Chapter 117: Dancing on the Floor, Is the Friendship Boat About to Capsize?
On the court, both teams rolled out their second units.
Surprisingly, the Celtics' bench was making a push.
Delonte West, Calderon, Gerald Green, Garbajosa, and Kris Humphries—these guys weren't scrubs. On a weaker team, any one of them could start. They moved the ball unselfishly and ran a more structured offense than the starters.
It made sense. The Celtics' starting lineup revolved too much around giving Durant the ball to help him rack up stats. That kind of system threw the team's offensive rhythm out of whack.
End of the first quarter: Suns 26, Celtics 19.
The Suns entered the second quarter with a 7-point cushion.
Second unit vs. second unit—battle of the benches.
But Boston couldn't close the gap. Suns coach Mike D'Antoni made a quick rotation call and brought in Chen Yan.
And just like that, the dynamic changed.
Chen came off a high screen, forced a switch, and calmly drained a three right in Delonte West's face.
West had no chance—he was shorter, had a smaller wingspan, and couldn't get high enough to contest.
Next possession, after a Boston miss, Chen led the break and dropped a no-look dime to Azubuike for a thunderous dunk!
From the sidelines, Celtics head coach Doc Rivers immediately noticed the shift in energy. The Suns with Chen Yan on the floor were a completely different animal.
Chen didn't just score—he ran the offense, made plays, elevated everyone around him.
Azubuike, Grant Hill, Matt Barnes, and J.J. Barea all thrived with Chen creating space and drawing double teams. The Suns' bench started to cook—fluid, efficient, dangerous.
Rivers had to act fast. He subbed Durant and Tony Allen back in—one to bring offense, the other for perimeter D—to try and slow the Suns' roll.
Score: Suns 34, Celtics 22.
Boston ball.
Durant isolated on the wing against Azubuike. He faked left, stopped on a dime, and pulled up.
Swish. Clean jumper. That's KD's comfort zone. Azubuike was solid, but he didn't have the defensive instincts or discipline of Raja Bell. He gave up too much room, and Durant made him pay.
Phoenix inbounded. Barea pushed it past half court and passed to Chen.
Barea might've been the listed point guard, but everyone knew who was running the show.
Chen sized up Tony Allen. Calm. No rush. He raised one hand, signaling the play. Azubuike came up to set the screen.
Standard pick-and-roll. The switch came, and now it was Durant guarding Chen.
Chen preferred this matchup. He and KD were college teammates—he knew all of Durant's defensive habits and flaws.
But that cut both ways. KD knew Chen just as well.
Chen didn't go to his signature shake. Instead, he shuffled left with tight, quick steps—not wide slides, just little side-steps. He was baiting Durant.
It was deliberate. Durant's long legs made it hard for him to stay with tight lateral movement. He liked big slides. Those small steps forced him to adjust, and with every adjustment, KD's defensive coverage shrank.
Then, bang—Chen hit the turbo.
Durant hesitated just a beat—and that was all Chen needed.
Half a step. That's all it takes for elite players to break free.
Chen burst past KD, attacked the lane, and hit the free throw line in stride.
Humphries stepped up to help—arms up, legs set. He wasn't dating Kim K yet, but his athleticism was no joke.
Didn't matter.
Chen crossed him up so hard the man almost spun around. When Humphries slid his feet to recover, Chen switched directions mid-stride.
BOOM! One-handed slam.
Suns 36, Celtics 22.
Humphries got cooked. He wasn't just beat—he looked dizzy.
From the bench, he'd seen flashes of Chen's speed in the first quarter, but this was the real thing. And it was faster than he ever expected.
In the broadcast booth, Zhang Weiping couldn't help but yell.
"Great move! Chen spun in like a damn top!"
Yu Jia chuckled beside him.
"You can't even blame Humphries. The man tried. Chen's just too quick."
Celtics ball.
Durant brought it up—but Chen trapped him instantly. Double team. Textbook.
Durant was still young—he had the tools, but breaking traps wasn't his strength yet.
Under pressure, he backpedaled and forced a pass to Gerald Green on the weak side. Bad pass—nearly a turnover.
Green corralled it, turned, and attacked the rim.
Chen released Durant and rotated quickly.
He knew Green well. Nine fingers or not, the guy had springs for legs—top-three vertical in the league. Pure dunker energy.
Letting him gather momentum? Big mistake.
So Chen didn't wait—he struck early.
"Smack!"
He poked the ball loose just as Green took his first step. Ball stripped clean.
Green was frozen—he didn't even have time to react.
The ball bounced free, right between Durant and Chen.
50-50 ball.
Chen had speed. Durant had reach. Neither backed down.
They dove. Hard.
Two former Texas Longhorns, two good friends off the court—now rolling on the hardwood, scrapping for a loose ball like it was Game 7 of the Finals.
That's how the league works.
Brotherhood off the court. War on the floor.
It got wild. Arms flailing, jerseys tangled, both guys spinning on the floor like breakdancers.
The crowd was stunned.
"Wait… they're friends?! Man, they look like enemies right now!"
"That friendship boat's got a big ol' hole in it!"
"Damn, they're going at it. Respect."
"Chen and KD really out here doing breaking instead of ballin'!"
For some reason, the fans back home loved it. The chaos, the hustle—it hit different.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!"
Ref whistles finally blew. If they hadn't stepped in, it looked like these two were ready to throw hands.
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