Chapter 97: Shouting MVP! Breaking Chamberlain's Record!
That shot was clutch—pure ice in the veins. It not only steadied the Suns' momentum but stretched the lead back to four points.
On the jumbotron, Chen Yan's stat line updated: 53 points.
A new career-high.
Only 5 points shy of Wilt Chamberlain's all-time rookie single-game scoring record.
As soon as the stat flashed across the screen, the entire West Coast Arena erupted. Suns fans leapt to their feet, chanting his name at full volume.
Everyone wanted to witness history.
The Wizards brought the ball up, but the crowd wasn't letting up.
"FIFTY-EIGHT! FIFTY-EIGHT! FIFTY-EIGHT!"
The entire arena echoed the countdown.
Gilbert Arenas wasn't fazed. Coming off a high screen, he launched a tough three from the 45-degree angle—cash.
119–118.
Arenas didn't even blink. After bricking a critical shot earlier, this make felt like redemption.
Back on offense, Chen Yan motioned for the ball—he wanted the iso.
He could feel it now, from the deafening crowd to the big screen flashing the numbers: He was on the verge of breaking history.
Every superstar knows—records don't break themselves. You have to take them.
Steve Nash passed the rock to Chen two steps behind the arc.
Stoudemire rolled over to set a high screen.
After the pick-and-roll, the switch left Chen facing off against Brendan Haywood.
Instead of forcing it, Chen Yan took a few steps back, stopping at the three-point line. The fans could barely contain themselves—whistling, yelling, living for this moment.
They loved when Chen Yan danced with bigs. No center ever survived his crossover without risking a broken ankle.
Haywood remembered that lesson well—he'd already seen Arenas hit the deck twice on the wrong end of those moves.
So he played it smart—sat back around the free-throw line, daring Chen to shoot.
Chen looked at the gap, paused, then let it fly.
Swish.
122–118.
It looked easier than practice. Haywood gave him way too much space.
Wizards head coach Eddie Jordan immediately called a 20-second timeout. And before Haywood even reached the bench, he was already getting chewed out.
The other Wizards couldn't help but wonder if the entire timeout was just to flame Haywood...
Back on the Suns' bench, the energy was electric.
"Chen! I got you on the screen next play!"
"Shoot that thing, man! Don't hesitate!"
"I'll crash the boards! You just get your shot!"
Everyone was hyped. They wanted him to break the record. They wanted to be a part of history.
This wasn't one of those situations where the star hogs the ball to steal the spotlight. No ego, no drama—just brothers riding for each other.
Even Coach D'Antoni gave his silent approval. Opportunities like this don't come every night.
The timeout ended. Wizards ball.
Arenas tried to pull up for another deep three. This time, it fell short, clanging off the rim.
Haywood and Stoudemire battled for the rebound, but it bounced loose.
Antawn Jamison swooped in, grabbed the board, and finished with a left-handed putback off the glass.
122–120.
Baseline inbound, Suns.
Nash—usually the floor general—gave the ball up right away. He passed it straight to Chen.
With the ball in hand, Chen was covered with double screens from Stoudemire and Matt Barnes. Nash sprinted to the corner, spreading the floor and drawing defenders.
This was Chen's moment.
He stepped into a three from the right wing—clean release, perfect arc—
But just a bit strong.
The ball clanged off the front rim, ricocheted high.
"REBOUND!" D'Antoni screamed from the sideline.
Boris Diaw climbed over Jamison to snatch the offensive board. As he was falling out of bounds, he tossed it back to Nash.
Without even looking, Nash flicked a ridiculous behind-the-back dime—
Straight to Chen Yan. Wide open at the top of the arc.
The crowd held its breath.
But Chen didn't shoot. Instead, he gave a little jab, pump-faked.
Both Butler and Arenas bit hard and flew past him.
Chen blew by them, straight into the paint.
Jamison stepped up.
"Pull him down!" Arenas yelled. "Don't let him finish!"
Jamison obeyed—he grabbed Chen mid-air and yanked him back.
But just before losing balance, Chen flung the ball backward, almost blindly.
Passive [Juggling] Activated.
He crashed to the floor hard, not even sure if it went in.
Then—BOOM.
The crowd lost their minds.
"AND-ONE!! CHEN YAN!!" the arena DJ screamed at the top of his lungs—before his voice got swallowed up by the roar of the crowd.
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
It echoed through every section of the arena.
This was the highest praise any baller could get.
Chen had felt that once before—back in college. But this was different. This was the NBA.
The real MVP of the Suns—Steve Nash—stood grinning from the sideline. He didn't care who had the title.
"All I want is a ring," Nash thought. "If we get there, it'll be because of nights like this."
The crowd suddenly went silent as Chen stepped to the line.
Everyone knew what this free throw meant. A chance at history.
He dribbled. Bent his knees. Released.
Bang!
It hit the front rim—bounced up—and rolled in.
59 points.
Chen Yan just broke Wilt Chamberlain's rookie single-game scoring record.
Zhang Heli, broadcasting live from CCTV, had been hyped over the acrobatic layup and still hadn't realized what happened.
"Whoa! What a shot! That circus finish required insane core strength and touch—wait, what's this?" Zhang paused. "Ah! Just got a message from the producer!"
He nearly dropped his headset.
"Folks! Chen Yan has officially scored his 59th point—breaking Wilt Chamberlain's long-standing record of 58 points as a rookie!"
Now it wasn't just the arena. Fans across China were freaking out.
"Holy sh*t! Let's go!"
"Chen Yan ain't a rookie tonight!"
"He ain't human! Lock him up and run some tests!"
"Normally, you don't even mention Chamberlain's records—they're just too ridiculous. But Chen Yan just smashed one of them!"
"Monster breaks monster. Makes sense."
The infamous urine test jokes immediately flooded the chat again.
And if we're being honest, they'll probably follow Chen Yan for the rest of his career…
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