. He just watched the ball arc through the air and drop clean.

On the next Nuggets possession, Melo demanded the rock.

Yeah, he took that last bucket personally.

After backing down Raja Bell with two strong bumps, Melo spun inside and took a long, powerful step toward the paint, absorbing contact from Stoudemire as he rose up.

Bang!

Rejected—right off the rim.

But Melo wasn’t done.

He immediately grabbed his own miss and went right back up, finishing the second-chance effort with authority.

That was vintage Melo—relentless on the boards and fearless in the paint. Get blocked? No problem. He’d just fight until the damn ball went in.

From the sideline, Suns head coach Mike D’Antoni was yelling instructions.

”Double him! Trap hard! Be decisive!”

He knew if they could contain Melo with this current Denver lineup, the Nuggets were done.

Back on offense, Nash brought the ball up and rifled a bounce pass to Bell, who was spotting up from the right wing—about 45 degrees outside the arc.

Bell hesitated just a second too long.

That window was gone.

With Melo recovering, Bell didn’t force it. Instead, he slid sideways and handed it off to Chen Yan.

Now Melo had to switch onto Chen again.

Bell couldn’t break down Melo off the dribble even if he tried—he wasn’t built like that. He wasn’t a shot-creator. Even if you gave him ten tries, he still wouldn’t cook anyone.

So once again, it was Chen Yan versus Carmelo Anthony.

Stoudemire started coming up for a screen, but Chen waved him off.

”Nah,” he muttered. ”I got this.”

He’d rather take Melo in isolation than let Denver switch the pick-and-roll.

Melo dropped into a low stance, pulling his shorts up slightly and settling into position. You could tell he was locked in this time.

He wasn’t gonna let the rookie cook him three times in a row. Not without a fight.

To be fair, when Melo actually tried, he could defend at a solid level.

Chen Yan sized him up, palming the ball with one hand.

Without any wasted motion, he exploded to Melo’s left.

Melo gave him space, keeping a cushion to avoid getting beat on the first step. He slid his feet well, cutting off the lane.

Right when their bodies were about to make contact again, Chen slammed on the brakes.

Step-back.

It was a filthy move—low center of gravity, one hand bracing the court as he leaned back for balance.

Smooth.

Melo recovered quickly, not giving up the jumper like last time.

But Chen read his footwork.

He switched the ball between his legs, burst left again, and just like that—Melo was cooked.

His feet were a mess, all crossed up. Chen blew right past.

By the time Camby and Kenyon Martin rotated over, it was already too late. Chen dished a slick bounce pass off the drive—

Right into Nash’s hands.

The Canadian point guard cut in perfectly, laying it up off the glass, uncontested.

”Woo! That’s beautiful basketball, Charles!” Kenny Smith said with a grin.

”Man, Chen’s really been dishing it tonight,” Barkley replied, impressed. ”Looks like he’s been paying attention to Nash after all.”

In the early season, Nash had been the Suns’ primary table-setter, with Chen playing more of the finisher’s role.

But this game? The script had flipped.

After knocking down the shot, Nash flashed a grin and pointed at Chen Yan. ”Appreciate the dime, rookie.”

It felt damn good to be the one getting assisted for a change.

On the next possession, Carmelo Anthony kept attacking, but the Suns’ double-team threw him off balance. He bricked the shot under pressure.

Díaz grabbed the board and immediately kicked off the fast break. The Suns were off and running again!

Boom—transition time!

Díaz launched a perfect quarterback-style pass to Nash near half court. Nash caught it mid-air and, without even letting it hit the floor, whipped a behind-the-back pass.

Chen Yan, flying in from the wing, caught it just outside the arc. With Anthony Carter hounding him, Chen fired a no-look, over-the-head dish behind him.

”BOOM!!”

Stoudemire came storming down the lane, snatching the ball out of the air and hammering it home.

After the dunk, Stoudemire pounded his chest right in front of the baseline camera, screaming into the lens like a man possessed.

The crowd at America West Arena exploded. The Suns’ offense this possession? One word: beautiful.

”WOW!!” Barkley shouted from the broadcast booth. ”That’s textbook! Poetry in motion!”

”I haven’t seen ball movement like this in an NBA game in years,” Kenny Smith added, shaking his head in awe.

Before the announcers could even catch their breath, the Suns struck again. They forced a turnover right at the top of the key.

Nash scooped up the loose ball and sent a slick between-the-legs pass to Díaz, who immediately kicked it to a slashing Chen Yan—never even touched the floor.

The Nuggets’ defense froze.

Chen Yan took one stride, lifted off like a damn glider, and smashed it in with a thunderous one-hand dunk.

”BOOM!!!”

That wasn’t just the rim getting rocked. That was the arena erupting.

The crowd went wild. The Suns’ bench stood up as one, their towels spinning like helicopter blades.

”Good God!” Barkley was nearly standing at the desk. ”The Suns are running their own version of Showtime out here!”

He was, of course, referring to the legendary Los Angeles Lakers led by Magic Johnson—the team that turned fast breaks into art with dazzling passes and elite execution. That team performed every time they stepped on the floor.

”Well, tonight’s Suns are putting on a damn performance of their own!” Kenny Smith shouted over the roar of the crowd. ”This is fun basketball, Chuck!”

Over on the Nuggets’ bench, Coach George Karl had seen enough. He burned a timeout.

Coming out of the break, Karl subbed in J.R. Smith to try to give the offense a spark. J.R. got his looks—two open jumpers—but bricked them both, then followed up with a wild heat-check three that clanged off the back iron.

Classic J.R.—feast or famine.

Meanwhile, the Suns just kept flowing. Their offense was a symphony. No iso-ball, no ball-stoppers, just rhythm and movement.

Chen Yan wasn’t hunting for points, but he didn’t need to. The points were finding him.

By the end of the third quarter, Phoenix led Denver 87–70.

Chen Yan was sitting on 39 points.

Just one bucket away from his first 40-piece.

In the fourth, the Nuggets came out swinging.

Anthony and Iverson each hit early shots, trying to will their team back into the game. The Golden Guns were going down firing.

Iverson, reckless as ever, drove hard to the rack and crashed into the base of the stanchion. He winced, grabbing his hand. When a teammate asked if he was okay, he just shook it off and flashed his fingers: ”I’m good.”

They briefly cut the lead to 10, but the Suns weren’t rattled.

Phoenix responded with a barrage of threes that drowned any hope of a comeback.

That’s the beauty of the Suns’ system: they don’t fear scoring runs—they welcome the challenge and answer back with something even nastier.

With 7:24 on the clock, Nash missed a corner three. Chen Yan slipped through the cracks, grabbed the offensive board, and scored on a smooth putback.

41 points.

A few possessions later, Chen Yan nailed a mid-range jumper off the curl.

43 points.

George Karl called it. He pulled his starters. Down 26, it was curtains.

D’Antoni followed suit, pulling his starters as well. That’s the NBA’s unspoken code—garbage time had officially arrived.

Chen Yan sat on the bench, laughing and joking with teammates. He looked loose, happy. His first 40-point game in the books.

Across the court, the Nuggets’ bench was dead silent. Carmelo Anthony, who had started the game all smiles and trash talk, now sat slumped over, staring into space.

Meanwhile, Barkley was grinning like a lottery winner.

He’d made a bet earlier in the broadcast that Chen Yan wouldn’t just keep his 30+ streak alive, but would break 40 tonight.

Guess who was buying post-game drinks?

Kenny Smith, on the other hand, had his head down in thought.

”...man,” he muttered, ”which underwear am I wearing the next time we do a Suns game?”

[TL: Guys, please give this fic a Power Stones it’s all i want from you guys huhuhuhuh]

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