TL: 100PS
Chapter 382: Taking the Lead, James' Habit
Even the guys on Team USA's bench reacted to that last pull up with the same look, half disbelief, half irritation. Chen Yan was bringing pure NBA rhythm into a FIBA game, and he was doing it in their building.
Team USA came back with the ball.
Chris Paul slowed it down and crossed half court, trying to settle into the flow. He had not played much tonight, coming in behind Kidd and Deron, and Chen Yan read it immediately. The second Paul stepped over the line, Chen Yan closed the space like a door slamming shut.
He was not going to give Paul time to warm up.
Chen Yan's pressure was sharp and direct, and with his hands as active as they were, every dribble felt unsafe. Paul tried a crossover to slip the reach. Chen Yan adjusted his feet and stayed square, chest in front, arms wide.
The half court line sat right behind Paul like a trap.
One careless retreat and it was a backcourt violation.
Chen Yan saw that hesitation and attacked it. He reached again, quick and clean.
Slap.
A live steal, straight 1 on 1.
The ball popped loose and Chen Yan had it.
The arena erupted, because for most of the night the highlight reel steals had belonged to Team USA. Now China had one of their own, and it came from their star taking the ball off an NBA guard in open space.
Paul turned and sprinted back. He was the last man, and he fought to recover, but effort could not solve a problem like height.
Chen Yan rose from beyond the arc and let it fly right over him.
The ball tracked perfectly.
Swish.
73 to 72.
Wukesong exploded into pure noise, the kind that shakes metal and makes your chest vibrate. Two straight 3s, both difficult, both fearless.
In the stands, Chen Yan's parents stood with everyone else, shouting until their voices cracked. Watching their son wear the national jersey and control the game like this, in Beijing, it hit different.
Team USA felt it too. A 1 point game was not supposed to happen here.
They answered with Carmelo Anthony isolating from the left side near the elbow. He pumped, jabbed, showed the ball, then rose into a mid range jumper.
Clang.
No touch.
Wang Zhizhi secured the rebound and saw Chen Yan already streaking up the floor. He fired a long outlet.
Chen Yan caught it and pushed. Team USA did not dare to retreat too deep. He was hot from 3, and they were not giving him another clean pull up.
So Chen Yan adjusted to their adjustment.
He hit a second burst and knifed straight into the paint.
Only Dwyane Wade stayed with him.
They went up together, and for a moment it was pure talent on talent. China could not match Team USA across the roster, but Chen Yan did not need a roster to win a jump.
He rose higher, powered through, and hammered a 1 handed dunk right on Wade.
Boom.
73 to 74.
8 straight points.
China had the lead.
The building went insane. The dunk had that brutal clarity that even casual fans understand immediately. Wade took it, landed, and said nothing, because there was nothing to say.
Chen Yan finally let the emotion show. He slammed his fist toward the baseline camera, then jogged back waving his arms, pulling the crowd up louder and louder, turning the arena into a weapon.
Coach K had no choice.
Timeout.
…
China's bench poured onto the floor around Chen Yan. High fives, chest bumps, quick shouts in his ear. Before tipoff, nobody on that roster would have dared to imagine they would be leading Team USA in the 3rd quarter.
A lot of fans had come in hoping for a respectable loss. Some had even talked about saving energy for later games.
That kind of thinking sounded practical, but it was poison. If you roll over in the opener, you do not carry momentum into anything. You carry damage.
And Chen Yan did not know how to quit, not on an Olympic floor, not in his home country. He did not play with the idea of surrender anywhere in his mind. From the opening whistle, he had exactly 1 thought, play with pride, play with fire, no matter who is in front of you.
When the timeout ended, China kept the same lineup.
Team USA shuffled the deck, because Coach K had more cards than anyone. Anthony, Paul, and Wade sat. Bosh, Kidd, and Kobe checked in.
Fresh legs. Fresh edge.
China came out in a 3 2 zone, clearly trying to wall off the perimeter and force everything into crowded driving lanes. Team USA's bread and butter was still transition and rim pressure, and this look was meant to slow the first step.
Kobe used a screen anyway and attacked. Even with a set defense, China could not keep him out. He slipped through the seam between Wang Zhizhi and Yi Jianlian and finished with a slick reverse.
75 to 74.
Coach K exhaled on the sideline. If that possession had stalled too, he would have been calling another timeout immediately.
China took the ball.
Team USA pressed full court again.
This time Sun Dasheng handled it. The pace was brutal, and Jonas could not ask Chen Yan to bring it up every single trip without draining him dry.
Kidd and Kobe trapped Sun near the sideline.
Sun panicked.
He threw a rushed pass, and LeBron James read it like he was standing in the huddle.
Steal.
LeBron took 1 dribble, gathered, and went into his steps like a freight train rolling downhill.
1 step.
He powered into the restricted area and smashed it down, roaring as he landed, the kind of roar that usually ends arguments.
Then a whistle cut through the sound.
LeBron turned, confused, eyebrows raised.
The lead official spun his fists in front of his chest.
Travel.
LeBron just stared for a beat, then shrugged, genuinely baffled. In the NBA, that sequence almost never got called on a star of his level.
But this was international basketball.
No shortcuts. No special treatment.
And Team USA had just learned, in the loudest building in the tournament, that the rules here did not care about anyone's reputation.
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