NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 156: Chapter 156: Start the Offensive Mode, 1v1 Men’s Battle!

Chapter 156: Start the Offensive Mode, 1v1 Men’s Battle!

”Good job, fellas! Keep pushing! Don’t let them breathe!”

Mike D’Antoni clapped on the sideline, his voice sharp and encouraging. Going into the fourth quarter with a lead was more than a number — it was psychological leverage.

To start the final frame, D’Antoni didn’t lean fully on Chen Yan. The plan was to let him conserve a little gas for the closing stretch. The fourth quarter tipped off with the same lineups that ended the third.

The Lakers struck first.

Garnett set up in the high post, forcing Stoudemire to respect his range. Kobe circled him, faking a handoff, then suddenly cut backdoor. Garnett’s bounce pass was on the money. Kobe rose, hammered it down with one hand.

93–95.

The high school duo still had that rhythm. Garnett slapped Kobe’s hand as they jogged back on defense. Two months together, and the chemistry was starting to look seamless.

The Suns answered. Diaw inbounded quickly, Nash pushed the ball, stopped on a dime, and let fly from deep.

”Swish!”

93–98.

Vintage Nash. Everyone expected him to create. Instead, he pulled up cold and buried it.

Over the next two minutes, Nash orchestrated an 8–0 run. The Lakers were stunned. Phil Jackson had no choice but to signal timeout.

The Zen Master gathered his players, his calm voice carrying an edge.

”Slow it down. Don’t chase the score. Possession by possession — grind them. Trust the system.”

Kobe threw his hand into the huddle. ”One, two, three — we win!”

The Lakers shouted back in unison. Energy surged.

Coming out of the timeout, the response was immediate. The Lakers punched back with a 12–2 run. The Suns’ lead evaporated, cut to just three.

With five minutes left, the pressure was suffocating. The Lakers’ defense clamped down.

Raja Bell drove baseline — denied by Kobe, who swatted him from behind.

On the next trip, Amar’e Stoudemire forced a midrange jumper. Clank.

That was the danger of D’Antoni’s run-and-gun: when forced into a half-court slugfest, the efficiency dropped. It was the reason this Suns system thrived in the regular season but always hit a wall in the playoffs.

Kobe sensed the moment. Off a Garnett screen, he curled, rose, and drilled a contested jumper.

107–108. The Lakers were within one.

The Suns rushed back, Nash slicing into the paint, circling, probing — but the Lakers closed off every lane. The ball swung back out. Chen Yan caught it on the wing.

It was time.

He held it high in one hand, waved for Stoudemire to set the screen. Amar’e planted himself like a wall. Chen weaved around him, cutting, sprinting, stopping, restarting. Kobe stayed glued, chasing every angle, fighting over every screen.

It looked less like basketball and more like two men locked in a shadow war.

With the shot clock down to single digits, Chen suddenly dropped his shoulder, rose up just inside the arc, and launched a pull-up.

Perfect lift. Perfect form. Perfect release.

”Splash!”

106–110.

The crowd exploded. Chen froze in his shooting pose, holding it as he backpedaled. The cheers rained down, and he soaked them in.

The Lakers countered. With the shot clock winding down, Kobe stepped back behind the line and fired over Raja Bell’s outstretched arm.

”Swish!”

Tie-breaker answered. Kobe clenched his jaw, no celebration — just fire in his eyes.

”Your turn,” the fans seemed to scream.

Nash found Chen again, curling off Stoudemire’s screen. Kobe was a half step late, caught behind the big man. No help rotated. Chen had space — too much space.

The ball left his hands.

”FOR THREEEE—” the arena DJ bellowed as it sailed.

”Swish!”

113–109.

The America West Arena went nuclear. Fans roared, towels whipped, the Suns’ bench went wild.

But the Lakers weren’t finished. Kobe demanded the ball, danced with Garnett on a handoff, then slashed hard to the rim. Contact. The whistle blew. The ball kissed the glass and dropped.

And-one.

Kobe let out a guttural roar, fist clenched. The boos rained down, but he thrived in it. At the line, his eyes narrowed. Swish.

113–112.

Back and forth. Shot for shot.

The crowd knew it. The players knew it. The building felt it.

The final minutes weren’t going to be about systems, or schemes, or rotations.

It was going to be one man against another.

Chen Yan vs. Kobe Bryant.

A one-on-one duel for the Christmas stage.

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