NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 309: Chapter 309: Do Not Copy Chen Yan

Chapter 309: Do Not Copy Chen Yan

In living rooms, bars, and dorms all over the country, fans exploded when that logo three dropped.

No matter how many times you see that kind of super deep three point shot, it still sends a jolt straight through your spine.

All series long, people had been arguing about Chen Yan’s style.

He was pulling up from distances most coaches would call insane. On paper, it made no sense at all.

But as the series shifted in Phoenix’s favor, especially after that miracle comeback in the last game, the conversation changed.

Results shut people up.

When you drag your team back from the edge, twice, people stop calling you reckless and start calling you fearless.

And young fans loved it.

Fans watch for two things, entertainment and wins.

Chen delivered both. It was almost impossible not to fall for him.

Soon, on playgrounds and school courts, you could see it everywhere.

Kids imitating the form. Kids stepping way behind the line. Kids pointing at the center logo and saying,

”I am Chen Yan.”

Pull up. Let it fly.

Logo shot.

It got bad enough that school coaches were losing their minds.

”Do not learn from Chen Yan!”

”This style is not for you. Start with footwork, layups, and free throws first!”

That became the stock speech in campus basketball during that stretch.

...

Back in San Antonio, the Spurs finally had enough.

Over the next few possessions, Popovich abandoned his usual philosophy and sent double teams at Chen.

Under normal circumstances, the Spurs almost never blitzed star scorers. For years, their belief had been simple: the star can eat, everyone else goes hungry.

Contain the role players, live with what the great ones do, and trust your system.

From their first title in 1999, San Antonio’s defense had been near the top of the league almost every season.

Teams dreaded seeing them in May.

And yet, almost every spring, there was somebody on the other side putting up god level numbers against that exact system.

In 1999, Latrell Sprewell averaged 26 points a game against them, in an era where teams struggled to break 80.

In 2000, Hardaway tore into them, leading his team in points, assists, and steals.

In 2001, Kobe poured in more than 30 a night on the Spurs. In 2002, he averaged 26.2 points, 5.4 rebounds, 4.8 assists, and 1 steal.

In 2003, he went up to 32.3 points, 5 rebounds, 3.7 assists, and 1 steal.

That was the stretch when Kobe officially became the Spurs’ nightmare.

In 2005, Nash averaged 25 points and 12 assists against them, and Stoudemire detonated for 37 points and 9 rebounds a night on 55 percent shooting.

In 2006, Bonzi Wells put up 23.2 points and 12 rebounds, including 4.2 offensive rebounds, while shooting an absurd 62.5 percent from the field.

You could go on all day. Every year, there was somebody.

Popovich’s defensive framework was brutally efficient, but it was also unconventional.

And now, for the first time, Pop looked at the numbers and realized the old formula was not working.

Because Chen Yan was rewriting the math.

Through the first 5 games of the series, Chen averaged 44.2 points.

He had already hung 50 plus on the Spurs twice.

In all of Spurs history under Popovich, nobody had ever dropped more than 50 in a game on them.

Chen did it twice in one series.

That was not just a big performance. That was historic.

Even when the Spurs finally started sending extra bodies at him, it did not shut the faucet off.

Because on this night, Nash and Stoudemire were flowing too.

With the floor stretched and help pulled toward Chen, Nash kept finding gaps to slice through and shooters to feed. Stoudemire rolled into empty paint again and again, hammering home dunks and soft finishes.

Once the doubles came, every mistake the Spurs made turned into an open lane or a clean catch and shoot.

And the Suns’ role players smelled blood.

They were no longer looking at San Antonio like some mountain they could never climb. Not after Game 5.

The mental weight was gone.

Against this team that had haunted Phoenix for years, the Suns were finally playing free.

Late in the first quarter, they strung together another burst. Stops, run outs, quick threes, hard drives.

By the time the horn sounded, the lead had stretched beyond 15.

The noise inside ATT Center started to die, while living rooms back home only got louder.

...

Second quarter.

The pressure did not let up.

Phoenix kept their foot on the gas and continued to squeeze the Spurs on both ends.

Popovich finally gave up on the half court three on three scheme.

The idea had been to kill the Suns’ transition game.

The reality was brutal.

Phoenix was not just running them off the floor. They were shooting them out of the gym in the half court too.

And on the other end, that same tactic was hurting San Antonio’s own offense.

Between quarters, the Suns’ staff came up with a simple adjustment.

Ignore the two so called free men near the top of the arc and send all five defenders at the three active offensive players.

Five bodies on three options.

If the ball swung out to one of the stationary Spurs standing near midcourt, it did not matter. They were too far from the basket to attack immediately. They had to put the ball on the floor to get into range.

That extra dribble was the window Phoenix needed.

The moment the ball touched the floor, a Suns defender would fly out, contesting the shot and wrecking the rhythm.

The result was ugly for San Antonio.

Even wide open, shooters could not get comfortable. Timing was off, steps were rushed, and clean looks rattled out.

Before the second quarter ended, Popovich was forced to scrap his so called secret weapon entirely.

From there, the half played out in one direction only.

One side determined to throw punches.

The other side too shaken to answer.

When the buzzer finally sounded for halftime, the score glared from above the court.

59 to 38.

The Suns led by 21.

Nobody, not even the most optimistic fan in Phoenix or the most pessimistic in San Antonio, had expected the gap to be this wide.

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