NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 358: Chapter 358: Is It Too Much to Ask for Finals MVP?

Chapter 358: Is It Too Much to Ask for Finals MVP?

With that win, Phoenix walked out of Game 2 with a 2 to 0 lead.

Even the box score told the story of two teams living in different eras.

Cleveland went 5 for 16 from 3, a 31.2% clip.

Phoenix took more than double the volume, 34 attempts, and buried 14, good for 41.1%.

And then there was Chen Yan.

He finished 21 for 26 from the field, 6 for 8 from 3, 5 for 6 at the line, for 53 points, 5 rebounds, 3 assists, and 2 steals.

Up in the booth, the reaction was immediate.

”53 points,” Jeff Van Gundy said, sounding like he had to say it twice just to believe it.

Mike Breen followed with the call that was half stat, half disbelief. ”That is a massive number on this stage.”

Mark Jackson chuckled. ”That’s beyond finishing. That’s turning the kitchen into a crime scene.”

...

Postgame in Cleveland’s media room, Mike Brown got hit with the same question from every angle.

”Coach, why stay in single coverage on Chen tonight?”

”Was the 50 point explosion part of the plan?”

”Do you regret not doubling him?”

”What do you change when you go home?”

Brown adjusted his glasses, stared at the sea of microphones, and tried to survive with humor.

”We have to stop talking about Chen,” he said. ”Because I could write a book about how good Chen is.”

It earned a few laughs, but it did not erase the truth. His team had no answer.

...

Across the hall, Phoenix’s room was lighter.

A reporter looked at Nash and went straight at the obvious.

”Steve, we saw you get across half court and immediately give Chen the ball over and over. That’s not always your style. Why tonight?”

Nash smiled like a man who had watched the same shot go in 21 times.

”Chen’s hand was hot enough to fry pancakes tonight,” he said. ”He made the game simple. My job was just to get him the ball safely.”

Nash’s Game 1 numbers had people whispering about Finals MVP. But in Game 2, he gave up shots without hesitation, taking 10 and making 6. He was not chasing a trophy. He was chasing the trophy.

Beside him, Mike D’Antoni leaned back, calm, almost smug.

”Unstoppable,” he said, ”but I’m not surprised. I’ve seen him do things like this before.”

When Chen Yan was asked what it felt like to score 53 on the Finals stage, he answered like he was describing the weather.

”They played single coverage,” he said. ”So I played one on one. I kept making shots. It felt natural.”

To him, it was just the truth. To the reporters, it sounded like swagger in its purest form.

Another question followed.

”Chen, you’re up 2 to 0. Do you feel like the series has tilted your way?”

Chen Yan shook his head, then took a moment to complain about the Finals schedule.

”We won 2 straight, but it doesn’t feel like a huge advantage,” he said. ”The next 3 games are all at their place.”

He was not the first star to hate the 2 3 2 format. Plenty of coaches and analysts had argued it punished the team with the better record if the series got tied. Game 5, the swing game, often ended up on the road.

But Chen Yan’s complaint was more casual than fearful. Format or no format, Phoenix had no intention of letting Cleveland breathe.

...

June 11.

Game 3.

Quicken Loans Arena.

The building felt different before the doors even opened. Outside the arena, the plaza had a giant Larry O’Brien Trophy display that was not usually there, a quiet message that was not quiet at all.

This city had been starving for a title for 44 years. And every person wearing wine and gold wanted the same thing, for LeBron to finally break the curse.

Before tip off, LeBron walked to the scorer’s table and went through the ritual.

The chalk toss.

The crowd erupted like it was already a comeback.

Down 0 to 2 or not, they still believed in their star.

...

The game began.

Phoenix starters: Steve Nash, Chen Yan, Raja Bell, Boris Diaw, Amar’e Stoudemire.

Cleveland starters: Daniel Gibson, Larry Hughes, LeBron James, Anderson Varejão, Shaquille O’Neal.

Stoudemire won the tip, giving Phoenix the first possession.

And the arena immediately went to work.

”Defense!”

”Defense!”

”Defense!”

Thousands of towels waved in unison, a storm designed to make the floor feel smaller, the rim feel tighter, and every dribble sound louder than it should.

Phoenix did not push. They settled into half court, swung the ball around the perimeter, and eventually fed Stoudemire on the baseline.

He faced Shaq, jabbed, then drove along the line, trying to use speed and mobility.

But O’Neal was not guessing. He slid early and cut off the angle with veteran timing.

Stoudemire tried to lean in and move him with strength.

It was a bad idea.

He bounced off.

Off balance, he tried to recover with a pass, and it turned into a giveaway straight to Gibson.

Quicken Loans Arena exploded.

From the ABC booth, Mike Breen could barely hear himself.

”Listen to this crowd. Cleveland has been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

Mark Jackson nodded. ”Road games in the Finals hit different. You feel every mistake.”

Jeff Van Gundy added, dry as ever. ”And the home crowd is happy to remind you of it, repeatedly.”

Cleveland came down and found LeBron.

He used a screen, slid 2 steps laterally, and as Phoenix switched, he rose from the left wing and took the midrange jumper without hesitation.

Swish.

0 to 2.

The noise spiked again, loud enough that D’Antoni had the brief impulse to burn a timeout. He held it. It had not even been a minute.

Phoenix answered by putting the ball in the hands that had set the Finals on fire.

Half court. Clear side.

Chen Yan.

He dribbled with his right, slowing the pace like he was turning a dial. Stoudemire walked up to set a high screen.

And just as the screen formed, Chen Yan snapped into a change of direction and attacked the opposite side.

Larry Hughes had already started to go around the pick.

He got fooled completely.

Chen Yan drove into the paint with the ball in his left hand. Varejão came flying over, hair bouncing, arms straight up, trying to protect the rim.

Chen Yan did not flinch.

He rose straight up, elevator quick, like gravity had signed a one possession contract in his favor.

Boom.

A violent poster dunk, right in Varejão’s face.

For a split second, the arena went silent from shock.

Then it turned into noise again, louder, angrier, more frantic.

Chen Yan landed and stared ahead with a simple message in his posture.

Tonight, he came to attack.

After 53 points in Game 2, the headlines had already started. Rookie. Finals. Finals MVP talk. Magic Johnson comparisons.

Chen Yan had seen all of it.

And no matter how calm he acted at the podium, he was still a competitor. A rookie or not, it was impossible not to feel the pull of that award.

Magic had done it.

Chen Yan believed he could chase it too.

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