Chapter 324: Elbows with Kobe, Stealing Home Court
After 3 quarters, the visiting Phoenix Suns led 78 to 72. A 6 point cushion, heading into the final 12 minutes.
D Antoni tossed the clipboard onto a chair and went straight to the heart of it.
"Hold on. Bite down and push through. This quarter is everything. Get through these 12 minutes and we steal home court from them, right in their building."
He knew the truth about playoff basketball, especially in the Western Conference Finals. Late game possessions were not just sets and counters. They were nerve, lungs, and will.
He singled out Chen Yan, because 44 points was the reason Phoenix had air to breathe. Then he immediately pulled it back to the group, hammering the same message over and over. Stay together. Keep the rhythm. Keep sharing the floor. No hero ball without the team.
On the Lakers side, Phil Jackson gave a quick tactical outline. Then Garnett stepped up and took over the room.
"Who are we?" Garnett barked, voice rising. "We're the Los Angeles Lakers, and this is our house. Don't give them anything. Hit them once, hit them again, take the lead, take the game."
He finished by pounding his chest 3 times, because of course he did.
The Lakers' energy spiked. Garnett was an expert at lighting a fire, even Kobe admitted that.
…
The 4th quarter opened with both teams feeling each other out.
Stoudemire missed a jumper from the left wing at the 45.
Garnett answered with a miss of his own.
After a pick and roll, Garnett drifted out, caught Kobe's pass, and rose for a high post jumper.
Clang.
Even now, the Wolf King's touch still would not warm up.
Diaw climbed for the defensive rebound.
Bang.
In the scrum, Kobe found space and drove an elbow into Chen Yan's chest.
Kobe's iron elbow might arrive late, but it never misses the appointment.
The referee was right there and stared straight through it.
Star privilege.
Chen Yan understood exactly what this meant. His 4th quarter was always going to be harder than the first 3, and Kobe was doing what he did in Game 1, taking the matchup personally.
Kobe was elite on both ends. His 1 on 1 defense was suffocating, and he knew the whistle would not swing against him easily in this quarter. He used that knowledge like a weapon.
But Chen Yan had already prepared for it. After Game 1, he had thought about it, replayed it, and decided how he would answer.
As they ran back in transition, Kobe kept talking.
"Kid, if you can't handle it, go sit down. It's safer on the bench."
Kobe's elbows worked, and so did his mouth. That was the real NBA. The body and the mind, both under attack, all for 1 thing.
Winning.
Chen Yan snapped back without blinking.
"That's all you got? Hit me harder."
Then he started moving without the ball.
Kobe stayed attached. Year 12, he had seen every type of guard, every type of trick. He knew what Chen Yan wanted and refused to let him breathe.
Chen Yan cut baseline, reversed, tried to shake him.
Kobe stayed.
Chen Yan slammed on the brakes, lifted his elbow, and whipped it backward.
Only magic beats magic. Only an elbow stops an elbow.
It landed clean, right into Kobe's kidney.
F**K.
For a split second, the pain flashed so hard it felt like his molars could crack.
Kobe still did not stop defending. He clutched his waist and kept pace.
When it came to swallowing pain, the Black Mamba lived in a different world.
Chen Yan slipped open, just for a beat.
Nash hit him immediately. Old school point guard instincts, create first, score second.
Catch.
Turn.
Rise.
Kobe jumped with his left hand extended, a small detail that mattered. Chen Yan's dominant hand was his right, so Kobe's left hand gave him the best angle to bother the release.
Chen Yan went higher anyway, with a slight fade.
The ball slid past Kobe's fingertips.
Swish.
Clean.
Chen Yan turned, voice sharp.
"Let me show you what a young man's intensity looks like."
Kobe answered just as fast.
"Good. Let's see who's tougher."
For the next few minutes, it stayed brutal. Their respect showed up as contact, elbows, and constant pressure on both ends. The more they tangled, the faster their stamina drained.
The proof was in the sound. Missed shots started echoing through Staples, again and again.
As the quarter moved into the late stage, both teams slowed down.
This was high level basketball. When both sides hit maximum intensity, even 1 point felt expensive.
1:24 on the clock.
95 to 87.
Phoenix still up 8.
Kobe had 45 points, more than half of the Lakers' total. But everyone else was struggling. Garnett, the other star, had only 17. Not enough firepower.
Lakers possession.
Kobe called for the ball as soon as he crossed half court. No screen, no hesitation. Everyone in the building knew what time it was.
Raja Bell guarded him.
Kobe dribbled low, crossed a few times, then suddenly pulled up from 3.
Bell contested, but he was half a step late.
Swish.
95 to 90.
Kobe did not celebrate. He ran back like it was routine, expression cold, calm as venom.
…
Phoenix possession, 1:10 left, up 5.
Nash walked it over, controlling the tempo.
"Defense! Defense!"
Garnett anchored the paint, barking coverages.
This possession could decide the game.
Chen Yan tried to cut out for the ball. Kobe half fronted him, basically hanging on him, refusing to let him touch it.
Nash did not force it. In this moment, safe passes mattered more than stubborn ones.
Nash waved Stoudemire up.
Pick and roll.
Nash bounced it inside.
Stoudemire caught on the move and attacked the rim.
Garnett jumped with him.
For a heartbeat, it was dunk or block.
Then Garnett answered with action.
Slap.
He met Stoudemire at the summit and rejected the finish.
His jumper was cold tonight, but his defense was still elite. Superstars always find a way to matter.
Kenny Smith's voice cut through on TNT.
"That's massive. Garnett hasn't had the touch, but he's still changing possessions."
Charles Barkley grunted.
"And that's why you pay the big man. He can be 2 for 20, but if he's protecting the rim, you still feel him."
Someone else on the broadcast added the obvious frustration.
"But Phoenix probably wanted that ball in Chen Yan's hands. He's been the steady one all night."
It was what every Suns fan was thinking.
…
After the stop, the Lakers did not rush. They gave it right back to Kobe.
He walked it up.
1:00 left, down 5.
Bell's sweat rolled off his face. If Kobe hit another 3, Phoenix's lead would evaporate.
Kobe dribbled between his legs beyond the arc, searching for rhythm.
The crowd rose. Celebrities in the front row stood too.
Bell crowded him, determined, no space, no 3.
Kobe did not care.
Once he found the beat, he rose anyway, a contested 3, unreasonable by any normal standard.
But Kobe had made a career out of unreasonable.
Staples held its breath.
Swish.
The ball spun, kissed the back rim, and dropped in.
95 to 93.
A 2 point game.
Staples detonated. Kobe's back to back 3s had given the Lakers life, and everyone in that building had seen this script before.
Barkley laughed, half annoyed, half impressed.
"Man. He's ridiculous. That's what stars do, they make you look stupid for playing good defense."
Kenny's tone stayed calm.
"Now Phoenix has pressure. If they come up empty, you're staring at a potential game winner."
D Antoni looked uneasy for a moment, but he still did not call timeout. Trust your guys, adjust on the floor. That was his style.
…
As Nash crossed half court, he signaled Chen Yan up.
Hand off near the logo.
Nash delivered it clean.
Chen Yan's stamina was nearly empty, but Nash still trusted him. In this moment, nobody else on Phoenix was a better option to execute the biggest shot.
Staples rained noise and hatred.
47 seconds.
Phoenix spread the floor.
Chen Yan put it on the deck and attacked.
Kobe was just as gassed, and now it was pure will.
Kobe stayed tight, chest on hip, denying Chen Yan the runway. With bodies that tired, that kind of pressure could force a turnover.
Chen Yan held on.
A crossover, then a hard change of direction, driving straight toward Kobe's left.
Kobe did not lose position. He stayed glued to Chen Yan's side, using contact to push him off line.
In a pure strength fight, Kobe had the advantage. He was built like a tank for a guard, and he wanted to bully Chen Yan out of his spot.
Chen Yan could not pick up speed.
So he changed the answer.
Near the free throw line, he stopped and spun.
Kobe did not bite, he stepped with him, then reached, his hand right in Chen Yan's space.
Pressure everywhere.
Chen Yan rose anyway.
Mid air, double clutch, fading away.
Core strength, balance, timing, all at once.
Kobe instinctively pressed down, trying to smother the release.
Beep.
Whistle.
Chen Yan released it at the last instant, fading hard, body drifting, then he hit the floor on the landing.
Every head turned, Kobe first, then the whole arena.
Swish.
And 1.
The Suns bench exploded.
Kenny's voice jumped.
"That's the shot. That's the one that breaks you."
Barkley shouted over him.
"That boy is cold blooded. Kobe played perfect defense, and it didn't matter."
Kobe could only stare at the net and the foul he had just given away.
Textbook defense.
Beyond textbook offense.
…
Chen Yan stepped to the line.
Staples booed like it wanted to shake the rim loose.
Swish.
Free throw good.
Phoenix back up 5.
98 to 93.
Chen Yan raised a finger to his lips.
Shush.
For a split second, the building went quiet.
Then it erupted into curses, louder than before.
"Fk Chen!"
"Fk Chen!"
"F**k Chen!"
Chen Yan smiled, almost amused.
To him, it was not anger. It was desperation, the sound of a city realizing the game had slipped away.
Kenny chuckled.
"Listen to that, man. That's synchronized, sounds like a choir."
Barkley laughed.
"Kenny, not everybody gets that kind of treatment in this building. Chen Yan is special."
The game was over the moment that 2+1 went down.
98 to 93.
On the road, in Los Angeles, the Phoenix Suns ripped away home court.
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