NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 340: Chapter 340: The Villain Arrives and Takes Down G5

Chapter 340: The Villain Arrives and Takes Down G5

The Phoenix Suns bench was already on its feet, towels whipping through the air.

With 1:09 left, Chen Yan had drilled a 3 to push Phoenix ahead, and the building felt like it was bracing for the final punch.

Los Angeles came up with the ball.

Kobe brought it across half court, but his body looked like it was running on fumes. His legs were heavy, his hands stiff, every step a little slower than it was 10 minutes ago. Still, he kept the ball. He always kept the ball. In his mind, willpower could drag a tired body across the finish line.

Staples Center went quiet in that special way only a playoff crowd can, where you can almost hear people swallowing.

Kobe called for a screen near the top.

The noise surged, fans pleading for the moment to bend back in their favor, because in this arena Kobe was not just the star, he was the belief.

He came off the pick, slid sideways, rose into a brutal fading jumper.

Clang.

Stoudemire exploded upward and secured the rebound.

Phoenix did not run. Nobody had legs left for track meet basketball. The Suns were leading, and forcing a fast break now would be begging for a turnover.

Nash walked it over half court and bled the clock.

All 5 Suns spaced out and held their spots, conserving every last ounce. The Lakers looked the same, hands on knees, chests heaving, the game reduced to the final truth, stars decide the ending.

A year ago, Phoenix probably loses this kind of game. Nash was the conductor, not the closer, and Stoudemire was a big who lived off pressure created by others.

This year, they had Chen Yan.

Off the ball, Chen Yan gave Ariza a subtle nudge, then drifted up toward the top.

The moment the Lakers leaned toward him, Nash whipped an overhead pass to Diaw.

Diaw caught and attacked the lane hard.

He left his feet and, in mid air, fired a ridiculous behind the back pass to Barnes, wide open near the short corner outside the paint.

The crowd gasped at the audacity. In this moment, Diaw still played like the game was a playground.

The pass was perfect.

Barnes was not ready.

He was on the floor because Raja Bell had fouled out, and his assignment was simple, guard Kobe. He had not pictured himself taking a shot that could swing Game 5.

From just outside the restricted area, Barnes rushed a floater.

Clang.

No contest, no contact, and it still hit front rim and bounced away.

On the Suns bench, towels flew up over faces like someone had pulled the curtains. That was the shot.

Garnett snatched the rebound, and Phil Jackson instantly called the Lakers last timeout.

For Los Angeles, this was the narrow doorway back into the game.

Barnes trudged toward the bench, shoulders slumped. Chen Yan met him halfway and patted him on the shoulder, telling him to let it go. They were still up, and they still needed Barnes to stay locked in on Kobe.

In the huddle, Phil started drawing.

Then Kobe reached in and snatched the clipboard.

”What play?” Kobe barked. ”Just give me the ball.”

The huddle froze.

It was a direct challenge to the Zen Master, right in front of everyone. But Phil knew what time it was. If the Lakers were going to survive, they could not afford division.

Phil nodded once.

”Fine,” he said. ”Give it to Kobe. Everybody space out. Let him finish it.”

Garnett leaned in, eyes burning through exhaustion.

”Go make it,” he told Kobe. ”We’ll clean up everything else.”

Hands came together. The timeout ended.

...

35 seconds.

Frontcourt inbound for the Lakers.

Kobe caught it 2 steps beyond the 3 point line at the top, and the Lakers cleared the floor.

Sometimes the best play is the simplest play. 1 on 1, star versus defender, no confusion, no traffic.

Barnes stayed tight, determined to take away the 3. If Kobe wanted a 2, fine. A 2 did not save them.

Los Angeles was down 3. Kobe knew what he had to hunt.

He jabbed, dribbled, shifted, then rose from the right wing at a 45 degree angle for a 3.

Barnes was a half step late, arm stretched as far as it could reach.

Clang.

Staples Center recoiled like it had been punched.

But then Garnett moved.

With whatever strength he had left, he ripped the offensive rebound out from between Diaw and Stoudemire.

It was his 20th rebound of the night.

No hesitation. Garnett kicked it back out to Kobe.

Barnes and Chen Yan both sprinted at him.

Kobe caught and shot immediately, no reset, no extra dribble, just pure instinct and pure nerve.

The ball arced high.

Every fan stood still, breath trapped in their chest.

Bang.

Swish.

A banked 3, contested by 2 defenders.

129 to 129.

Staples Center detonated.

Kobe tore at his jersey and roared, like he was trying to rip the last 2 overtimes out of his body and throw them into the crowd.

On the TNT call, Charles Barkley sounded like he could not believe what he was watching.

”That is ridiculous,” Charles said. ”That is a bad shot for everybody else on Earth, and for Kobe it’s a prayer he answers himself.”

Kenny Smith came in calmer, but even he could not hide it.

”He caught it ready,” Kenny said. ”No dip, no rhythm dribble, just straight up. That’s veteran muscle memory. That’s hours on hours.”

The arena shook, but Phil Jackson on the sideline did not smile.

Because he knew the real problem.

The Lakers had just tied it, and they had left Chen Yan with the last 15 seconds.

...

Phoenix used its last timeout.

D’Antoni did not need to draw up something fancy. He needed the ball inbounded in the frontcourt, and he needed it to find Chen Yan.

Chen Yan had 69 points already. Everyone in the building knew what was coming.

If Phoenix scored, they stole the game.

If not, they were heading to a 3rd overtime on the road with legs that barely worked.

Timeout ended.

Chen Yan stepped onto the floor like he was walking into a spotlight.

He understood the math of playoff legend. A performance only becomes history if it ends in a win. Lose, and people start throwing around ugly labels and cheap arguments.

15 seconds.

Diaw took the ball on the sideline.

Garnett flailed his arms, doing everything he could to cloud the passing lane.

The referee whistled, and the 4 Suns lined up near the free throw line spread out together.

Chen Yan used Stoudemire’s screen and caught Diaw’s pass 1 step in front of the center circle.

Charles’ voice rose.

”Alright, this is it,” he said. ”You know who’s shooting it. Everybody knows.”

Kenny answered.

”And look who’s guarding him,” Kenny said. ”That’s Kobe. They’re putting pride on pride.”

Kobe stepped up in front of Chen Yan.

The 2 had battled all night, and now the game came down to a final possession, a final answer.

Chen Yan palmed the ball with 1 hand and let the clock drain. Even if he missed, he was not giving the Lakers enough time for a clean response.

10 seconds.

Chen Yan dropped into his dribble.

He rocked side to side, rhythm tight, feet quick, trying to pull Kobe’s balance just far enough to create daylight.

Kobe stayed disciplined, eyes locked on Chen Yan’s hips, refusing to reach.

10

9

8

Chen Yan still could not fully shake him.

For a moment, it looked like Kobe had him pinned.

Then Chen Yan stopped short and raised his eyes to the rim, selling the 3.

Kobe leaned forward to contest.

And Chen Yan hit him with his Buddha Pose hesitation, snapped into a crossover, and restarted like someone cut the rope holding him back.

He was free.

Chen Yan drove.

Not fast, not flashy, just relentless.

Garnett, Kwame Brown, and Ariza collapsed together.

Chen Yan rose anyway.

His lift was not what it had been in regulation, so he stole the space with body control. In the air, he twisted into an exaggerated fade, almost horizontal, and flicked the ball with 1 hand as he drifted away from the crowd.

Bang.

The shot dropped clean.

131 to 129.

Staples Center went dead silent.

Charles let out a helpless laugh.

”Oh my goodness,” he said. ”That ain’t a fadeaway, that’s a lay down and pray.”

Kenny sounded stunned, then certain.

”That’s a superstar shot,” he said. ”He created the angle, he created the separation, and he finished through 3 bodies. That’s what the best do.”

Chen Yan hit the floor and stayed there for a beat, chest heaving, completely spent. Teammates reached down and pulled him up.

Even exhausted, he still performed.

He turned toward the crowd and gave a slow, deliberate bow, like he was thanking an audience after stealing their whole night.

0.3 seconds remained, just enough time for despair.

The Lakers had no timeouts.

They inbounded from the backcourt, and Old Fish caught and flung up a desperate toss.

It missed.

And even if it had gone in, it would have been too late. 0.3 seconds is not enough for a normal shot.

Chen Yan had done it again.

He did not just beat the Lakers, he silenced Staples Center, and he walked off like the villain who stole the ending.

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