TL: 100PS
Chapter 282: Infinite Nesting Dolls, Beating the Spurs at Their Own Game
"Helicopter tip in. Chen just set America West Arena on fire again," Kenny Smith exclaimed.
Barkley grinned. "Man, lighting this place up is easy for him. He does that every night."
On the floor, even after getting hammered on a putback dunk, Tim Duncan stayed calm. That was his gift. No gestures, no grimaces, just the same stone faced focus.
On the next trip, Duncan went right back to work on the left block.
As soon as he caught it, the Suns closed in. Amar e Stoudemire muscled him from behind, Chen Yan shaded in front.
Duncan did not rush, and he did not try to get his revenge in one play. He pivoted on his heel, felt the pressure, and used his body as a shield before swinging the ball to the weak side.
Chen flashed his hand at the exact moment Duncan released it. He did not come away with the steal, but he did deflect the pass and knock it off line.
The ball skittered toward the free throw line. Ginobili and Raja Bell both launched themselves at it, sliding and diving, neither willing to give an inch.
That is playoff basketball. Every loose ball is a small war.
Both men got a hand on it, but neither secured it. The ball squirted free again, and Tony Parker darted in, grabbed it, and drove right down the lane.
The defense scrambled, bodies flying in every direction, and Duncan slipped to the rim. Parker dropped it off, and Duncan kissed it high off the glass.
Fifty eight to fifty two.
Phoenix still controlled the game, but San Antonio's steady, grinding style kept the lead from ever feeling truly safe.
The Suns knew a single digit margin against the Spurs was not a cushion. It was a warning.
Phoenix came back the other way.
Nash held the ball above the arc. Chen lifted as if to take a handoff, drawing the defense just a step in his direction.
The moment the Spurs shifted their attention toward Chen, Nash veered sideways and rose up into a clean jumper.
Swish.
Sixty one to fifty two.
Nash almost never missed looks that open. As he backpedaled, he reached over and smacked Chen on the backside.
At this point their chemistry did not need words. One glance, one fake, one read. That was enough.
San Antonio came back again.
Parker brought it over half court and dropped it inside to Duncan, the clear focal point of the possession.
Duncan put the ball on the floor with his back to the basket. One dribble. Two dribbles. Then he spun away from the pressure and took two long strides into the lane for a soft floater.
Once he left his feet, he was committed. This time there was no passing out.
As the shot went up, Chen came flying in from the side to help. Duncan managed to arc it just high enough to avoid the block, but the contest still bothered the release.
The ball hit the glass, then the rim, and bounced out.
Stoudemire and Chen both exploded for the rebound. Amar e had the inside spot, but Chen's reaction was quicker. He snatched it in one hand and landed in control.
On the catch, he fired the outlet to Nash and immediately sprinted up the sideline.
With Nash handling and pushing, Chen knew he did not need to bring the ball himself. In transition, running hard without the ball is always faster than dribbling with it, and Nash would find him if he carved out space.
"Get back. Keep an eye on him," Popovich shouted when he saw Chen streaking up the floor.
Bowen turned and ran, but every step widened the gap. Even if Bowen had the ball in his hands, he would not match that stride at this stage of his career.
Someone else did, though.
The French sports car hit the gas. Parker chased down the middle of the floor, closing fast on Chen.
Nash lofted a long lead pass into the open space in front of Chen.
Chen caught it in stride and took a powerful first step.
Perfect lead.
Parker was the last line of defense. He had no intention of letting Chen walk into an easy layup.
As Chen gathered for his second step, he abruptly shifted gears, slowing down and gliding sideways.
Fast, then slow.
He used the change of pace like a knife, trying to cut across Parker's timing.
Parker read it quickly and stabbed his hand in, trying to poke the ball free as Chen changed direction.
His reaction was sharp, but Chen's ball protection was sharper.
After an entire season of living in transition, Chen knew what defenders would try and when they would reach. He snapped the ball up and lifted it above his head, but Parker's hand clipped his elbow.
Beep.
The whistle cut through the noise.
As soon as he heard it, Chen flipped the ball toward the rim with one hand.
Might as well test the trick.
The ball hit the rim, bounced three times, then dropped through.
"And one," Chen shouted, holding up three fingers.
The building erupted again.
Parker dropped his head. In his mind, if he had pulled back and given up the layup, the team would at least have saved a point and he would have saved a foul.
Chen stepped to the free throw line for the extra shot.
He let it fly, but even as it left his hand, he felt it was a touch long. He took two quick steps forward immediately after the release.
Sure enough, the ball struck the iron and bounced hard.
It came right back to him, almost as if it had a mind of its own.
Chen corralled it just inside the free throw line, took a powerful gather, and exploded straight down the lane.
In the paint, Duncan waited with his arms straight up. He was not backing down just because he had been dunked on twice. Part of his greatness was that he met every challenge, over and over, without flinching.
Chen rose into him, then adjusted mid air, switching hands and contorting his body for a floating finish.
The shot dropped, clean.
The whistle blew again.
Another and one.
"Hey, I just went straight up. I did not even move," Duncan protested, genuinely frustrated.
The official shook his head. From his angle, Chen's drive generated enough contact on Duncan's body to warrant the foul, and he stuck with the call.
Back to back three point plays. The crowd inside the arena and the fans watching at home were going crazy.
"Oho, look at Duncan's face," Barkley laughed. "He is out there like, what do you want me to do, vanish?"
Kenny nodded. "Chen does a great job initiating that contact, then absorbing it and still finishing. By the letter of the rule, that is a foul. Duncan is vertical, but there is still a bump, and Chen sells it just enough."
"Two straight and ones," a fan shouted from the lower bowl. "He is running a scam on the scoreboard."
"Chen is out here playing nesting dolls," another joked. "Miss the free throw, grab it back, and then stack another foul inside it."
The noise swelled as Chen stepped back to the stripe.
This time he knocked it down clean.
Swish.
Five points in one trip.
Sixty six to fifty two.
In a blink, the lead had ballooned back to fourteen.
San Antonio tried to answer.
Following Popovich's signal from the bench, Parker gave the ball up to Ginobili and cleared the side.
When the offense bogged down, Manu was the flamethrower who could reset everything.
He began to dribble between his legs over and over at the top of the key, searching for a crack in the defense.
Raja Bell stuck to him like glue. No reaching, no gambling, just strong, disciplined position defense. On that possession, he showed exactly why coaches loved him as a perimeter stopper.
Cut off from his driving lane, Ginobili gave the ball back to Parker, then circled out to the wing and took a handoff.
The Suns switched. Chen jumped out on Manu, removing any air around the three point line.
The shot clock wound down.
With three seconds left, Ginobili had no choice. He rose into a leaning, fading three over Chen, his body turning away from the basket as he released it.
The advantage of that shot was obvious. No one was blocking it. The downside was just as obvious. Even the shooter did not quite know where it was going to land.
Ginobili had made a career out of impossible shots, but impossible did not mean automatic.
Bang.
The ball smacked the side of the backboard and ricocheted back into play.
It was, for Phoenix, a perfect defensive sequence. They had chased, switched, rotated, and contested with the same smothering, connected energy that had made the Spurs famous.
For one possession, the Suns had used San Antonio's own style against them.
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