Chapter 272: Broke the three point record and won Game 1
"Both of them are emptying the tank!"
"This is insane!"
"They are playing pure superstar ball, just go time!"
"This is what the playoffs are for!"
"The whole game turned into their show!"
"And here comes Ginobili again!"
Fans watching at home were practically yelling at their screens. With 3:30 left, the real final act was about to start.
San Antonio ball.
Parker crossed half court and kept it himself. He burst toward the paint, selling the drive. At the last second he twisted midair and whipped the pass back out beyond the arc.
Right to Ginobili.
Phoenix had been feeding Chen Yan in isolation. Now the Spurs did the same with their hottest hand.
Manu took a light rhythm dribble and slid sideways. Raja Bell did not bite on the first fake, but Duncan's screen clipped him just enough to slow him. Stoudemire tried to switch, but Ginobili split the gap between him and Duncan like he had memorized the seam.
Open runway.
Manu went full throttle.
Chen Yan sprinted back, met him in the lane, and made contact. Ginobili did not dodge. He wanted the finish at the rim, trusted his lift, and rose to hammer it.
Both men jumped at the same time.
The Spurs bench stood up, ready to explode.
Instead of a dunk, they heard a cannon shot.
Bang.
A clean, head to head block.
Ginobili extended as far as he could, but Chen Yan's palm swallowed the ball at the summit. The demon sword had barely been unsheathed before Chen Yan slammed it right back into the scabbard.
That was Chen Yan's second block on Ginobili tonight.
The Spurs bench sat down in stunned silence.
The Suns bench leapt up like the floor caught fire.
A block does not show up like a bucket on the scoreboard, but it can flip the mood of an arena in one heartbeat. Phoenix fed off it immediately.
They sprinted the other way. Diaw found Chen Yan in transition, and Chen Yan pulled from deep.
It was a step beyond the line, but nobody was near him.
Swish.
105 to 94.
Chen Yan backpedaled with a grin. "That's 10."
From the booth, Charles Barkley nearly shouted. "There it is! Ten threes in a playoff game. New record. That young man is rewriting people's memories in real time."
Kenny Smith jumped in. "He just broke the single game playoff three point record outright. And he did it off a block that changed the whole possession. That is superstar sequencing."
Phoenix had pushed the lead back over 10, and Chen Yan had shattered the old mark in the same breath. In this era, teams did not live behind the arc the way they would in the future, which made a night like this feel even louder.
San Antonio tried to steady themselves.
Duncan posted Diaw, slid twice, and floated a soft push shot. It rimmed out. Duncan tipped it up again. The ball bounced three times and still refused to fall.
Even the rims were saying no.
The game was slipping away, but Chen Yan was not easing off. He wanted to finish the job.
Bell set a screen. Chen Yan sprinted off it, caught behind the line, took one dribble, and rose immediately. No extra dance, just clean, ruthless efficiency.
Bowen fought through the screen and lunged. Ginobili released his man and also flew at Chen Yan.
Two defenders, full speed.
Chen Yan stayed upright in perfect form and fired anyway.
Beep.
The whistle blew on the release. Bowen came down into Chen Yan's space and clipped him hard. A clear three point foul.
The crowd held its breath because the ball was still in the air.
Chen Yan hit the floor and did not pop up. He stayed there, eyes tracking the flight.
Swish.
Nothing but net.
And one.
3 plus 1.
The 11th three of the night.
The arena detonated. Teammates rushed over, hauled Chen Yan up, and celebrated the way they always did, smacking him on the backside like they were trying to knock the record loose and take it home with them.
Bowen wore that familiar innocent look, palms up like he was auditioning for a courtroom drama. The refs were not buying it. Replay showed it cleanly. This was not a baited foul. Bowen had genuinely gotten into Chen Yan's landing and body on the shot.
Barkley roared. "Oh my goodness! Chen just took over. Death strikes again!"
Kenny Smith flipped to the numbers. "He is up to 54 points already. That makes him the youngest player ever to hit 50 in a playoff game, passing Rick Barry at 23 years, 21 days and Michael Jordan at 23 years, 62 days. Rookie season, and he is doing this."
Barkley was still riding the wave. "Tonight is a playoff masterpiece. You do not see this kind of shot making unless you are special."
Kenny laughed. "Let's not crown the statue yet. He is still a rookie. But yeah, this is wild."
The chant rolled through America West Arena.
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
Chen Yan stepped to the line and even slowed his rhythm, soaking it in. He could hear the crowd singing the song they had made for him, the whole building humming his name.
He smiled like a man who knew the night belonged to him.
Swish.
The free throw dropped.
Four point play complete.
55 points.
Ginobili's run had been terrifying, but Chen Yan's answer was something else entirely. The chase down three and the killer 3 plus 1 smothered the Spurs comeback for good.
Beep.
The buzzer ended it.
Final score, Game 1: Suns 110, Spurs 98.
Phoenix held serve, and the sun rose right on schedule.
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