NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 422: Chapter 422: Chen Yan’s Sleep Aiding Fist, Paul’s Sleep Point

Chapter 422: Chen Yan’s Sleep Aiding Fist, Paul’s Sleep Point

The Hornets had the ball.

After Chris Paul crossed half court, he waved everyone out and demanded space. He had just been humiliated at the rim, and the grudge was still burning in his chest. If he could not get the points back, then at least he wanted his pride back.

He strung together a few sharp crossovers, then drove hard to Nash’s left. Near the free throw line, Paul dipped his shoulder, bumped Nash off balance, and stepped back into a high post jumper.

Bucket.

The possession highlighted Nash’s biggest weakness. Some guards are bad defenders because they do not care. Nash was a defensive target because his body simply could not hold up. Across 30 teams, his physical tools ranked near the bottom for starting point guards.

And yet, he had become the first point guard since Magic Johnson to win back to back regular season MVPs. That alone explained how terrifying his offense and playmaking were.

...

Phoenix answered with their usual rhythm.

Nash brought it up, stopped at the top, and swung it to Raja Bell on the wing. Bell moved it again, searching for Diaw. Nothing opened immediately, but the Suns did not panic. As long as the ball kept moving, their offense stayed alive.

Diaw surveyed for a beat, twisted his torso, and fired a pass to Chen Yan in the deep corner near the baseline.

Chen Yan used Stoudemire’s screen to shake free. New Orleans was a step late on the switch, and the jumper was uncontested.

Swish.

The moment the ball dropped, Paul snatched it and pushed up the floor like he was late for something.

At the left side 45 degree angle beyond the arc, Paul and Tyson Chandler ran pick and roll. Nash never saw Chandler’s angle, and the screen knocked him off his line.

It was a borderline illegal screen, but there was no whistle. Home court came with small favors.

Paul slid sideways, found daylight at the top, and rose for a 3.

Good again.

5 points in 2 possessions, and you could feel his engine revving.

...

Chen Yan stepped forward immediately, ready to answer.

He cut hard, set a quick off ball screen for himself, and flashed inside. Nash recognized the mismatch and lofted a pass into the lane.

Chen Yan caught with his back to the basket and leaned into Paul, posting him up with pure force.

Paul responded the way he often did when size was not on his side. He threw in little knees, grabbed at the waist, and kept working small angles that made contact feel constant.

His listed height was 183 cm, and everyone knew those measurements ran generous. Chen Yan was a solid 198 cm. Height was Paul’s biggest limitation, and he tried to make up for it with physical tricks.

Only this time, it backfired.

The more Paul tried to irritate him, the more stubborn Chen Yan became. He absorbed the bumps, turned hard, backed into Paul, and finished through contact.

And 1.

Barkley nearly shouted. ”The stars are going right at each other, and that mismatch is still a problem. Chris is giving up too much size.”

Kenny leaned forward. ”Let’s see how Paul answers. He’s not built to back down.”

Chen Yan missed the free throw.

The Hornets ran. Paul pulled up for a mid range jumper in motion, but Chen Yan flew in from the side and got a clean contest.

Miss.

Paul could score, but his sustained firepower was not in the same universe as Chen Yan’s. In a pure scoring duel, he was swimming upstream.

Raja Bell grabbed the rebound, took 1 dribble, and found Chen Yan, the closest outlet.

Chen Yan brought it right at Paul again, the intention obvious.

Paul did not gamble for a steal. If he lost position, Chen Yan would have enough room to build a house, rent it out, and still get a clean look.

Paul kept retreating.

From beyond the 3 point line, Chen Yan rose straight up and shot over him.

It was a ridiculous shot in any normal context. But Paul was backpedaling, unable to load into a full jump, and the athletic gap did the rest.

Splash.

Chen Yan’s strategy was brutally simple when Paul was on him.

Shoot over him.

Or post him, then shoot over him.

Either way, it was bullying with height.

Chen Yan looked at Paul and let the words fly. ”Come on. Guard me once.”

Payback, with interest.

The scoring and the trash talk started to dig under Paul’s skin. He had a short fuse, and he usually lit it himself. Over the next few possessions, he hunted chances to retaliate.

He was not Westbrook, though. His brain did not shut off. He kept running the offense, kept organizing, kept connecting plays.

But he never forgot.

...

Midway through the 3rd quarter, Paul finally found an opening.

He pushed the ball up from the backcourt, glanced over his shoulder at Chen Yan sprinting back, then suddenly stopped, braked, and stuck out his backside in one smooth motion.

A pure flop attempt.

He wanted to trick Chen Yan, and maybe steal a foul on top of it.

Chen Yan had no reason to expect something that shameless. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late to brake cleanly.

He saw the target in front of him and made a decision in a heartbeat.

Can’t stop?

Then don’t.

Chen Yan accelerated into Paul’s back like a truck hitting a speed bump.

Paul flew about 1 meter forward and crashed to the floor in an awkward heap. Chen Yan lost his balance too and went down.

Whistle.

By the book, you could argue Chen Yan fouled him. Instead, the referee called an offensive foul on Paul, likely judging that the sudden stop and the exaggerated body angle were intentional.

But neither star cared about the whistle anymore.

They got up and went nose to nose, trading ”friendly” words that definitely did not belong in a children’s program. Fingers pointed. Families were mentioned. The temperature spiked instantly.

Paul’s right fist clenched.

Then he threw the first punch.

It came fast and tight, a straight shot that arrived like a sudden gust.

Chen Yan could not dodge at that distance. Instinct took over.

He raised his left hand and blocked, then answered with a right hook to Paul’s jaw.

He held back in power, he was not looking to be that guy, but the placement was surgical. Paul’s eyes went unfocused immediately.

He stumbled back 2 steps and dropped, like he had just taken 2 pounds of fake liquor to the face.

Players began rushing in, and then just as quickly, the moment was over.

Paul was down, and the Hornets did not charge forward. West and Peja were not built for brawls. Butler was a role player who had no interest in fines and suspensions. Chandler had ”Tyson” in his name, but nobody on that floor wanted to test whether Chen Yan could back up the joke.

The team doctor sprinted to Paul, checked his eyes, and confirmed he was stunned.

About 30 seconds later, Paul came to, dazed and blinking. He had blacked out and did not even remember what happened. The doctor could not risk anything with his head, so the staff called for help and carried him flat into the tunnel.

Even without the stretcher, Paul was done. The moment he swung first, ejection was guaranteed.

Chen Yan was done too. Even though he reacted second, there was no universe where the officials let him stay on the court.

...

After the game, the clips spread like wildfire.

Fans all over the country argued about it for days.

”Are you sure Chen Yan isn’t violent? That’s the 2nd time he’s dropped somebody on the court.”

”Violent? That was self defense.”

”This might be the most regrettable decision Chris ever made on a basketball court.”

”All I’m saying is the amateur ran into the professional.”

”He threw first and still ended up on the floor. That’s rough.”

”Chen Yan’s sleep inducing punch, Paul’s sleep point.”

”1st half basketball, 2nd half boxing. You can’t buy a better ticket than that.”

.....

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