Chapter 283: Century Assist, Win G2
"Great shot."
"Nice defense."
"That is how you do it, keep making that Argentinian work."
"Finish them off."
Watching the Suns smother the Spurs with their own brand of discipline, the Phoenix crowd was electric. Every stop poured more fuel on the Suns' fire.
Stoudemire cleared the defensive rebound and immediately kicked the ball to Nash.
Nash pushed up the floor, eyes scanning the court. Near the top of the key he casually flipped the ball backward to Chen Yan trailing the play.
The pass looked relaxed, but Nash had read it two steps earlier. Chen caught it clean in stride.
One step behind the three point line, straight into his gather.
Transition three.
No hesitation.
The ball clipped the back of the rim and dropped through.
69 - 52.
Under Chen's lead, the Suns had blown the gap back out past fifteen.
On the sideline, Gregg Popovich scratched his head, then stood and walked toward the scorer's table. He had seen enough.
"Time out," he barked.
As the players came to the bench he stabbed a finger in Chen's direction.
"Double that guy. Be decisive. On defense we have one job, take the ball out of that rookie's hands."
Popovich knew exactly what he was seeing. The Suns' entire offensive surge was orbiting around Chen. If they could choke off his rhythm, he believed he could drag the game back into Spurs control.
Then he turned to Ginobili.
"Manu, you handle more on offense. Be creative, but not crazy. We want good possessions, get the ball to the rim. We have time. Do not panic. Chip away at it. Understand?"
Ginobili nodded, and the rest of the Spurs answered in unison.
"Got it."
The timeout ended and play resumed.
Just like before, Ginobili brought the ball up and held it at the top.
This time though, he did not pound the ball in isolation. He called Duncan up for a pick and roll.
Duncan slid to the high post, Ginobili snaked around his screen, then bounced the ball back to him.
Stone Buddha caught it at the free throw line, rose without a second thought, and buried the jumper.
Swish.
Simple, clean, efficient. When Ginobili and Duncan shared the action, you could not afford to leave either one. That made their two man game a nightmare to guard.
Phoenix took the ball out quickly along the baseline.
They could feel it. The door was creaking open on a blowout, and they wanted to slam it shut in the third quarter.
Nash crossed half court, and as always his first look was for Chen.
Chen caught it outside the left wing three point line. Bowen was already chest to chest, knowing full well that anywhere over half court was Chen's range now.
Chen saw there was no room on the catch, so he slid along the perimeter.
Ginobili peeled off Raja Bell and joined Bowen, trapping hard at the top.
Chen suddenly gathered the ball.
Was he going to pull up?
Bowen and Ginobili both rose with him, hands up, bodies leaning.
Chen sent them both flying with a single fake.
They bit hard and left their feet. He stayed grounded.
He loved to blend real and fake, step and non step, over and over until defenders could not tell which was which. The moment a player got comfortable with one move, he shelved it and brought out another.
As soon as Bowen and Ginobili committed, Chen fired a pass into the middle to Diaw flashing near the free throw line.
With his dribble gone, Chen was now in a dead ball. He needed help.
"Boris."
He yelled as he passed, then exploded forward.
Diaw understood instantly. He simply held the ball out with his right hand and acted as a human handoff station.
Utility man Diaw came online.
Chen grabbed the ball on the move and knifed straight into the paint.
With his speed at full throttle, no one could get in front of him.
Even Duncan stayed rooted, opening his stance instead of trying to take the hit.
Chen saw him under the rim and smiled to himself. So the big man was not stepping in this time.
Duncan's choice made sense. Chen was already fully loaded. Trying to cut him off would almost certainly mean a foul and maybe a poster.
Inside the lane, Chen took off.
Boom.
Two handed smash.
He hung on the rim for a beat and roared, adrenaline spilling out of him.
Seventy one to fifty four.
Behind the play, Diaw allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. With Chen beside him, some nights his job really was as simple as catching, standing, and handing the ball to a rocket.
"Man, Diaw just stood there and got an assist."
"That is the assist of the century."
"Feeding Chen is easy. Just hold the ball and enjoy the show."
"Even I could rack up numbers in that spot."
Across message boards and group chats, fans spammed their reactions.
On the floor, the Suns were already shifting gears again.
With the building rocking, Chen triggered his team wide skill, Counterattack Storm.
For the next few minutes, Phoenix turned the game into a blur of orange and white. Every miss by San Antonio sparked another transition wave.
Chen thrived in that chaos. Pull up jumpers, slashes to the rim, deep threes, drive and kicks. He touched every part of the box score and every part of the floor.
The Spurs tried to drag the tempo back into the mud, but it was too late. They were fully caught in the Suns' running rhythm.
By the end of the third quarter, Chen had poured in 16 points and handed out 4 assists in the period alone, stamping out any hope of a San Antonio rally.
In the fourth, Phoenix never let go.
The Spurs kept fighting, but the lead stayed heavy.
Off a late pick and roll, Chen stepped into another three and pushed his total to 45 points.
On the sideline, Suns legend Walter Davis got to his feet, clapping hard for the new face of the franchise.
A few possessions later, Chen drew a foul and calmly buried two free throws.
Forty seven points.
The Spurs, nearly twenty points behind, refused to quit. They ground out a few stops and chipped away at the margin, but the hole from the third quarter was simply too deep. Their late push only made the final score respectable.
When the horn finally sounded, the scoreboard read:
Phoenix Suns 103, San Antonio Spurs 84.
The Suns had taken Game 2, and once again they had come out on top in the Battle of Contrasting Styles.
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