Chapter 331: Gods Fight
Bang.
A dull thud echoed through Staples Center as Kobe fought for position on the box out and suddenly took a hard step backward.
What happened?
Did the man who throws elbows just get elbowed away?
That was exactly it.
The instant Kobe started to swing, Chen Yan struck first. In one clean motion, he drove an elbow straight into Kobe's chest, sharp and precise, like he had been waiting for the opening all night.
Kobe still completed his own motion, but he was off balance, and his elbow cut nothing but air.
An elbow that did not even brush a single hair.
Three straight whiffs.
For Kobe, that might have been the most humiliating elbow sequence of his career.
Chen Yan burned all his focus in that tangle, and Garnett calmly scooped up the loose ball. He held it high, settled everyone down, then found Troy Hudson to reset.
Kobe jogged into the offensive end rubbing at his chest. It stung. That elbow had some real bite on it.
…
Lakers possession.
Kobe took the pass from Hudson and attacked the baseline.
Chen Yan instantly left his own man and formed a hard double with Raja Bell. The moment the trap arrived, Kobe elevated and fired the ball out.
And as soon as it left his hands, Kobe's other hand went to work.
He snapped an elbow toward Chen Yan, quick and sneaky, the kind you only see from veterans who know exactly where the officials are not looking.
Bang.
Chen Yan ate it clean.
Kobe flicked him a smug look after, as if to say, welcome to the league's real final exam.
Chen Yan did not wait long to answer.
Next trip, he came right back with a lightning elbow of his own, drilling Kobe in the right side of the chest.
For several possessions, it turned into something absurd.
Elbow for elbow.
Hit for hit.
Both of them acting like they were guarding a family heirloom, not a basketball.
The refs went into full blind mode, letting the stars set the temperature of the game. In the playoffs, the league knows why people bought the tickets. They were not about to whistle their headliners into early showers unless it got too loud to ignore.
After a few minutes, the unofficial scorecard was ugly.
Chen Yan landed 3 out of 3, a perfect 100% on his elbows.
Kobe went 2 for 4, and one of the misses was that three swing airball disaster from earlier.
Staples Center ate it up.
The crowd did not just watch, they fed the fire.
"Take him out, Kobe!"
"Do not let him breathe!"
"Do not let that kid leave Staples alive!"
The noise rolled down from the upper deck like heat.
…
New Lakers possession.
Kobe used a baseline cut off a screen.
Garnett set it perfectly, a brick wall that erased Raja Bell for a heartbeat.
Kobe was about to receive the pass, and Chen Yan rotated from the wing like he was shot out of a cannon.
Slap.
He got a hand in and knocked Hudson's pass off course.
The Suns bench sprang up like the ball had already turned into 2 points.
This was a steal waiting to become a runway dunk.
Kobe refused to let that happen.
As the ball squirted loose, he veered right and stepped into Chen Yan's path, using pure veteran geometry to cut off the lane.
Chen Yan did not concede either. He grabbed Kobe's shorts, trying to yank himself through the gap.
Kobe reached back and grabbed Chen Yan's jersey.
Now it was not even basketball.
It was 2 stars locked in their own private wrestling match, broadcast to the whole planet.
They tangled, twisted, and finally both hit the floor, neither of them gaining possession.
Nash and Stoudemire sprinted over and hauled Chen Yan up.
The arena started buzzing in a different tone.
Chen Yan looked down and realized why.
During the struggle, his collar had been ripped nearly in half.
Good thing he had a vest underneath, otherwise the replay would have turned into a whole different kind of highlight.
"Damn," Chen Yan muttered, ready to complain, until he noticed something in his own hand.
A piece of fabric.
He glanced back.
Kobe was still on the floor, one hand on his groin, glaring up with pure resentment.
Chen Yan understood instantly.
Kobe's shorts had a huge tear.
And Kobe was lucky too. White compression shorts underneath saved the league from waking up to the wrong kind of headline.
The home crowd jeered, half furious, half thrilled.
The head referee had seen enough and whistled for a timeout immediately.
One star with a torn jersey, the other with ripped shorts.
This was no longer just physical, it was bad for the NBA's image.
Team staff sprinted into the tunnel and came back with fresh gear, jerseys for one side, shorts for the other, like they were patching up prizefighters between rounds.
In the stands, and on TV, everyone lost it.
Fans were laughing because nobody had seen anything like this before.
"Why don't they just go fight somewhere and come back when it's over?"
"It's normal to bring a ball to a fight."
"This feels like 90s basketball."
"The game is amazing, but it's expensive. Somebody's equipment budget is crying."
"What do you think, are they going to start liking each other after this?"
"Hahaha, a battle of the gods!"
Normally, that phrase is reserved for impossible shot making, 2 stars trading buckets like the rim is wide open.
Tonight was different.
This was not a duel of jumpers.
Judging by the torn fabric and the bruised chests, it looked like Kobe and Chen Yan were genuinely trying to fight.
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