Chapter 223: Tying Jordan's Record
Chen Yan attempt to tie Michael Jordan's record of seven consecutive triple-doubles.
Reporters called it what it was — the Chen Yan Effect.
Milwaukee's stars, Michael Redd and Mo Williams, were livid.
A sold-out home game was supposed to be their night, not a visiting rookie's showcase. Seeing so many fans cheering for someone else made their pride sting. But deep down, they couldn't blame anyone but themselves.
The Bucks were third from the bottom in the Eastern Conference, 10.5 games behind the eighth-place Hawks and already out of playoff contention. With little star appeal and no real identity, fan enthusiasm had long disappeared.
Now, Chen Yan had brought it roaring back — for the wrong team.
---
The lineups appeared on the big screen.
Suns: Chen Yan, Raja Bell, Azubuike, Diaw, Stoudemire.
Bucks: Mo Williams, Michael Redd, Desmond Mason, Villanueva, and Jack Voskuhl.
Milwaukee's starting center, Andrew Bogut, was out with an ankle injury sustained in their previous matchup. From his seat in the stands, he could only watch.
As both teams took the floor, the jump ball was tossed up.
Amar'e Stoudemire leapt a beat late, and Voskuhl tapped it back — Bucks' possession.
Mo Williams brought the ball up, calling a quick set for Redd.
Redd curled off a screen, took a single dribble, and launched a baseline three from forty-five degrees.
"Swish!"
The net snapped clean.
Redd slapped hands with Mo Williams and glared at Chen Yan.
He had made up his mind before tipoff — he was going to prove to this rookie that Milwaukee still had its own star.
---
Phoenix's turn.
Chen Yan calmly dribbled past half court.
Diaw set a solid screen near the top, and Chen glided left, stopping on a dime for a pull-up jumper.
"Swish!"
Nothing but net.
The Suns' bench jumped up, holding three fingers aloft in unison. Even the injured players had come to cheer him on.
Grant Hill sat on crutches, smiling.
Barnes, still recovering from his stitches courtesy of James's elbow, wore a thick headband.
Nash looked fine from the stands — at least back injuries didn't affect one's fashion sense.
"Wow, what a response! Chen Yan answers immediately!" the TNT commentator shouted.
Beside him, the co-commentator added,
"That's classic Chen Yan. He scores first, then uses his gravity to free his teammates. The Bucks will have to guard every inch of the floor tonight."
It felt like everyone already assumed Phoenix would take this one easily.
Fans across the world nodded along, convinced Chen's hot start meant another masterpiece was coming.
They were wrong.
---
That three-pointer was Chen Yan's only make from beyond the arc in the first half.
He went one for seven from deep. His other numbers looked solid — six assists, five rebounds — but his shooting was ice cold.
In the second half, he tried to reignite his rhythm. After threading a perfect lob that Stoudemire hammered down, Chen launched three more threes in a row.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
All misses.
One for ten.
Ten percent from deep.
Chen exhaled sharply, frustrated.
So this is what the "Mamba Mentality" felt like?
He muttered under his breath, "This mentality's a scam."
Online, fans started grumbling.
"Man, he's ice cold tonight!"
"He's gonna crack the backboard if he keeps shooting!"
"Chen's turned into an ice archer instead of a shooter!"
"I skipped work to watch this? Come on!"
With his rise to stardom, expectations for Chen had skyrocketed.
Fans wanted perfection every night, especially those back home.
One bad quarter — even one off shooting night — was enough to make social media explode.
The truth was, Chen had been remarkably consistent all season. His numbers rarely dipped, his effort never faltered.
But tonight, the rim had turned against him.
Every shooter knows that feeling — when no matter how perfect the release, the ball refuses to fall. Even the greatest, even Jordan himself, had nights like this.
Chen didn't lose faith. He told himself the next one would drop.
But with Phoenix trailing, he couldn't afford to keep experimenting.
He glanced up at the scoreboard.
Suns 55 — Bucks 64.
The lead was growing.
If he didn't adjust, they'd be buried.
He clenched his jaw, dribbled once, and made a decision.
The jumpers weren't falling tonight — fine.
Then he'd attack the rim.
The streak, the record, the noise — none of that mattered now.
What mattered was bringing the Suns back from the brink.
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