NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 467: Chapter 467: A Rough Start, a Storm of Fakes

Chapter 467: A Rough Start, a Storm of Fakes

On TNT, Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith were ready.

Barkley was in rare form. He showed up in a suit with a black round cap that made him look like a landlord out of an old movie. He did not think it was funny at all. He thought he looked authentic.

Kenny Smith refused to play along, dressed in a clean black suit. Sitting side by side, they looked like they belonged in 2 different eras.

Soon, the starting lineups popped onto the screen.

Phoenix Suns starters: Steve Nash, Chen Yan, Grant Hill, Boris Diaw, Amar’e Stoudemire.

With McGrady out, there was no need to start Raja Bell. Guarding Aaron Brooks or Shane Battier was not the best use of him. D’Antoni chose Grant Hill for more offense and more flexibility, giving Phoenix even more ways to attack.

Houston Rockets starters: Aaron Brooks, Von Wafer, Shane Battier, Luis Scola, Yao Ming.

On paper, it was not close. Phoenix had 3 All Stars, plus Grant Hill, a former All Star himself. Houston, with McGrady sidelined, had only Yao Ming as a true star.

Still, the Rockets did not treat it like a scheduled loss. Before tip off, Yao pulled his teammates together and spoke to them, calm and steady. After 7 seasons in the league, his leadership had become more natural, more convincing.

The Rockets looked confident, especially the young guards. Brooks and Wafer carried that fearless edge young players always have. A newborn calf does not fear the tiger, it just charges.

The ball went up.

Yao won the tip over Stoudemire.

Stoudemire had been a little careless. Yao’s recent weight loss made his first step and his lift noticeably quicker than before.

Houston got the first possession.

Brooks pushed the ball over half court, quick and low. Nash did not crowd him, he knew Brooks’ speed was real, and overcommitting would only get him burned.

Once across the line, Brooks slowed down and waited for Yao to arrive.

Instead of sealing deep in the paint, Yao stepped up and set a screen.

Brooks crossed left off the pick. He was fast, but his dribble was not pretty, his legs were a little bow shaped, and his crossover had more function than style.

Nash tried to fight through and ran straight into Yao.

Even lighter, Yao’s frame was still a wall. Nash hitting him felt like a compact car slamming into a concrete barrier.

Stoudemire switched in time and cut off the lane. That mattered. Without the straight line, Brooks could not unleash his full burst.

Brooks spun and flipped the ball back to Yao.

Yao caught it at the high post, between the 3 point line and the free throw line.

In previous seasons, that was a little far for him, not his comfort zone. This year, he had deliberately expanded his range, in games, in practice, in every rep.

He lifted the ball, paused for a beat, then rose into a high post jumper.

Swish.

0 to 2.

Nash barely even raised a hand. What could he do about that release point?

”Great start, Yao Ming scores the first bucket,” Zhang Heli shouted.

”He saw the mismatch and took it immediately,” Yu Jia added. ”He’s been shooting that mid range jumper with confidence all season.”

Phoenix came back.

Nash brought it up with Brooks glued to him.

Soon, Brooks was about to learn the difference between a 2 time MVP and a young guard running on adrenaline.

Brooks pressed high, almost chest to chest. Against most point guards, that would be disruptive. Against Nash, it was an invitation.

Nash leaned into him near the top of the arc and stepped inside like he wanted to drive. Brooks prepared to slide. Then Nash snapped the ball behind his back into his left hand. ℴ

Brooks jumped sideways to recover.

The moment his weight shifted, Nash hit a low change of direction and slipped away with a short burst.

No wasted motion, no panic. Nash showed him the lesson old guards live by. You do not always need more speed, you need better rhythm.

Nash got into the lane and Houston collapsed, forming a quick double.

That was exactly what Phoenix wanted.

Before the trap fully formed, Nash fired a moving behind the back pass to Chen Yan on the wing.

It was flashy, but it was also clean.

Battier rotated hard, closing out the moment the ball touched Chen Yan’s hands.

Chen Yan lifted the ball like he was going to shoot. Battier did not bite.

Then Chen Yan jabbed.

That one got him.

Chen Yan gathered, jabbed left, kept his right foot planted, then crossed his left foot over and exploded to the right off a crossover step. The ball stayed tight to his body, and the angle was sharp.

Battier lost his balance for half a heartbeat, and half a heartbeat was all Chen Yan needed.

Houston scrambled again. The group that had just doubled Nash now shifted to double Chen.

Chen Yan took 1 step outside the restricted area, twisted his body in mid stride, and kicked the ball out to the perimeter.

Another drive and kick.

The Rockets’ defense was completely stretched. Grant Hill caught it wide open and rose for 3.

Clang.

On the bench, Suns players threw up 3 fingers anyway, but Hill’s shot rimmed out.

Yao jumped and secured the rebound.

For a second, he held the ball and glanced at Brooks, then flicked his eyes toward Chen Yan on the other side.

Chen Yan was waiting, hovering, hunting for a steal that would turn into a fast break.

Yao paused for an extra beat, then, once he was sure, tossed it to Brooks.

Chen Yan grinned as he jogged back and gave Yao a playful pat on the backside. Yao laughed and patted him back.

Next possession, Brooks crossed half court and, on cue, bounced it into Yao.

Yao caught, spun baseline, and Stoudemire tried to chase.

Yao spun again, gathered, turned back the other way, then faded into a smooth jumper.

0 to 4.

”Beautiful,” Yu Jia shouted. ”Yao Ming is feeling it, 2 for 2 to open.”

”Losing weight might reduce some of his raw low post power,” Zhang Heli said with a laugh, ”but his agility looks better. That last move was clean.”

Those early touches were not random. Rick Adelman had drawn it up. With McGrady out, Yao needed to replace that scoring. And while Adelman had turned him into more of a facilitating center this season, in the style of Divac or Brad Miller, Yao still had something those guys did not.

When the team needed points, he could still flip the switch and attack.

”Amare, you have to front him,” Chen Yan told Stoudemire as they ran back. ”You’re letting him catch it too comfortably.”

Chen Yan knew Yao’s rhythm. If Yao demanded the ball on the block while he was fresh and got a clean 1 on 1, it was almost impossible to stop him.

If a game only lasted 1 quarter, Yao Ming would be in the top tier of superstars.

Phoenix went back to work.

Their half court offense always came down to 2 engines, Nash and Stoudemire in pick and roll, or Chen Yan in isolation.

Nash called for the screen and drove. Houston stayed tight, so Nash circled under the rim and kicked it out to Diaw.

Diaw shifted right, then swung it to Chen Yan.

Battier read the pass early and got a fingertip on it, knocking it loose.

Brooks scooped it up and took off. Chen Yan tried to chase, but Battier slid into his path and slowed him just enough that he could not fully accelerate.

That was Battier. He did not need elite athleticism or cheap tricks. He lived on timing, angles, and intelligence, and that was why he became one of the best defenders in the league.

Brooks finished the break with a layup.

0 to 6.

In pure sprinting speed with the ball, Brooks was right there with a lighter version of Iverson.

And he was only in his second year.

Houston believed in him so much they had already moved to clear his path, shipping Rafer Alston away midseason. The Rockets had decided Brooks was the future at point guard, and they were removing every obstacle as fast as they could.

On TNT, Barkley leaned into the moment.

”The Rockets came out swinging,” he said. ”6 straight, Suns look like they’re still waking up.”

Kenny nodded. ”And Chen hasn’t taken a shot yet. Sometimes you just need your star to settle everybody down.”

Nash thought the same.

As soon as he crossed half court, he waved everyone away and tossed the ball to Chen Yan.

Clear out.

Chen Yan faced Battier at the top, rocking into his triple threat, testing him. Battier stayed solid, no reaching, no drifting, no free angles.

But Chen Yan understood something fans often forgot.

Even the best defender can only react. The ball handler holds the initiative.

Chen Yan attacked right, then snapped a hard jab, then stepped back beyond the 3 point line.

To most eyes, it looked like a simple step back creating space.

In reality, the moment Chen Yan put the ball down, he had already layered fakes on top of fakes.

A look fake.

A shoulder fake.

A hand fake.

A subtle change in footwork that disguised the release.

All of it, stacked into 1 burst, then the step back created the final gap.

People talked about Chen Yan’s athleticism and speed so much that they missed how refined he actually was.

Chen rose.

Swish.

The Suns finally got on the board, and just like that, the game had its first real spark.

.....

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