Chapter 285: Kobe's Praise And The Spurs Off Court Tactics
"The Suns crush the Spurs and take a 2 0 series lead."
"47 points, Chen Yan turns the night into a solo show."
"Rampage in the desert, Chen drives the Spurs into a corner."
"How do you guard him? Popovich jokes the only answer is to lock Chen in the locker room."
The next morning, Chen Yan woke up to his phone buzzing nonstop, full of headlines and praise pouring in from back home. The outside world was already talking about the Suns as the favorites to advance.
Chen did not buy into it.
Advancing was decided on the floor, not in comment sections. Two home wins were not a death sentence for a team like San Antonio.
They were still the defending champions, built on years of playoff battles. Duncan, Parker, and Ginobili were one of the most complete trios in the league. They were not going to calmly lie down and let the Suns walk through their bodies into the Western Conference Finals.
He shut the laptop with a click.
Right on cue, the doorbell at his villa rang.
Bill Duffy was at the door, sharp suit, early morning smile. Chen's playoff explosion had sent his market value through another ceiling, and his agent had come in person to lock in the next wave of endorsement plans.
After just one season, Chen had become one of Duffy's most valuable clients. The veteran agent now spent more time on Chen than on other young names he had signed around the same period, like Greg Oden and Mike Conley. The numbers on the deals made that decision very simple.
They ran through strategy in the living room, coffee on the table, contract drafts on the tablet. Once they had aligned on the general direction, Chen checked his watch.
Game 3 was coming, two straight road games in San Antonio. All of his real focus needed to be back on the hardwood.
"Details are yours," he told Duffy. "You make the calls."
After a full season together, Chen completely trusted his agent's judgment and character. As long as he set the big picture, Duffy would handle the rest.
…
That night, the result of the other Western Conference semifinal came in.
The Lakers protected home court and beat the Hornets 95 to 84, taking a 2 0 lead of their own.
Kobe Bryant put up 31 points, 5 rebounds, and 5 assists. Kevin Garnett added 21 points, 13 rebounds, and 5 blocks.
With Garnett onboard this season, Kobe no longer felt that powerless frustration he had carried after the breakup of the old Shaq and Kobe partnership. The weight was finally shared again.
On the other side, Chris Paul logged 21 points, 12 assists, 5 rebounds, and 4 steals in a complete effort. But two stars were still not enough to match four.
Los Angeles had two true superstars at the top, and the rest of their rotation fit cleanly around them. Paul's supporting cast in New Orleans had talent, but their ceiling could not touch Kobe and KG.
David West, usually reliable, finished with only 10 points on 2 of 11 from the field and 6 free throws. Next to Garnett's length and intensity, he looked completely muted. Chandler grabbed 11 rebounds but only scored 5 points, his entire offense tied to whatever Paul could create for him.
Paul had to score, organize, and stabilize everything. The load on his shoulders was enormous.
In the locker room afterward, the Lakers faced the cameras.
Once the questions about the game wound down, a reporter turned the focus to Phoenix.
"Kobe," he said, "I am sure you have been watching the other Western series. What do you think about Chen Yan hitting all those deep, nonstandard threes over the past two games?"
Kobe pursed his lips for a second before answering.
"Nonstandard?" he said. "To me, if the ball goes in, it is a good shot, no matter where you take it from."
"So will we see you taking that kind of shot in the future?" the reporter pushed.
Kobe gave a small smile.
"I have a lot of respect for Chen," he said. "But that kind of three is not part of my regular shot diet. I do not change my game just because of one player."
Garnett was asked a similar question and, in typical KG fashion, went straight at it.
"To me, it is just a longer shot," he said. "If I am defending him, I am not giving him that much room. My defense can get out there."
He had the resume to back it up. In his mind, he was the most complete defensive power forward in league history, with a coverage area that stretched two full steps beyond the arc. So when he watched Chen use range to carve out space, he did not see something mystical. He saw something he believed he could challenge.
Whether theory would match reality was a question for another time. For that matchup to even happen, both teams would have to handle business and survive their current series.
…
Game 3 between the Suns and Spurs tipped off on May 7, United States time.
The day before, the Suns flew into San Antonio on a team charter. The city was already loud. Spurs fans packed the streets around the team hotel, chanting and singing until their voices echoed off the glass.
On the surface, it was support for the home team.
In practice, it was harassment aimed at the visitors.
The noise did not stop until around four thirty in the morning, when the police finally dispersed the crowd and the last drumbeats faded away.
Early that morning, in the lobby, Azubuike spotted Chen stepping out of the elevator.
"Hey, Chen, how did you sleep last night?" he asked.
"Not great," Chen admitted. "I had just started drifting off when they woke me up again. After that, it was on and off the whole night."
He did not need to ask Azubuike the same question. The dark circles under his teammate's eyes said plenty.
A moment later, Amar'e Stoudemire stumbled out of the next elevator, covering a yawn with one hand.
"Morning," he said, waving weakly at the group.
One look at him, and it was obvious he had not rested well either.
It was the same across the roster. Every Suns player had been disrupted to some degree by the chaos downstairs.
"It is all right," Amar'e said, clapping Chen and Azubuike on the shoulders. "We can sleep on the bus."
Normally, that would have worked. Team hotels were usually far enough from the arena that players could steal a little extra sleep on the ride in.
This time, the plan did not survive the parking lot.
As the bus rolled toward the exit, a wave of Spurs fans surged forward, blocking the driveway and surrounding the vehicle. They pounded on the sides, yelled, waved signs, and hurled every insult they could come up with.
They were not trying to tip the bus.
They were trying to rattle the people inside it.
For more than ten minutes, the Suns sat there, boxed in, before police cleared a path and escorted them toward the ATT Center.
As the bus finally pulled away, some of the fans lowered their hands and exhaled.
"Spurs, that is as far as we can take it," one of them muttered. "The rest is on you."
San Antonio's off court tactics came in all shapes and sizes. The goal was always the same.
Do everything possible to make sure the Suns never felt comfortable for a single second.
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