Chapter 460: A Verbal Battle With Durant's Mom
The hit was not that heavy. Durant stayed down for a moment, grit his teeth through the sting, and after a short struggle, the pain finally faded.
Just as he started to sit up, a large hand appeared in front of him.
Durant looked up.
It was not a teammate.
It was Chen Yan, wearing that clean, innocent smile like he had done nothing wrong.
Chen Yan reached out out of instinct, pure habit, a brotherly gesture.
Durant did not read it that way.
Sensitive as always, he felt like it was a tease, like Chen Yan was offering him a hand just to remind him who had put him on the floor.
He hesitated.
Then, as if swallowing the bitterness with the same motion, Durant took the hand and stood.
That was Durant's style. He stored everything inside, locked the door, and pretended there was nothing behind it.
Chen Yan stepped to the line and knocked down the free throw.
On TNT, Barkley chuckled. "7 to 0. Phoenix came out swinging."
Kenny Smith glanced at the sheet in his hand. "They do this a lot. By the numbers, the Suns have held the lead in over 80 percent of their games this season. They start fast and they keep the tempo high."
Down 7, Boston did not panic at all.
That was the advantage of a young roster. They did not fear the moment, and they did not get timid when the scoreboard leaned the wrong way.
…
Boston's possession.
Rose brought it over half court and handed it to Durant.
Durant's temper was up now, and he went straight into a 1 on 1 against Raja Bell.
He jabbed left, sold the fake, then rose immediately for the jumper.
Simple. Direct. Almost stubborn.
Durant believed he had the height advantage, so even if he did not create separation, he could still shoot over the top.
He did not get his wish.
Raja Bell had been guarding elite scorers for years. Kobe. Wade. Names that lived in every scouting report. Durant had ridiculous talent, but in Bell's eyes, he was still a slightly more dangerous second year kid.
Bell read the pull up, anticipated the timing, and jumped early, contesting right into Durant's shooting window.
Durant was trapped midair. He could not add a counter move. He could only adjust the release at the last instant, breaking his rhythm.
The shot hit rim and kicked out.
Stoudemire secured the rebound and fired it to Chen Yan. Chen Yan took 2 dribbles, then zipped a diagonal pass to Nash.
Boston's backcourt coverage was empty.
Nash caught, pushed, and finished the layup.
9 to 0.
Phoenix scored again in transition, and the game dropped into the Suns' rhythm from the opening minute.
…
Boston's next trip.
This time Rose decided to take it himself.
Boston's offense was simple tonight. Durant and Rose would trade isolations, and when they wanted structure, they went to pick and roll after pick and roll.
Rose attacked Nash with force, leaning through contact and driving right.
Nash worked hard, sliding, staying attached as long as he could.
Near the elbow, Rose suddenly rose without warning.
Nash could only look up at the release.
That possession showed the physical gap in one clean snapshot.
Swish.
9 to 2.
Rose's pull up off speed was one of his signatures, that sudden spring from a full speed dribble. Most guards could not contest it cleanly.
TD Garden finally roared. Boston was on the board.
Phoenix inbounded quickly and looked to run again, but Boston got back in time and cut off the easy lane.
Nash steadied the pace and pulled them into a half court set.
Nash and Stoudemire flowed into their classic pick and roll. Chen Yan stayed on the wing, ready for the kickout.
Nash turned the corner, took 1 step, and flicked his right hand.
A one handed pass.
But it did not go to Chen Yan.
It went across to Raja Bell.
Boston's defense was shading hard toward Chen Yan. Forcing that pass would have been reckless. Nash had already read the floor the moment he drove.
Bell caught and fired.
Splash.
Everything was perfect, except for 1 detail.
Bell's front foot was on the 3 point line.
It counted as 2.
11 to 2.
…
Boston's next possession, they tried to play more collectively.
The ball moved around the perimeter for about 10 seconds, and then everyone on the floor silently agreed it was not worth the effort.
They tossed it back to Durant anyway.
Clear out. Isolation.
Raja Bell dropped his stance, eyes fixed on Durant's feet, still not treating him like a real problem.
Last season Durant had scored over 20 a game, but Bell believed the number came from volume as much as skill. In his mind, Durant was a tall, skinny jump shooter with limited counters.
Durant's first few possessions had reinforced that belief.
This one did not.
Durant put it down, went between the legs, floated left, then snapped a quick crossover back to the right.
His face up handle was sharper. The work from summer was obvious.
Bell felt the strain immediately.
How could someone that tall move like that?
Bell stayed with the footwork, but Durant's movements were wide, and the change of direction created a half step of separation anyway.
That was talent.
Not just height and bounce. Touch, coordination, handle, agility, those were talents too.
Bell realized he was out of position and fouled decisively, sending Durant to the line before it became worse.
Durant's first free throw clanked.
He was not shooting poorly because his form was broken.
He was shooting poorly because he was tight.
Sometimes the harder you try to prove something, the more your body betrays you.
Durant's mom saw it immediately.
She stood near the VIP seats and called out, loud enough to cut through the arena.
"Kevin, relax. Calm down. Treat it like practice. Just guide it in."
Durant looked toward her and nodded.
They had depended on each other since he was a kid. When his world shook, she was the foundation.
Since Durant joined Boston, she attended almost every game, and that was why people loved labeling him a mama's boy.
Chen Yan heard her and smiled toward the seats.
"Don't worry, Auntie," Chen Yan called, playful. "I'll be gentle with KD."
Durant's mom laughed and waved him off. "Chen, just watch. Kevin's going to find his touch real soon."
Chen Yan grinned. "If he does it too late, the game might already be over."
They traded jokes while Durant stood at the line.
Reporters near the baseline caught the exchange, and before the quarter could even breathe, the story was already writing itself.
Swish.
Durant hit the second free throw.
11 to 3.
His first point of the night.
…
Phoenix inbounded quickly again.
Boston could not sprint back on every possession, not with Glen Davis and Perkins on the floor. Those 2 slowed the pace just by existing.
Nash pushed the transition and threw a long pass to Chen Yan before crossing half court.
Chen Yan caught and attacked straight down the lane.
Too fast.
Tony Allen chased from behind and was already losing ground.
When Chen Yan hit that gear, only Rose on Boston's roster could really match the speed. Rose slid over from the wing to contest.
Chen Yan ignored him.
He kept dribbling, used his sprint momentum to create space, then jumped into a jump step layup with a reverse finish.
And he drew the foul.
The camera caught Rose's face as he turned, eyes showing a flash of helplessness.
That move, that jump step on the break, was Rose's favorite weapon.
Tonight, he had just watched someone else use it on him.
.....
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