Chapter 333: No Blind Spots, The Hottest Hand in the Building
"So tough!"
"He swallowed his own blood!"
"That's a real competitor!"
"I'm fired up just watching this!"
In living rooms everywhere, fans froze the moment Chen Yan swallowed the blood in his mouth and waved off the substitution. It was disgusting, it was reckless, and it was exactly the kind of stubborn that makes playoff basketball feel like war.
Back on the floor, the boos hit him like a wall.
Booooooo.
The more he played like a hero, the more Staples Center hated him.
Chen Yan ignored it, set his feet, and shot the free throw.
Swish.
61 to 70.
That was 5 straight from Chen Yan, and Phoenix had dragged the deficit back into single digits.
"Defense!" D'Antoni clapped hard on the sideline. "Defense!"
The Suns fed off it. You could see it in their eyes. Chen Yan's message was loud without a single speech.
I'm not coming out.
And I'm not losing.
…
Los Angeles possession.
Kobe tried to shake free, but Raja Bell stayed glued to him. Not just Bell, either. Every Suns jersey was popping with energy, cutting harder, rotating faster, fighting every screen like it was personal.
Kobe finally created a sliver to catch, and Chen Yan immediately showed a hard front, taking away the clean look.
Only 8 seconds left.
Troy Hudson took the ball in the corner and hurried a 3.
Clang.
Miss.
Phoenix ran again.
Nash pushed, and the Lakers sprinted back, trying to keep the Suns out of their rhythm. Nash still attacked, cutting toward the middle with a burst, forcing the defense to collapse.
Then, behind the back, he whipped the ball to the corner.
Chen Yan was waiting.
This was classic Phoenix tempo, Nash drives deep, the defense caves, the shooter is already set.
Swish.
A quick 3.
64 to 70.
8 straight for Chen Yan, and now his touch was fully awake.
Phil Jackson could not hold it in.
"Get up on him!" he barked from the sideline. "Do not give him space!"
…
The Lakers tried to answer with speed.
Quick inbound, Kobe raced it up to the left wing. Garnett understood immediately and sprinted into the lane from behind.
Kobe glanced once and fired a bounce pass.
Garnett caught it in stride and took 3 steps toward the rim.
Nash was there.
Groin tight, body small, heart stubborn, he planted like a post.
Bang.
The collision echoed.
Offensive foul.
Garnett spiked the ball in frustration as he turned to run back.
Nash hit the floor, then popped his fist as if he had just won a title.
"Yes!"
Nash was not a great defender, but he had something a lot of elite defenders never master, the art of drawing a charge. It was not about strength. It was about timing, nerve, and reading the play before it happened.
Chen Yan and Stoudemire hauled Nash up.
The old point guard, built like a thin wire, had just thrown his body in front of a freight train and stolen a possession.
Phil Jackson's expression darkened. The Suns were moving again, and the Lakers were starting to feel it.
…
Phoenix inbounded.
Nash crossed half court and immediately delivered the ball to the hot hand.
Chen Yan caught it and settled into his familiar stance, one hand controlling the dribble like he owned the air around him. James Posey was the defender, and the floor was spaced wide.
Straight isolation at the top.
Thump. Thump.
Between the legs, probing, testing Posey's balance.
Then Chen Yan burst left.
Posey retreated hard to avoid getting blown by.
And Chen Yan stopped on a dime, rising straight into a pull up.
The shot was sudden, almost launched out of a crouch, and Posey's contest was nothing more than a wave.
Swish.
A rainbow jumper from a step beyond the 3 point line.
67 to 70.
Staples went quiet in a way that felt unnatural.
That was a superstar shot, pure confidence, pure control.
Posey stared at Chen Yan, frustrated. Tonight felt impossible. Drive, shot, pass, it did not matter. Chen Yan was finding an answer every time.
Timeout.
Phil Jackson finally called it. The lead had been bleeding away too fast.
When Chen Yan reached the bench, the Suns players opened their arms and pulled him in. No speech needed. The message was already in the scoreboard.
…
Out of the timeout, Phoenix stayed the same.
The Lakers adjusted.
Ariza checked in as a fresh defender, and Fisher returned to the floor.
The change paid off immediately.
Fisher caught a kickout from Kobe on the right wing and knocked down the open 3.
67 to 73.
Staples breathed again.
But Chen Yan was not done.
Top of the arc, he called for Nash and ran a pick and roll. After the switch, Chen Yan took 1 between the legs dribble to set his rhythm, then rose from deep.
Fisher lunged the moment Chen Yan gathered.
The read was right.
The contest was right in his face.
It did not matter.
Swish.
70 to 73.
Chen Yan drilled it anyway, a cold shot meant to hurt morale.
Phil Jackson could only shake his head. Fisher had done his job. This was just one of those nights where the defense felt pointless.
…
Lakers possession.
Kobe tried to answer, pulling up over Bell on a tough contested jumper.
Clang.
Short.
That finger was still bothering him.
But the Lakers had Garnett.
He exploded off the floor, muscled past Diaw, and hammered the putback dunk with 1 hand.
70 to 75.
Garnett roared straight into the baseline camera, mouth wide, eyes wild, like the Wolf from Minnesota had come back for a moment.
The Lakers were refusing to fold.
…
Phoenix came right back.
Nash crossed half court and found Chen Yan again, understanding exactly what kind of rhythm his star was in. When Chen Yan caught fire, the smartest play was to get out of the way and keep feeding the flame.
As Nash released the pass, he also set a screen on Ariza to help free the catch.
The Lakers were ready.
Garnett left Diaw and stepped up to double.
Chen Yan retreated, then accelerated to his right, trying to break the trap with space. Garnett stayed attached, agile for a big, and he barked at Fisher to cover the open man so Chen Yan could not bait them into an easy kickout.
In the scramble, it turned into a straight duel.
Chen Yan and Garnett, 1 on 1.
Chen Yan dribbled left, pulling Garnett toward the left wing, just outside the 3 point line.
Garnett slapped the floor once.
He wanted it.
Chen Yan answered with a flurry, between the legs, between the legs, then a sudden burst straight at Garnett's ankles.
Garnett reached, trying to poke it loose as Chen Yan went by.
Chen Yan snapped into a pocket dribble, pulling the ball back, keeping it safe, and creating space at the same time.
Garnett stepped forward immediately, fully aware of Chen Yan's range.
Chen Yan did not rush. He felt the coverage, measured it, and slid sideways toward the top, like he was moving Garnett on a string.
Then, beyond the arc, he stopped hard and sold the step back.
Garnett leaned forward to close the air.
In the same instant, Chen Yan went between the legs, changed direction, and rose straight into the pull up.
From deep.
2 steps beyond the line.
Garnett recovered, but he was still half a beat late.
Swish.
73 to 75.
The Suns bench threw up 3 fingers in unison.
Chen Yan spread his arms on the jog back, shaking his head like the whole building was too small to hold him.
Over the last few minutes, he had scored 17 straight points.
No cold spots. No safe corners. No hiding place on the floor.
The Staples Center screen caught his celebration in close up, and the boos poured down again, furious and united.
Then the chant took over the arena.
"fk chen!"
"fk chen!"
"fk chen!"
"fk chen!"
Chen Yan looked around, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
To him, the chant did not sound like confidence.
It sounded like fear trying to stay loud.
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