NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 354: Chapter 354: Victory in G1!

Chapter 354: Victory in G1!

The officials rushed in before the moment could grow teeth.

LeBron and Barnes were separated quickly, arms between chests, voices lowered. LeBron did not keep pushing it. He took a breath, reeled his emotions back in, and walked over to retrieve his headband.

He understood the situation. This was Phoenix. Nothing good was going to come from a prolonged argument in this building.

And the Finals, he realized, were going to be a lot nastier than he had pictured.

Mike Brown’s idea was simple, let LeBron run with the second unit and cut into the lead while Phoenix rested its starters. In theory, it was the cleanest way to claw back into the game.

In practice, it went nowhere.

LeBron’s downhill pressure was real, but the Suns’ bench was hitting shots like the rim owed them money. Three and a half minutes into the 2nd quarter, the margin was still sitting in double digits.

After the next dead ball, Phoenix sent the starters back in.

On Cleveland’s side, LeBron stayed on the floor. Brown knew what his team was without him, and he was not brave enough to find out for long. During the regular season, LeBron averaged 40.4 minutes, the 3rd most in the league. In the playoffs it climbed to 42.5. Cleveland fans did not even call Brown a coach sometimes, they called him LeBron’s babysitter.

The reliance was obvious.

If LeBron could not erase the gap against Phoenix’s second unit, doing it against the starters was going to feel like trying to mop up the ocean.

But Brown did have a rare moment of clarity.

He pulled Big Z and went with Anderson Varejao, taking away the most painful part of Cleveland’s defense, the endless switching that left Shaq stranded in space.

The pressure eased. Shaq’s life got easier too, and he finally found rhythm. In the 2nd quarter he went 4 for 6 from the field and added his free throws for 9 points, efficient and forceful.

It still did not matter much.

Phoenix was rolling as a group, and at halftime the Suns led 61 to 47.

...

The 2nd half opened with a new look for both teams.

Phoenix came out with Nash, Chen Yan, Grant Hill, Boris Diaw, and Amar’e Stoudemire.

Cleveland answered with Daniel Gibson, Larry Hughes, LeBron James, Varejao, and Big Z Ilgauskas.

Mike Breen set the table. ”Cleveland trying to find the combination that keeps them stable. Phoenix staying aggressive.”

Mark Jackson leaned in. ”This is Phoenix’s strongest offensive group. They want to break it open in the 3rd.”

Jeff Van Gundy nodded. ”And you can see it from Cleveland too. Shaq gave them a lift, but at 36, stamina is the fight he never wins.”

Shaq’s average minutes that season sat at 28, a career low. Every step for a body that size came with a bill.

On the first possession of the half, LeBron rose for a jumper at the high post.

Clang.

Miss.

Varejao battled for the offensive rebound and kicked it back to LeBron. One dribble sideways, another pull up.

Swish.

49 to 62.

Early career LeBron could live in that mid range. In that era, before the league fully embraced pace and spacing, a lot of perimeter stars still treated the mid range like home.

Phoenix, as usual, disagreed with the league’s traditions.

On the very next trip, Chen Yan answered with a 3 without hesitation.

Swish.

Cleveland came back. LeBron used a double screen, got downhill, absorbed contact, and earned 2 free throws. The intent was clear now. He was turning the game into a personal assault on the paint.

He hit 1 of 2.

Phoenix pushed immediately.

Nash advanced, eyes up, and found Chen Yan in stride. Chen Yan took 2 steps, then whipped a behind the back pass to the trailing Stoudemire, threading it over Varejao.

Stoudemire detonated at the rim.

The building erupted. That was classic Suns basketball, speed, angles, and a finish that sounded like a door being slammed.

Cleveland tried to answer again.

LeBron drove hard, met 3 defenders, lost his balance near the baseline, and hit the floor. He threw his hands up, asking for a whistle.

He did not get it.

The referees swallowed it, and in this arena, that was not a surprise.

Phoenix ran.

Chen Yan slipped past Hughes, flashed to the basket, and dropped in a soft overhand layup before the defense could set its feet.

Cleveland went to Big Z inside.

LeBron had attacked on 3 straight possessions, so the Cavaliers needed someone else to produce. Ilgauskas had skill for a traditional center and could hit from mid range, but his biggest weapon was still his 221 cm frame.

He backed down Stoudemire, turned, and tried to finish over the top.

He did not create enough separation.

And the second his base wobbled, Chen Yan pounced.

From the blind side, Chen Yan exploded into the play.

Bang.

A vicious pin at the rim, no mercy.

And the best part, he did not just block it, he controlled it. Right hand on the ball, left hand scooping it in mid air, securing possession before he even landed.

The moment his shoes touched the floor, Chen Yan was gone.

A solo break.

LeBron sprinted back, but Phoenix’s pace was faster than panic. In a blink, Chen Yan, Nash, and Grant Hill were over half court.

3 on 1.

LeBron locked on to Chen Yan, the ball handler.

Chen Yan saw it immediately. He tossed the ball to Nash, then cut hard off ball, bursting past LeBron’s hip like a receiver shaking a corner.

Nash hit him with a perfect bounce pass in stride. A clean give and go, soccer style, and LeBron had to concede because there was nothing to guard anymore.

Chen Yan reached the paint, glanced back, and floated the ball high off the glass.

Grant Hill rose behind him and hammered it home.

Boom.

A backboard alley oop, and Hill landed smiling like he had just stolen a few years back from time.

Mike Breen’s voice jumped. ”Off the backboard, and Hill finishes. Phoenix is putting on a show.”

Van Gundy groaned. ”This is what happens when you turn it over against the Suns. You are not just giving up points, you are giving up momentum, and dignity.”

On the way back, Chen Yan glanced at Big Z, who looked deflated, then turned upcourt with the same calm expression he always wore.

Cleveland was working, but the gap kept growing.

They could not shoot well from outside, and they did not have a second true engine. LeBron’s athleticism and vision were historic, but his jumper and long range game were still developing. A steady diet of power drives could not guarantee points in every half court possession, especially against a defense keyed entirely on stopping the paint.

Cleveland’s offense came in short bursts.

Phoenix answered with waves.

Early in the 4th, the lead stretched past 25.

The Suns did not ease up. This was a series. They were not trying to win 1 game, they were trying to break Cleveland’s confidence.

With 7:07 left, Chen Yan buried his signature logo shot, and the margin finally blew past 30.

That was the dagger with a receipt.

At the next dead ball, Mike D’Antoni pulled his starters. A minute later, LeBron signaled for a sub as well, and the game slid into garbage time.

LeBron was not wired like Kobe, the kind of player who would fight the clock itself even in a lost game. LeBron’s mind was more practical. If the game was gone, he would live to fight the next one.

The buzzer sounded soon after.

118 to 93.

Phoenix took Game 1 of the NBA Finals by 25.

The Suns formed a line of high fives, faces bright, but not giddy. This was not a celebration like a miracle had happened.

It was the quiet satisfaction of a team that believed this was exactly how it was supposed to go.

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