Chapter 320: A One on One Game With Kobe
The fans could feel it.
Chen Yan's bounce, his hang time, the way he moved in the air, it all looked even more outrageous than before.
Kobe jogged the ball into the frontcourt with his usual poker face.
As he crossed half court, he blew on his right hand, then raised both arms to flash a familiar set of signals.
Clear out. Everybody move.
"Clear out, isolation coming, Kobe wants 1 on 1!"
Before the crowd could even react, Chen Yan's voice cut across the floor.
Kobe glanced over, confused, and Chen yelled straight at him.
"I know that signal. I have been studying you for a long time. I already see through you."
For a moment, Kobe had no words.
It was the first time he had run into a defender who called out his own hand signs to his face.
But Chen was not wrong. That gesture did mean isolation.
It was not a hard one to memorize, not after watching hours of Lakers game tape in the hotel.
Kobe's expression hardened again after 2 seconds.
At the top of the arc, he took the pass from Fisher.
Raja Bell locked in on him. He knew what was coming. This possession was Kobe versus whoever stood in front of him.
Kobe pounded the dribble, then attacked.
Bang.
The instant Raja tried to slide with him, it felt like he had run into a brick wall.
Raja's face said everything.
No screen?
Where was the help?
Had Kobe turned dirty now, too?
Not exactly.
Kobe did want a pure 1 on 1.
He just did not want it with Raja Bell.
On the weak side, James Posey slid in and set a screen. The Suns switched, and when Raja peeled off, Chen Yan stepped up.
Now Kobe had what he wanted.
The fire in his eyes flared.
This was the matchup, the man in the number 0 Suns jersey who had just thrown down that ridiculous reverse glide dunk.
Kobe's competitiveness was almost pathological. That dunk had embarrassed him. He needed a response.
"Bust him."
"Kobe, teach that rookie a lesson."
"Show him what real 1 on 1 looks like."
The fans at Staples stayed loud. They had not liked Chen's swagger from the moment he walked into the league.
Kobe rocked the ball between his legs, shifting to his left hand.
Chen did not dare crowd too tight or concede too much space. He knew how deep Kobe's bag was.
Pull ups. Step backs. Crossovers into jumpers. Left and right foot pivots. Head fakes, shoulder fakes, pump fakes, all chained together, all able to turn into a drive, a dunk, or a foul.
And if help came, Kobe could hang in the air, reverse, flip in something off the glass, or draw contact and live at the line.
This time, he chose the other weapon that made him so brutal. The post.
Bang.
Bang.
At the 45 degree mark on the left side of the free throw line, Kobe powered into Chen's chest and began backing him down.
He was one of the few perimeter players who could post from that far out.
Part of it was his range. If he turned and rose from there, it was still a comfortable jumper.
The rest was his handle. Kobe's left and right were both so tight that off the post, he could spin either way, rock back, or step through, and a defender could never fully sit on a single option.
That was why he had no fear posting against bigger bodies, even stars like LeBron.
After 2 heavy bumps, Kobe froze, half turning as if to fade.
Instead, he suddenly snapped the ball down, dragging it forward into a jump step.
He landed with both feet at once, his habit. Even if the defender stayed attached, that footwork meant he still had a pivot to work with, a second and third move waiting.
Chen stayed locked in and stayed with the first step.
Then Kobe spun the other way.
The true Mamba step.
Chen's center of gravity shifted the wrong direction for half a beat. It was enough.
Kobe rose up into a midrange, Chen's hand arriving a fraction late.
Swish.
7 to 2.
Kobe had the Lakers' first points.
"Great defense, better shot," Kenny Smith said on the TNT broadcast.
"That is just experience right there," Charles Barkley added. "Kobe has been in this league for 12 years. For Chen to even stay on that first move, that is big time. A regular guy would have been on the floor watching from the paint."
Back on offense, the Suns crossed half court, and this time Chen ran off the ball into the frontcourt.
Waiting for him was Kobe.
Nash brought it up and swung it his way without hesitation.
He had seen enough over a season. When Chen's rhythm was like this, you did not overthink. You fed him.
Chen caught and immediately signaled. Isolation.
Kobe waved James Posey away and called for the switch. He did not just want to score on Chen. He wanted to guard him too.
Kobe's goal was simple, to crack Chen's confidence.
The moment Chen put the ball on the floor, Kobe turned up the pressure.
He shaded hard, forcing everything toward Chen's left.
He wanted him finishing and creating with his weaker hand.
Kobe did not gamble for steals or chase big chase down blocks the way some wings did. His strength was constant, suffocating pressure. Every dribble, every angle, contested.
His stamina made it possible. Kobe's legendary 6 6 6 regimen, 6 hours a day, 6 segments of training, 6 days a week, had built an engine that never seemed to run out of fuel.
More importantly, he defended with his brain and his feet.
Against Chen, his footwork was nothing but short, choppy slides, both feet gliding without crossing.
If you used traditional cross steps against a quick scorer, any sudden stop could leave you needing an extra step to recover, and that extra step was all a guy like Chen needed.
With this low, sliding stance, Kobe stayed attached without overcommitting.
Bang.
Bang.
Chen dribbled left to right, then right to left, looking for even a crack in the defense, but Kobe's sudden spike in intensity completely jammed his rhythm.
Slap.
Kobe stabbed in with his right hand and knocked the ball loose.
Chen reacted instantly, leaning his body into Kobe to shield the ball, taking a hard step back to chase it down and regain control.
When he finally corralled it, the shot clock showed 6.
"5."
"4."
"3."
Kobe started counting out loud, voice booming.
It was pressure, pure and simple, a little piece of psychological warfare to make Chen rush.
Under that countdown, Chen rose from 1 step behind the 3 point line.
Divine pull up jumper.
Kobe lunged, arm extended.
The ball brushed off his fingertips.
Swish.
Chen buried it anyway.
The shot was flat out unreasonable, and Kobe could not help but shake his head as it dropped through.
"I like shooting on a countdown," Chen shouted back at him as he jogged to the other end.
"Lucky shot," Kobe fired back. "You will not have that luck next time."
The 1 on 1 did not stop with the ball. It carried over into their mouths.
The Lakers went back to Kobe again.
This time he isolated at the baseline with Chen in front of him.
Chen read the first move perfectly. He shaded him into a dead angle, hands up, feet moving, giving him almost no room to rise.
Kobe pumped once. Twice. Then, with barely any separation, he simply went straight up and pulled the trigger anyway.
Chen's contest was there.
The net barely moved.
Swish.
10 to 4.
It felt almost identical to Chen's last possession, a bad shot for most players, a normal shot for them.
To the casual eye, both jumpers were wild. To anyone who had watched their seasons, this was just who they were. Both had the ability to hit shots that broke normal rules.
Phoenix came down again.
The Lakers crowd dropped into a rolling "Defense" chant.
Chen and Kobe squared up at the wing once more.
"It is turning into their personal 1 on 1 game," Kenny said, a smile in his voice.
"And I am here for it," Barkley laughed. "If these 2 want to go back and forth all night, that is great television."
This time, Chen had adjusted to Kobe's increased pressure. He was no longer rattled by the force of the defense.
Kobe still tried to shade him left, crowding his right hand.
Chen refused to be steered. A series of wide, violent crossovers suddenly opened a sliver of space.
He exploded with his right, and Kobe slid with him, still in phase.
Just as Kobe shifted his weight, Chen hit a hard drop step crossover back the other way.
Secondary acceleration.
He shot through the gap like a race car cutting the inside line of a mountain switchback.
By the time Kobe tried to recover, all he could do was chase.
Chen hit the free throw line and rose.
Garnett rotated over, arms high, that huge defensive radius suddenly in front of him.
Chen did not flinch.
He rocked into a controlled fadeaway, pulling up over Garnett's outstretched arm.
Swish.
Perfect rhythm, clean release, pure net.
Chen could not fully shut Kobe down, and Kobe could not fully shut him down. Through these possessions, they were essentially trading blows.
Their styles, though, could not have been more different.
Kobe was stripped down, ruthless efficiency, simple moves from impossible angles, using timing and psychology more than flash.
Chen was color and fire, crossovers, speed bursts, and vertical explosions, turning every possession into a highlight reel audition.
On the sideline, D Antoni kept clapping, his expression bright.
The loss in Game 1 had forced him to reinvent the game plan.
Before Game 2, he had given Chen a direct, simple assignment. Forget everything else. Do not hesitate. Be the finisher.
So far, his ace was delivering exactly what he had asked for.
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