Chapter 336: A Divine Script, A True Assassin!
The scattered MVP chants got swallowed up fast.
This was Staples Center. The home crowd always had one more gear.
With a 2 point game on the board, Phil Jackson burned a timeout. In moments like this, nobody saves timeouts like they are collector cards. Coaches spend them for 1 possession, on offense or defense, because 1 possession can decide everything.
In the huddle, Jackson hit only 2 points.
First, get a clean look through movement and timing, not hero ball.
Second, double team Chen Yan. No more letting him breathe.
Tonight, Chen Yan had turned the Lakers' defense into a constant emergency.
Out of the timeout, the Lakers inbounded in the front court.
Fisher held at the top. Garnett floated to the high post. Kobe looped to the far side, ready to come get it.
Every eye followed Kobe.
That was the trap.
Garnett took a half step like he was about to screen, then snapped backward into a hard cut down the lane.
Fake screen, real backdoor.
Fisher threaded a bounce pass right into Garnett's stride.
Garnett gathered, went straight at the rim, hung for a beat, and flipped it off the glass through contact.
The tough stuff. The Garnett stuff.
99 to 103.
Kobe and Garnett tapped hands once, quick and calm, then Kobe barked for everyone to lock in.
A 4 point lead was not safety. It was just a reason to stay sharp.
The Suns fired the inbound back immediately.
Nash pushed past half court with urgency. Under 1 minute left, Phoenix had to score and score fast. They were not only playing the Lakers, they were racing the clock.
Chen Yan caught at the elbow, pivoted, and hit an extreme turn, planting his hand for balance as he slipped past Kobe.
It was risky. For a split second he almost lost his base. A turnover here would have turned a full night of work into a highlight reel for the wrong team.
But that was Chen Yan. Pressure never made him smaller.
Kobe got beat, then chased anyway, tight on his back shoulder. If Chen Yan tried to rise, Kobe could contest from behind.
Posey and Garnett crashed in at the same time.
3 bodies. 3 sets of hands.
A full triple team, superstar treatment.
Chen Yan stayed composed. He rose, twisted, and fired a pass to Raja Bell, who had been parked along the baseline like he was waiting for a signal.
Bell caught clean and shot cleaner.
Swish.
102 to 103.
Bell punched the air. Chen Yan pointed at him like a coach who just watched the right read get made.
The Suns trusted Chen Yan without hesitation, and Chen Yan trusted his teammates when it mattered most. That was Phoenix basketball.
Lakers possession.
This time they went to the triangle.
Kobe, Fisher, and Kwame Brown formed the strong side triangle. Posey and Garnett spaced weak side.
Fisher fed Kwame, then sprinted to the corner.
Kobe cut up to the strong side arc.
Kwame snapped it back to Kobe.
Kobe showed shot, then drove off a pump fake and got into the lane.
As soon as Kobe penetrated, Garnett slid into the free throw area, right on schedule.
Kobe drew 2 defenders and dumped it to Garnett.
Wide open midrange.
Money.
102 to 105.
That was the triangle at its cleanest. No heavy screening needed, just 5 players moving with purpose. Miss 1 cut and the whole thing collapses. Execute every cut and the defense starts chasing shadows.
Suns possession.
Nash and Stoudemire ran pick and roll again. Nash turned the corner, paused, then kicked it out.
Chen Yan caught and took 2 long steps into the paint.
The defense collapsed instantly.
Chen Yan looked over his shoulder and flipped it back to Nash.
Nash caught, flicked, and fed Stoudemire under the rim.
After the pass, the cut, and the extra pass, the Lakers' back line was stretched thin.
Stoudemire lifted a steady floater off the glass.
104 to 105.
Every bucket was a verdict now.
Chen Yan could do damage alone, but nobody wins a war like this with 1 blade. Nash and Stoudemire were All Star level partners, and in these final possessions, that mattered.
The Lakers inbounded from the baseline.
This time Kobe brought it up himself.
The roar inside Staples began to rise, like the building could sense the last swing coming.
Kobe crossed half court slowly, dribbling right handed while calling with his left.
The Lakers still led by 1. They did not need speed, they needed certainty.
Kobe's finger was swollen, but his face did not show it. When he locked into the game, pain became background noise.
At 12 seconds, Kobe waved everyone away.
Isolation.
He bit his jersey, rocked the ball back and forth, and stared at the rim like it owed him money.
He had not made a field goal in the last 3 minutes.
It did not matter.
When the moment got heavier, Kobe's urge to shoot only got stronger. That was the part of him Chen Yan understood the most.
Kobe accelerated, forcing left past Raja Bell.
Bell stayed attached, hip to hip.
Kobe stopped hard at the high post.
Chen Yan made the right read, left his man and sprinted into the play.
2 defenders.
Kobe leaned back into a super fadeaway, high release, pure arrogance.
The degree of difficulty was insane, anyone who had ever played could see it.
Kobe never cared. Confidence was his native language.
Swish.
104 to 107.
Staples exploded. A classic Kobe dagger that refused to be a dagger yet, because the clock still had breath.
With 16 seconds left and down 3, D Antoni called timeout instantly.
The plan was clear, quick 2 first, then foul and gamble on missed free throws.
Phoenix came out of the timeout with a front court inbound.
Diaw had the ball. Chen Yan was smothered by Kobe and could not free himself immediately.
Diaw hesitated, then floated it to Raja Bell.
Bell attacked the paint, looking for the quick 2.
Then Garnett appeared, swallowing the lane with that wide coverage that made every drive feel like running into a closing door.
Bell and Garnett rose together.
The pressure got to Bell. He twisted and tried to pass in mid air.
Passing while airborne was a massive risk, it gave defenders time to read the line.
As Bell tried to sling it out, Kwame Brown stepped right into the lane.
Slap.
Steal.
The same big man the crowd loved to clown just made the biggest play of his night.
On the sideline, Jackson called timeout immediately.
Kwame's free throw percentage sat around 40 percent, and Jackson did not want Phoenix fouling him and turning this into roulette.
Out of the timeout, the Lakers changed personnel.
Posey sat. Vujacic checked in, the best free throw shooter available.
With 10.5 seconds left, up 3, and the Lakers holding the ball in the front court, some Suns fans were already bracing for the worst.
Lakers fans, meanwhile, could taste it.
Garnett inbounded from the sideline.
Vujacic broke free and came to the ball.
He caught, stopped his dribble right away, and waited for the foul. That was why he was on the floor.
But Phoenix did not foul.
They trapped.
Stoudemire came from the left, Raja Bell from the right, bodies attached, arms active, space disappearing.
Vujacic lost balance, almost stumbling out of bounds.
In desperation, he tried to bounce it to Kobe nearby.
That was the mistake.
Chen Yan burst into the lane like he had been waiting for that pass all night.
He picked it clean.
Turnover.
Chaos.
In the booth, Kenny Smith's voice jumped first.
"That's the nightmare if you stop dribbling on the sideline. That trap is designed to take away your eyes."
Charles Barkley came right after him.
"Man, that ball just got stolen like it had bad credit. That is a grown man swipe."
Phil Jackson was screaming from the sideline.
"No 3. Do not give him a 3."
Do not give him a 3?
Chen Yan dribbled straight to the right wing, around the 45, like he was walking to his favorite seat in the house.
He gathered outside the arc.
Then he did not shoot.
He took a calm half step back and right.
Because in his peripheral vision, he had seen it, his right foot had been on the line.
One tiny adjustment.
One cold breath.
Then he rose over Kobe.
Full commitment. No hesitation. Time demanded a decision.
The buzzer sounded as the ball spun through the air.
Beep.
Swish.
Tie game.
Hellfire in the form of a 3.
Chen Yan held the follow through, face blank, eyes icy.
He was just 19, still carrying a trace of youth in his features.
But on that floor, in that moment, he was a professional assassin.
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