NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 236: Chapter 236: Iverson’s 2–1, a Picture-Perfect Pull-Up [Bonus Chapter]

TL: 300 PS

Chapter 236: Iverson’s 2–1, a Picture-Perfect Pull-Up

Chen Yan closed the first quarter with 14 points, 3 assists, and 2 rebounds.

After his explosive scoring run, the Nuggets shifted their focus, sending double-teams at him on nearly every possession.

Chen didn’t force shots. Instead, he drew defenders in, spread the ball around, and allowed the Suns’ offense to flow naturally.

The second quarter began with both benches checking in.

J.R. Smith entered the game full of confidence, eager to prove himself after being benched for most of the first quarter. The Nuggets needed a spark, and J.R. believed he could provide it.

On the Suns’ side, veteran Grant Hill led the second unit. His composure on the court was remarkable—steady, controlled, the kind of presence that keeps a team grounded.

Azubuike and Barea, who had both been reliable during the regular season, showed early signs of playoff nerves. Their shooting mechanics were tight, passes went astray, and a few turnovers followed.

The Nuggets didn’t have that problem. Or rather, J.R. Smith didn’t. He wasn’t nervous—he was reckless.

The moment he touched the ball, he fired away. Deep threes, turnaround fadeaways, contested drives through traffic—he tried them all. That was classic J.R.: feast or famine.

But tonight, he was starving.

Every shot clanged off the rim.

Fans online started joking that J.R.’s ”Michael Jordan experience card” had expired.

George Karl, watching from the bench, was fuming, but he couldn’t afford to bench him too early. J.R. was the Nuggets’ best scoring option off the bench, averaging over 12 points per game. His confidence was both his weapon and his downfall.

As J.R. bricked shot after shot, the Suns gradually widened their lead to double digits.

With 8:36 remaining in the second quarter, George Karl finally had enough. He pulled J.R. and sent Carmelo Anthony back in to stabilize the offense.

Melo immediately made an impact, using his strength and footwork to score inside. But while his offense clicked, his defense remained a liability, slowing Denver’s comeback attempt.

At the 5:56 mark, the Suns led 48–40, and both teams called for a timeout.

When play resumed, both coaches made key adjustments.

The Suns went small: Nash, Chen Yan, Raja Bell, Grant Hill, and Matt Barnes. It was a modern lineup ahead of its time—fast, flexible, and lethal in transition.

The Nuggets countered with Anthony Carter, Iverson, Kleiza, Kenyon Martin, and Marcus Camby. George Karl rested Carmelo, staggering his and Iverson’s minutes for better scoring balance.

The ball went to Iverson.

Raja Bell was assigned to guard him—a matchup rich with history. Years ago, they’d been teammates on the Sixers, and Bell knew Iverson’s habits as well as anyone.

Iverson dribbled between his legs, his body swaying like a pendulum. Bell stayed in front of him, matching every step.

But against a player like Iverson, positioning alone wasn’t enough.

Stars don’t rely on openings—they create them.

Iverson gave a quick behind-the-back move, stepped right, and rose smoothly into a pull-up jumper.

Swish!

The shot from the free-throw line was pure.

Bell’s late contest clipped Iverson’s calf, knocking him slightly off balance. Iverson fell forward, flat on his chest—but when he looked up, the ball was in.

He spread his arms and shouted, ”And-one! Hey! And-one!”

But the whistle didn’t blow.

Furious, Iverson sprang up, clapping and following the referee, barking into his ear.

Everyone knew the call wouldn’t be changed. After years in the league, Iverson wasn’t really arguing; he was venting.

Beep!

The referee stopped, turned, and hit him with a technical foul.

Iverson exhaled sharply and bit his lip, trying to keep calm. He’d been through worse.

From the commentary booth, Barkley burst out laughing. ”Hahaha! Iverson went from 2-and-1 to 2-minus-1!”

Kenny Smith chuckled. ”After all these years, Allen still can’t keep that temper in check.”

Fans joined the debate online.

”That was a clear and-one!”

”The refs are favoring Phoenix!”

”It’s home court! That’s the advantage you play all season for!”

”Denver will get theirs back in Colorado—this is just how it goes!”

Back on the court, Nash calmly sank the technical free throw.

49–42. Suns ball.

Grant Hill inbounded from the sideline.

Chen Yan made a quick cut toward him, faking a handoff before planting hard and bursting back toward the paint.

The sudden move caught the Nuggets’ defense off guard. Hill threw a perfect bounce pass to Chen, who caught it in stride.

Only one man stood between him and the rim—Marcus Camby, the league’s leading shot-blocker.

Camby took a deep breath, knees bent, ready to contest.

Chen gathered, launched off one foot, and met him midair.

The crowd collectively rose to their feet.

Everyone wanted to see if Chen could dunk on the shot-block king.

But mid-jump, Camby realized something was wrong.

He had jumped straight up. Chen had jumped through.

Gliding forward like a long jumper, Chen twisted his body midair, his momentum carrying him past Camby’s outstretched arm.

With a fluid motion, he switched hands and scooped the ball off the glass—banking it in before landing.

Swish!

An incredible acrobatic layup.

The fans went wild. The smoothness, the body control—it was art in motion.

Even Barkley was stunned. ”That’s just beautiful. Forget the dunk, that was poetry.”

And just like that, Chen Yan had turned a collision into a masterpiece.

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