NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 334: Chapter 334: The Heat Intensifies, Phoenix Needs Heroes

Chapter 334: The Heat Intensifies, Phoenix Needs Heroes

”Great shot, keep letting it fly!” D’Antoni reached out and slapped Chen Yan’s hand as he sprinted back on defense.

D’Antoni understood better than anyone what it meant when Chen Yan’s jumper came alive. If Chen Yan could stretch the floor with those deep 3s, the Suns’ entire offense would breathe again.

Up in the booth, TNT’s voices carried the moment.

”That is a ridiculous shot,” Marv Albert said, his tone rising. ”He’s turning the super deep 3 into a regular weapon. That’s not supposed to be normal.”

Doug Collins chuckled. ”And once he sees one go in, the rim gets big for him. If you let him play downhill like this, you’re basically inviting a scoring avalanche.”

Down on the floor, the Suns’ run had dragged the deficit down to single digit. The building was still loud, still hostile, but the momentum had shifted just enough to make the Lakers uneasy.

...

The Lakers answered with their own star.

Kobe waved his teammates away and called for a post up. Phoenix was surging, and Kobe signaled that it was his turn to slam the brakes.

At the top, he dribbled between his legs twice, rose over Raja Bell, and drilled a mid range jumper that looked like it came straight out of his personal highlight reel.

Phil Jackson exhaled on the sideline like a man who had just dodged a car crash. That shot saved him from burning a timeout. If the Lakers missed, and Phoenix came down hot again, he would have had no choice.

The score held at 73 to 77.

It felt ridiculous that Phoenix was still trailing after Chen Yan had scored 17 straight, but that was the truth of this game. Chen Yan was brilliant, yet the Lakers were sharp as a unit.

Kobe was not alone. The role players were doing their jobs. The defense was connected. The spacing was clean. Everyone was contributing in the exact way Phil Jackson wanted.

It was Phil’s old belief, the team is a cake, and every player has a slice. Not everyone eats with points. Some eat with rebounds. Some with defense. Some with screens, extra passes, little sacrifices that never show up in the headlines.

When everyone gets their slice, the team becomes dangerous.

And tonight, the Lakers were dangerous.

...

Phoenix possession.

Chen Yan called for a screen a step beyond the 3 point line, and Stoudemire came up to set it. The pick arrived, and Chen Yan did not drive. He slid sideways, just 1 step, like he was resetting the board.

That tiny move made the Lakers flinch.

Because tonight, Chen Yan’s shooting was a problem that could not be solved with normal math.

Garnett switched, and Posey fought around the screen to appear right in front of Chen Yan.

Another double team.

Chen Yan’s answer was simple. He paused, almost relaxed, then pushed the ball forward and shot through the gap between them like a sprinter hitting open lane.

He knew their focus. They feared the pull up. That fear created space, and Chen Yan used it like a key.

In 2 strides he was inside, and only Kwame Brown was left in the paint.

”Stop him!”

Staples Center yelled it together, a single roar that seemed to pour straight into Kwame’s chest.

Kwame threw his arms wide and jumped with everything he had. For once, the hesitation was gone. If he could not block it, he would foul hard and make Chen Yan feel it.

But Chen Yan never tried to finish.

Before Kwame even reached the peak, Chen Yan floated the ball upward, soft and perfectly timed.

Kwame’s eyes flicked to the side.

Stoudemire was already rising behind him.

Bang!

Alley oop dunk.

Chen Yan had made the right play, the clean play. If attacking the rim against Kwame was 80%, then feeding an unguarded Stoudemire was basically 100%. That was not hesitation, it was calculation.

The game stayed razor close, and the pressure tightened every possession. Both teams punched, both teams answered.

When the 3rd quarter ended, the score was 77 to 79.

Phoenix had nearly erased a double digit hole, and the fight was only getting uglier.

...

The 4th quarter turned into a brawl disguised as basketball.

Chen Yan dove out of bounds to save a ball and smashed straight into referee Joey Crawford, sending him stumbling.

Nash twisted his body almost sideways to force in a layup, then crashed to the floor without caring about his back.

Stoudemire and Garnett fought for position like it was a wrestling match, hands everywhere, shoulders digging, neither willing to give an inch.

For a lot of fans, it felt like the 90s had briefly returned. You could hear the collisions and feel them through the screen.

...

Then the clock started to strangle everyone.

With 2:30 left, Phoenix trailed 94 to 99.

They had emptied the tank. Yet with the Lakers shooting over 50% from the field, Phoenix’s effort still looked like it might not be enough to flip the game.

And even the Lakers were frustrated. Kobe already had 41 points. Garnett had 27 points and 15 rebounds. When two stars explode like that, most nights end early.

Not tonight.

Because Chen Yan was still burning.

He already had 47 points, and not in some soft regular season game. This was the Western Conference Finals, in a building trying to swallow him whole, against a defense built like steel.

At this point, it was not about diagrams or schemes.

It was willpower.

Whoever could bite down harder in the final minutes would win.

...

Lakers possession.

Kobe attacked the rim, crowded by 3 Suns defenders, and flipped up a floater.

The ball rolled once, then spun out.

Staples groaned.

Before the sound could even finish, Garnett crashed in, snatched the offensive rebound, and scored the putback.

Swish.

94 to 101.

”A huge play by Garnett!” Marv Albert shouted. ”Kobe misses, and Garnett cleans it up.”

Doug Collins’ voice turned serious. ”That’s 7 points with about 2 minutes left. Phoenix needs a hero.”

The camera found Chen Yan immediately.

Because everyone in the arena, and everyone watching at home, knew the same thing.

If Phoenix was going to steal this game, it was going to have his fingerprints all over it.

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