Chapter 268: Duncan's Dunk, Popovichs Biggest Headache
"No way," a fan shouted somewhere in the lower bowl. "How does that even go in?"
Another wave of noise followed. People were laughing, yelling, grabbing their heads like they had just watched a magic trick they could not explain.
That last logo three was not a designed play. Chen Yan knew it, and everyone in the building knew it. He had simply chased down a loose dribble and let it fly anyway. Somehow it still dropped.
Even Chen Yan laughed as he jogged back. He had not meant to take that shot. The ball had slipped, he recovered it, and his instincts did the rest.
On the Suns bench, teammates mobbed him the moment he sat down.
"Chen, you are out of your mind tonight."
"Man, did you put a GPS in that ball or what?"
"Unreal."
They were not joking just to hype him up. Even pros were watching a long three pointer get used like a normal weapon for the first time, and it had them buzzing.
Across the court, the Spurs bench was the total opposite. Popovich was still on his feet, voice sharp.
"What are you doing out there?" he barked. "Why are you giving him room? I said do not let him breathe on the perimeter."
At the end of the first quarter, Phoenix led 32 to 23.
Popovich hated everything about that number. He hated giving up 30 plus in a quarter. He hated a rookie scoring 19 in twelve minutes. And more than anything, he hated watching four deep threes land right in the middle of his game plan like a grenade.
Nothing about this felt normal. This kid had ripped up the script in the most unreasonable way possible.
The Spurs players sat in silence while Popovich paced and lectured. They were used to it. This was how he lit the fire. Strict, relentless, sometimes brutal. It was also why San Antonio never broke under pressure.
After the short break, the second quarter started.
Ginobili stayed on for San Antonio. Chen Yan led Phoenix. On paper it looked like bench units trading punches, but in reality both teams had their main offensive engines on the floor.
Ginobili struggled early. Chen Yan crowded him, chased him, and took away his rhythm. Every touch felt like work.
With 7:38 left in the second, both coaches went to substitutions. Popovich pulled Ginobili. DAntoni pulled Chen Yan right after, with Chen sitting on 23 points, 4 rebounds, and 2 assists.
DAntoni patted him twice on the backside as he walked off. He loved what he was seeing, but he also reminded Chen that the rest would be brief. The plan was still the plan.
On the Spurs side, the same pattern held. With 3:09 remaining in the half, Popovich sent Ginobili back in. Even as a sixth man, Ginobili played starter minutes. He averaged 31.1 minutes a game in the regular season, and that jumped to 33.4 in the playoffs, third on the team behind only Parker and Duncan.
With Ginobili returning, the Spurs big three were together again.
DAntoni responded on the next dead ball by bringing Chen Yan back too.
Both teams were now at full strength.
The score stood at 51 to 39, Suns up 12.
Phoenix went to work.
Nash pushed across half court and threw a high pass to Diaw on the wing. Diaw caught, turned, and gave a quick pump fake. Duncan stayed home, not biting. Diaw did not force it. He calmly swung the ball back out.
Even with their speed, the Suns offense stayed sharp because their top three decision makers Nash, Diaw, and Chen Yan all read the game at a high level.
Raja Bell touched the ball next, but he did not look to shoot. He paused for a heartbeat, then fed Chen Yan on the opposite side.
Chen took a step forward like he was about to rise into a pull up, then changed his mind. After sitting for a few minutes, his hands felt a little cold. He wanted to get downhill instead.
He gave a hard dribble left, leaned into Bowen, and drove.
Bowen slid with him, tight to his hip, using every veteran trick in the book. One arm hovered in front to bother the dribble, the other nudged Chen's waist and ribs when the refs were not looking. There was even a subtle knee bump to slow the first step. None of it showed up on TV, but Chen felt all of it.
Bowen was not elegant. He was not built on natural gifts. He survived by fighting for every inch, and sometimes that meant being a little dirty inside the rules. It was how a player like him lasted in this league.
Chen did not complain. He had seen it too many times. As long as Bowen was not trying to injure him, Chen would answer with basketball.
He kept driving.
San Antonio collapsed fast. Three defenders crowded him just inside the free throw line. Passing lanes vanished.
Chen stopped on a dime and flicked up a floater through the narrow gap.
Duncan rotated over, arms up, ready to swat it. Chen gave the shot extra arc to avoid the block. The ball skimmed past Duncan's fingertips.
Bang.
It hit the rim and bounced out.
Duncan grabbed the rebound cleanly and handed it to Parker.
As Parker brought it up slowly, Duncan jogged past Chen and muttered, "Nice try. You almost got that one."
Duncan's trash talk was always like that. No shouting, no profanity, just calm little lines that somehow still got under your skin.
Chen did not reply. There was no point arguing with Duncan. He just filed it away.
San Antonio ran a high pick and roll. Parker came off Duncan's screen and zipped into the lane. The defense shifted toward him, and Parker kicked the ball out to a wide open Ginobili.
Ginobili caught, rose, and buried the three.
51 to 42.
The lead was back to single digits. With Parker, Ginobili, and Duncan all on the floor, the Spurs offense finally looked alive again. None of them could be handled one on one for long.
Phoenix tried to answer quickly.
Diaw pushed from the baseline, Nash looked to run, but the Spurs retreat was perfect. No transition windows. No easy points.
Nash slowed it down, pointing teammates into place, dribbling to the right side. The shot clock ticked low. With 10 seconds left, Phoenix hit a rare stall.
Stoudemire came up to screen.
Nash used it, Stoudemire rolled hard, and every Spurs defender's eyes snapped to the two man game.
That was the bait.
Nash tossed a soft pass into the air.
A white jersey tore along the baseline into the paint.
Bowen turned his head and cursed under his breath. Chen Yan had disappeared.
By the time Bowen reacted, Chen was already airborne.
Duncan stepped in as the anchor, but his turn was a moment too slow. Chen Yan rose like he had springs in his shoes, caught the lob with one hand, and stared straight at the rim.
Boom.
He threw it down with a violent one handed dunk right over Duncan's shoulder.
The arena detonated.
Chen hung briefly, then dropped to the floor roaring, eyes locked on the replay above. The Performance Boost Card had his whole body firing, and this was the payoff. The most savage dunk of his season, in the middle of a playoff war, on top of the Spurs franchise icon.
Duncan had dunked on plenty of people in his career. Getting dunked on like that was rare. He instinctively slid aside to avoid contact and the foul, giving Chen the chance for a 2 plus 1.
On the Suns bench, the reserves almost spilled onto the court. They grabbed each other to stop the celebration from turning into a technical.
Popovich turned away for a second, like he needed a breath.
Kobe Bryant had been his biggest nightmare for years. Tonight, Chen Yan was making a strong case to join that list.
Deep threes, mid range pulls, drives, dunks. Chen had every tool, and the Spurs could not take all of them away at once.
Popovich had no choice.
"Timeout."
He had not planned to call it, but the crowd was shaking the building so hard the Spurs could barely hear their own sets.
As the whistle blew, Chen Yan walked past Duncan and said evenly, "Good defense. You almost stopped me."
Same calm tone. Same short sentence.
A Duncan style reply, delivered right back to him.
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