Chapter 206: McGrady Steals the Show and Cripples Morey with One Elbow!
The Suns had started hot, raining threes on Houston, but the Rockets weren't about to fold. Coming out of the timeout, Tracy McGrady caught fire immediately.
First, he blew past Raja Bell for a smooth drive and drew the foul—count it and one. The crowd came alive. Then he hit back-to-back pull-up threes from the top of the arc.
"Vintage T-Mac!" Kevin Harlan shouted from the booth. "The Rockets are right back in it!"
Just like that, Houston cut the deficit to 9–6.
Reggie Miller laughed beside him. "You can tell he's been saving this energy since the break. McGrady's got that old swagger again."
Stoudemire tried to answer for Phoenix. He faced up Yao Ming from the mid-post, jabbed twice, and powered right. His first step was explosive, but the finish rolled off the rim.
"Ah, he smoked the layup!" Miller said.
Stoudemire clapped his hands in frustration as Yao crossed half court. Before he could even reach the paint, McGrady pulled up again from deep.
"No, no—" Yao started to yell, but the shot was already in the air.
"Swish!"
Toyota Center erupted.
Yao threw up his hands, grinning. "Don't stop, Tracy! Keep going!"
The two high-fived as McGrady flashed that familiar confident smile. Nine straight points. The Rockets were back, 9–9.
Now D'Antoni was the one pacing nervously on the sideline. Phoenix needed to regain control before Houston's momentum took over.
Nash dribbled up and ran a perfect high screen with Stoudemire. Instead of feeding the roll or taking the shot himself, he flicked a lightning-fast pass to Chen Yan on the right wing.
Chen had slipped free thanks to a Diaw screen. The ball hit his hands like a magnet catching steel. He rose, smooth and balanced, toes just outside the line.
"Pull-up three from Chen Yan!" Harlan called.
"Bottom of the net!"
The ball ripped through cleanly—an immediate answer to McGrady's run.
Chen and McGrady locked eyes on the way back. Neither smiled. The crowd could sense it: the duel was on.
The Rockets gave it right back to McGrady. He waved for a clear-out, took the handoff from Alston, and stared down Stoudemire after a switch. The matchup looked unfair, but T-Mac was in the zone.
He faked right, stepped left, and rose into a jumper. Stoudemire's hand was there, but it didn't matter.
Swish.
"Are you kidding me?" Miller shouted. "He's turning back the clock!"
12–11.
Every fan watching at home was losing their minds. Chen Yan and Yao Ming might have been the headline, but tonight, McGrady was stealing the spotlight.
Phoenix inbounded quickly. Nash pushed it up, no fast-break opportunity, so he reset. He swung it to Raja Bell on the wing. Bell signaled Chen Yan over. They executed a clean hand-off.
As Chen caught the ball, Bell set a sturdy screen on Battier, freeing Chen from the relentless defense. McGrady switched over instantly.
Chen didn't drive. He sidestepped twice, gave a pump fake, and sent McGrady flying.
"Got him!" Harlan yelled.
As McGrady hung in mid-air, Chen gently leaned in, drew the contact, and launched his mid-range jumper.
"Beep!"
Whistle.
Contact.
And then—
"Swish!"
The arena gasped. And-one.
"That's an answer from Chen Yan!" Miller shouted. "You hit me with a three, I'll hit you with a bucket and a foul!"
Chen flexed slightly before walking to the line. McGrady, landing awkwardly, smirked and shook his head. "We only played a few video games together, man. No need to hug me mid-air."
The crowd laughed as Chen sank the free throw.
Three minutes in, both stars were lighting up the court. Fans were already on their feet, waving signs and phones.
The game rolled into halftime tied at 51-51.
"Man, that first half had everything," Harlan said. "Suns came out hot, Rockets fought back, and McGrady—what a show."
Miller nodded. "He's got 25 at the break. That's the McGrady we used to fear. And Chen Yan? Nineteen points, six boards, six assists—pure efficiency."
Yao had only eight points, limited by Phoenix's double-teams, but his screens and defense kept Houston's spacing alive.
When the third quarter started, the intensity didn't drop. Both teams traded blows until, with 3:02 left in the quarter, chaos struck.
Phoenix had possession. Diaw tried a baseline pass but misjudged the angle—completely out of bounds.
Chen Yan sprinted toward the sideline, trying to save it. The crowd leaned forward.
He jumped—too late to reach the ball. But his flight path carried him toward the front row, right where Rockets GM Daryl Morey sat, eyes wide behind his glasses.
"Oh no," Miller said, half-laughing. "Incoming!"
Instead of trying to tap the ball, Chen instinctively tucked his arm to brace for impact. His elbow caught Morey square in the chest with a solid thud.
Time froze.
Morey collapsed backward into his seat, knocking over popcorn, water, and two nearby fans.
The arena gasped. Then chaos erupted.
"Oh my god!" Harlan shouted. "Chen Yan just… just took out Daryl Morey with an elbow!"
Chen popped up immediately, acting confused. "What happened? Somebody call medical!"
He knelt down, pretending to perform CPR—but his hand placement was completely off, pressing near Morey's ribs.
Reggie Miller nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "He's making it worse! That's not where you do CPR, Chen!"
The Rockets' medical staff sprinted over, trying not to laugh while assessing their GM, who looked dazed but breathing. Two assistants lifted Morey onto a stretcher as fans snapped photos and cheered nervously.
As they wheeled him off, the jumbotron cut to a close-up. Morey's eyes were half-open, expression oddly peaceful—like a man who had finally accepted fate.
Chen stood on the baseline, hands raised. "I swear, I was saving the ball!"
The crowd burst into laughter. Even Yao Ming covered his face, shaking his head.
When play resumed, Miller wiped tears from his eyes. "You can't write this stuff, Kevin. This is NBA theater at its finest."
Harlan chuckled. "Tracy McGrady lighting it up on one end, and Chen Yan accidentally knocking out a general manager on the other. You get everything in this league."
As the quarter wound down, both teams regrouped. The Rockets fed off McGrady's energy, but Phoenix stayed composed behind Chen and Nash's chemistry.
Still, the moment of the night belonged to that accidental elbow—a collision that would be replayed on highlight reels for weeks.
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