Chapter 328: G5 Begins, A Stage for 2
Lakers fans made sure the Suns felt it before they even reached Staples Center.
Phoenix's team bus got chased, boxed in, and slowed down by waves of people along the route. It was chaotic, obnoxious, and completely on brand for a rivalry like this. The Suns organization did not bother filing complaints. They had done their share of yelling and heckling in Phoenix too. This was the playoffs. Nobody was pretending it was polite.
Inside the locker room, Mike D'Antoni skipped the chalk talk for a moment and hit play.
He put on clips from Independence Day, the part where the president's speech hit like a locker room sermon.
"We will not go quietly into the night. We will not vanish without a fight. We're going to live on. We're going to survive."
That was exactly how Phoenix felt.
They had fought all season to get here, and they were not planning to bow out in the Western Conference Fi
nals. For veterans like Nash and Grant Hill, this year felt as close as it might ever get.
Right before the tunnel, Nash pulled the group in tight.
"Let go of the burden," he said. "Bring everything you've got."
Everyone understood what Game 5 meant. This battle decided the direction of the series.
As the huddle broke, Chen Yan quietly opened his system.
[Status Improvement Card] Purchase.
Honor Points decreased by 25.
[Status Enhancement Card] Use.
It was time to turn the cheat back on.
His goal was simple. Win.
The outside world had it right for once, Chen Yan was the Suns' key. If he did not play at a high level, winning in Los Angeles was a long shot. If they dropped this one, an entire season of work could evaporate in a week.
After the ceremony, the starters were announced.
Phoenix Suns: Steve Nash, Chen Yan, Raja Bell, Boris Diaw, Amar'e Stoudemire.
Los Angeles Lakers: Troy Hudson, Kobe Bryant, James Posey, Kevin Garnett, Kwame Brown.
For this one, Phil Jackson played it cautious. The hero of Game 4, Derek Fisher, started on the bench.
Jackson did not want Chen Yan hunting Fisher from the opening tip, using speed to blow up the defense and knife into the paint. That would wreck the Zen Master's plan before it even took shape.
Hudson was not exactly a lockdown defender either, but he was quick enough to avoid becoming an instant target. Fisher, meanwhile, swallowed his frustration. Getting benched right after hitting a game winner would sting anybody, but complaining would not help the locker room, and role players did not get to make demands.
On the TNT broadcast, Kenny Smith leaned forward in his chair.
"Alright, here we go. This is the one," he said. "Game 5, winner takes the driver's seat."
Charles Barkley nodded, eyes on the floor like he could feel the noise through the screen.
"This is pressure basketball," Barkley said. "And I'm telling you right now, the stars are gonna want the stage."
Kenny smirked. "We might be watching a 2 man show."
…
Tipoff.
Garnett muscled Stoudemire and won the jump.
Hudson secured it and immediately got it to Kobe.
Kobe crossed half court, lifted a hand, and called his shot without saying a word.
First possession, he wanted an isolation.
2 hard dribbles, a sharp change of direction, then a rise over Raja Bell from the mid range.
Swish.
First touch, first bucket.
Staples erupted like it had been waiting all day for permission to breathe.
"Defense!" "Defense!" "Defense!"
The chant crashed down as Nash brought it up.
Phoenix opened with a Nash and Stoudemire pick and roll. Stoudemire dove, Chen Yan drifted to the weak side perimeter. Nash saw both, but he fed Amar'e because the lane looked cleaner.
Stoudemire caught and went up strong.
Garnett met him with real force.
Bodies collided, Stoudemire floated it anyway.
Clang.
Garnett got enough of it. Kwame pulled the rebound and flipped it to Hudson. Kobe waved everyone down, no rushing, no freebies. Against Phoenix, you played steady or you got dragged into chaos.
Back at the top, Hudson did what he was there to do, bring it up and give it to Kobe.
Hudson's role looked like Fisher's, but the difference was shooting consistency. Fisher could be trusted. Hudson was a nerve test. Sometimes he was pure heat, sometimes he was pure smoke.
Kobe did not isolate this time. He called for a screen.
Garnett, grimacing and grabbing at his groin, still worked up to set it. If anybody else was screening, Phoenix could have trapped Kobe without regret. With Garnett, you could not leave him. Not ever.
That was why this action was poison.
Off the switch, Kobe rose from the top of the arc, no hesitation.
Swish.
4 straight points.
His eyes were cold now. Even the ball kid could tell it. Black Mamba had slipped into that place where the world got quiet.
Phoenix came down again, and the pressure finally got to them.
Nash tried to thread a pass, it clipped Raja Bell's thigh, and bounced out.
Turnover.
D'Antoni barked from the sideline for focus, for poise, for anything that sounded like control.
Kobe answered with another dagger.
This one came from the left side, curling off an off ball screen into a catch and fire 3.
Swish.
7 straight.
The building turned feral.
"That's it, Kobe!" "Keep firing!" "Bury them!" "Make them feel it!"
Kobe's heat poured gasoline on the crowd.
But Chen Yan was not about to let this turn into a solo concert.
Phoenix's next trip, Chen Yan planted himself at the left wing, 45 degrees, and demanded the ball with his hand out.
The Suns needed a spearhead. Now.
Nash delivered it, then cleared to the baseline. Raja Bell slid to the opposite corner. The floor opened wide.
Isolation.
The moment Chen Yan touched it, the arena got louder. He was a magnet for hate in Los Angeles.
And he loved it.
Pressure did not shrink him, it fed him. That was why he lived for game winners, why he smiled through boos.
He started with rhythm dribbles, between the legs, shoulder feints, the kind of handle that looked flashy but never wasted motion. A nightmare for defenders.
Posey locked in, but even locked in, he got rocked by the shake.
Chen Yan dribbled left, and the instant Posey's weight shifted, Chen Yan exploded forward and blew by him clean.
Kobe shaded over to help.
Too late.
Chen Yan took 1 long stride past Kobe like he was stepping over a crack in the sidewalk.
Into the paint he went, straight at the rim, straight at Kwame.
Both jumped.
Then Kwame realized the problem.
He was already on the way down, and Chen Yan was still rising.
Instinct took over. Kwame twisted sideways in mid air to avoid the worst of it.
He did not escape it.
Boom.
A thunder dunk that slammed the air out of the building for half a second.
Phoenix's bench stood up in a wave.
The play stopped the bleeding and lit a fire under the Suns in 1 motion.
Barkley laughed, half shocked, half delighted.
"Kwame jumped, Chen Yan flew," he said. "That's not a contest, that's a poster."
Kenny nodded. "That's momentum. That's also a message."
Garnett, furious, turned on Kwame immediately.
"Be tougher," he roared. "Next time, pull him down. Don't let him do that to you."
Kwame did not answer. Role players did not bark back at superstars. He lowered his head and inbounded the ball.
Los Angeles came up again, and Hudson once more tried to force feed Kobe.
This time, it was obvious.
And Chen Yan was waiting.
The pass left Hudson's hands, and Chen Yan shot out from the angle like he had been launched.
Slap.
Clean steal.
Kobe stumbled, reaching back, but it was gone. Chen Yan was already sprinting into open court.
Hudson turned and sprinted, desperate to erase his mistake.
It did not matter.
At 185 cm, Hudson was giving up too much size and too much burst.
Chen Yan did not even bother with anything fancy. He drove straight at him, gathered high, and finished with a sweeping layup, soft off his fingertips.
Swish.
4 to 7.
As the ball dropped, Chen Yan looked straight at Kobe.
A simple look, but the message was clear.
This was not your stage alone.
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