Chapter 290: Elbow to Bowen, Mid Range Answer
Chen Yan had pitched the "Hack the Shark" variation to the coaching staff during practice the day before.
The idea was simple. Sending Bruce Bowen to the line was like spinning a wheel. If he went 1 of 2, the Suns basically broke even on the possession. If he missed both, Phoenix was getting the ball back for free.
The downside was obvious. It dragged the game out and made the product on the floor even uglier.
But with the way the Spurs were already strangling the pace, the game was ugly anyway.
D'Antoni and his staff eventually agreed. If San Antonio was going to toss the so called code of conduct aside with all their off ball tricks and slowdown tactics, then the Suns did not need to act like saints.
Besides, the Spurs were one of the original teams to weaponize intentional fouling. Every time they faced Shaquille O'Neal in the playoffs, they leaned into it. If Don Nelson was the mad scientist who invented the concept, the old man on the Spurs sideline was the one who perfected it.
Tonight, though, that same old man was watching his own player become the target. His expression was tight and far from pleased.
…
Out of a baseline inbound, Manu Ginobili slapped the ball into play.
Trying to avoid being hacked again, Bowen sprinted straight to the weak side corner and tried to disappear.
Eric Piatkowski tracked him the whole way.
"You are 6 feet tall and hiding in a corner," he muttered under his breath. "You really think I cannot see you?"
He wrapped Bowen up the moment he tried to plant.
"Beep!"
The whistle cut through the noise.
Bowen trudged back to the free throw line.
"This thing is turning from basketball into a strange little game of chicken," Kenny said from the booth, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But at least it is waking this building up."
Spurs fans were not amused.
"You are trash!"
"You are only out there to foul people!"
"Get off the floor, you are disgusting!"
They showered Piatkowski with every insult they could think of.
Chen Yan jogged over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Good work, man," Chen said. "Ignore the spit in the stands. We are cutting into the lead. You are a big part of that."
Piatkowski nodded. His teammate's backing settled him down.
Bowen bounced the ball at the stripe, exhaled, and let the first one go.
"Bang."
Off the rim.
Second shot.
"Swish."
He split them again, 1 of 2.
Bowen was starting to look frayed. The more he tried to calm himself, the more his mechanics betrayed the tension.
On the next defensive trip, he finally snapped.
He did not go after Chen. He went after Steve Nash.
Reason was simple. Bowen had already felt Chen's fist once in the regular season. He had no interest in reliving that memory.
Nash curled off a screen, turning the corner with the ball, back exposed for just a second. Bowen slid in from the wing and stuck his foot out across Nash's path.
Nash's leg caught, his body pitched forward, and he crashed to the floor with a shout.
On the replay, it looked even nastier. Nash's calf was fully extended, all his momentum going forward when Bowen clipped him from the side. It was the kind of cheap shot that could have turned into a fractured leg.
Chen and Amar'e were on Bowen in an instant.
Stoudemire jabbed a finger toward Bowen's face, unleashing a stream of curses. Chen stepped in even closer, chest to chest, making it very clear this was not going to slide.
Spurs players rushed over to form a wall around their teammate.
The arena drowned in boos and noise.
Before it could explode into something worse, the officials wedged themselves between both sides. Nash, gritting his teeth, waved his teammates back and signaled he could still go.
He rubbed his thigh, limped to the line, and took his free throws.
"Swish."
First one dropped.
"Bang."
Second one kicked off the rim and sailed long.
Chen had already read the bounce and was sprinting in from beyond the three point line.
Bowen boxed out early and got both hands on the ball, but Chen was not done.
He exploded around to the front, slid across Bowen's body, and drove his elbow straight into him as he turned.
Bowen crumpled to the floor. Anyone with decent vision could see what had just happened.
That elbow was payback for Nash.
Watching at home, Kobe Bryant could not help but laugh.
He had given Chen a masterclass on how to attack the Spurs defense. He was pretty sure he had left the "elbow seminar" out of the lesson plan.
The whistle sent Chen to his third personal foul and Bowen back to the free throw line yet again.
Chen did not flinch. The game plan was to keep Bowen living at the stripe. If it cost Chen a foul, so be it.
He had managed his fouls well all night and was only sitting on 2 before that play. There was room to spend 1.
Bowen took a long breath and, for once, found his rhythm.
"Swish."
"Swish."
Both free throws went down. Rare.
Even so, Gregg Popovich stood on the sideline and seriously considered yanking him.
No matter how many he hit, having Bowen at the line over and over was killing the flow for his own team.
Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Ginobili had gone several minutes without really touching the ball in rhythm. They were standing around watching Bowen's free throw routine, then jogging back on defense cold. It was bound to mess with their timing.
…
On the next Suns possession, Nash walked it up and swung the ball to Chen on the wing.
Chen cut hard toward the corner.
Raja Bell popped open for a moment, caught the pass, and had a clean look from three.
He hesitated.
His shooting had been off all night. He had not hit a single three pointer so far, and the doubt showed in that tiny pause.
The window vanished. Raja immediately swung the ball to Diaw instead.
Diaw lifted to the high post and caught it in stride.
Even before the ball hit his hands, he had already mapped the floor. It was one of his gifts, the way he processed angles and spacing in real time.
He fired the pass to Chen and, in the same motion, stepped back into Bowen's path, using his body as a moving shield.
Chen caught it just outside the arc.
Fabricio Oberto raced over on the switch, stretching his arms as wide as possible to take away the three and wall off the drive.
The Spurs scouting report was obvious. Against Chen, the priority was still to take away the three ball and the rim. If he wanted long twos, they would live with that.
It was not that they thought he could not make them. It was pure math. Long twos were the least efficient shot on the floor compared to layups and threes.
Chen did not care about their math.
He gave Oberto a sharp shot fake, waited for the big to rock his weight forward, then slid 1 step inside the three point line.
Pull up.
Rise.
Release.
All in one smooth motion.
"Swish."
Pure.
The ball dropped clean through the net.
Here we go again.
Viewers in front of their televisions lit up.
"There is another mid range."
"Man, Chen is living in that area tonight."
"Feels like I am watching Kobe in a Suns jersey."
"Or Jordan going to work on the elbows."
Everyone knew Chen had a mid range game, but he rarely leaned on it this heavily in a single night. Seeing him carve the Spurs up from that spot caught a lot of people off guard.
On the sideline, Popovich finally had enough.
"Timeout!"
He signaled for a 20 second timeout, knowing he had to find a new answer for Chen's mid range clinic.
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