Chapter 441: Anger Is the Best Catalyst
Chen Yan sprinted up toward the top of the arc, with Trevor Ariza glued to his hip, denying every cut and every angle.
Phil Jackson was clearly pleased. The Zen Master rewarded Ariza's effort with more minutes. With his size, wingspan, and quick spring, Ariza brought the rare combination of length and speed that matched Chen Yan better than James Posey ever could.
Chen Yan gave Ariza a light shove to create a sliver of separation, circled back, and Nash dropped a soft lob into his hands. The timing was perfect. Their chemistry created daylight the moment Chen Yan touched it.
He took a half step back with his right foot. Ariza lunged.
Chen Yan rose from beyond the arc.
The ball kissed the inside of the rim and fell through.
47 all.
"For threeeeee!" the arena DJ dragged the call out, trying to shake the roof loose.
"Chen Yan's rhythm is coming back," Kenny Smith said. "Great off ball work, and Nash finds him right where he wants it."
Barkley laughed. "Ariza still ain't tight enough. Put Kobe on him. That's what the people came for."
While jogging back, Ariza barked at the nearest official, arguing that the little push before the shot should have been a foul. The referee stared straight through him and said nothing.
Home floor. Christmas stage. Nobody was eager to turn this into a whistle parade.
On the other end, Raja Bell picked Kobe up near half court, crowding him, bumping him, refusing to let him catch comfortably. Kobe used a Camby off ball screen to finally shake loose, and Fisher delivered the pass.
Phoenix did not switch. Bell chased over the screen while the other Suns pinched the paint, daring Kobe to settle.
Kobe read it instantly, took 1 lateral dribble, rose, and buried a 3.
50 to 47.
That was Kobe, pure and simple. Old school pride. If you cut him, he came back with a blade.
He pointed to Ariza on the retreat and signaled a switch.
When the boss spoke, Ariza obeyed immediately, sliding off Chen Yan and letting Kobe take the assignment.
Nash crossed half court, eyes up, ready to feed the hot hand.
Kobe was ready, too.
He denied Chen Yan like it was personal. Every cut got bumped. Every route got yanked. Kobe even sniffed out Chen Yan's attempt to use a big man screen and met him early, body to body, hands active, feet sharp. When Kobe locked in on defense, the pressure was not just mental, it was physical.
Chen Yan's jersey got tugged so many times it nearly looked like it was being peeled off.
And Chen Yan was not innocent either.
His elbows kept finding Kobe's chest, hard and deliberate. The 2 of them tangled like they were fighting for oxygen, not position. The crowd stopped watching the ball and started watching the wrestling match.
It is hard not to.
"Beep! Beep!"
Finally, the whistle came. Double foul.
The official looked exhausted already, like he was worried he would need to reserve a separate arena if this kept escalating.
Phoenix kept the ball in the frontcourt. The shot clock reset to 14 seconds.
Chen Yan went to the sideline to inbound, fired it to Stoudemire, then immediately cut to him for a handoff. Stoudemire flipped it back, and Chen Yan settled with the ball tucked behind his back in 1 hand.
Kobe stared at him.
Chen Yan stared right back.
Kenny's voice dropped a little, enjoying the moment. "Look at this. Neither one rushing. They both waiting for the first mistake."
The floor spaced out. Nash and Raja Bell drifted to the corners. Diaw and Stoudemire hovered along the edge of the paint. As soon as Chen Yan saw the lane open, he went to work.
Cross under, cross under, each dribble loaded with rhythm.
Kobe kept reaching, showing his hand like he was hunting the steal, probing for a tell.
Chen Yan did not bite. He protected the ball and kept the cadence, patient, steady.
7 seconds on the shot clock.
Chen Yan sharpened the fakes, snapped a massive crossover from right to left, forcing Kobe's weight to shift, then shrugged his shoulder and exploded back to the right while keeping the ball in his left hand for an instant longer.
"Crossover!" Barkley shouted. "That big one!"
Chen Yan took 1 step to the right, his foot landing right on the 3 point line, and rose immediately.
He did not force the shot. He simply shot the moment the rhythm felt perfect.
Kobe launched at him, pushing hard off his right foot.
His fingertips grazed the ball.
It flew anyway.
"Swish!"
Clean. Pure. Loud.
50 to 49.
"Three straight makes for Chen Yan," Kenny said. "This is what elite scorers do. You let them find the touch, they punish you for it."
Kobe's eyes narrowed. The annoyance was obvious.
"I got you figured out," he snapped. "I know what you're doing next."
Chen Yan shot back without blinking. "Then why didn't you stop it?"
Kobe clenched his jaw and walked toward the other end with that familiar look, the one that meant he was about to turn the game into a personal argument.
Los Angeles came down and Kobe demanded the ball on the right wing, near the horn. Chen Yan read it immediately. He left Ariza and sprinted over to trap.
He looped hard from the wing, trying to take away Kobe's turn.
Kobe had seen double teams his entire career. He did not panic.
1 quick dribble, then he spun the other way.
Raja Bell and Chen Yan both lunged, arms high, trying to smother the shot window.
Kobe faded anyway, the lean exaggerated, the release higher than necessary, just to clear both contests.
The defenders collided into him as he let it go, knocking him down the moment the ball left his hands.
Kobe fell, then stayed down for half a beat, neck stretched as he tracked the shot like it was the only thing in the world.
The ball hit the backboard.
"Bang!"
Then dropped straight through.
"Swish!"
And one.
Kobe punched his fist and growled, every ounce of frustration turning into fuel.
Chen Yan stood there, chest rising, eyes hot.
Both of them were fully lit now.
Anger could make players reckless, sure.
But for the rare ones, the truly great ones, it was the best catalyst.
It dragged their competitive form out of hiding, and forced it into the spotlight.
.....
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