Chapter 415: Hot Topic, The Goal for the Next Match
The press conference room was packed.
There were far more reporters than usual, the kind of crowd reserved for history. In any era, 72 points in 1 game was not just a headline, it was a siren.
A Fox reporter got the first question.
"Chen, tonight was unreal. If I hadn't been in the building, I'd think someone broke the stat sheet. 72 points. You've already entered the conversation with the greatest scorers in NBA history, and this is only your second season. How do you feel right now?"
Chen Yan did not pretend to be above it.
"If I said I wasn't happy, that would be a lie," he said. "I'm honored to be part of the 70 point club and to have my name mentioned next to those legends. But what makes me happiest is winning while doing it. No matter what, team victories come first."
An ESPN reporter followed up quickly.
"When you had 55 through 3 quarters, did you feel like 70 was coming?"
Chen Yan shrugged.
"I didn't think about it that much. I've had 63 through 3 before, so 55 didn't feel like something special in the moment."
A TNT reporter leaned in, eager for the highlight question.
"Beyond the points, you had a lot of replay worthy moments. The dunk over Westbrook was the loudest one. What did it feel like?"
Chen Yan's expression stayed calm.
"It was just a dunk," he said. "Dunking on a guard, especially one shorter than me, doesn't feel particularly special. Next question."
The room laughed, half amused, half offended on Westbrook's behalf.
Yahoo Sports stepped in.
"The last few games, including tonight, you've played with a clear scoring mindset. Is your goal this season to win the scoring title?"
"Without a doubt," Chen Yan replied. "That's always been one of my goals."
The same reporter pressed again.
"And MVP, is that on your list too?"
"MVP is the highest individual honor," Chen Yan said. "I don't think any player would say they don't want it."
He did not hide his ambition. A soldier who did not want to be a general was not a good soldier.
…
In the Bulls' locker room, Westbrook scratched his head during his own interview, still looking like he had been hit by a storm.
"He made me doubt my life," Westbrook admitted. "I'm probably going to have nightmares for a few nights. Chen is holding a basketball, but it feels like he's playing a different sport than me."
The game was over, but the trauma was fresh. Those sequences of Chen Yan scoring kept replaying in his mind like a horror film that refused to fade out.
…
By the time the night ended, Chen Yan had become the center of debate everywhere, in the United States, overseas, and back home.
His name sat on front pages, broadcast tickers, and radio rants.
72 points was a number too loud to ignore.
Even his critics struggled to find an angle. If they called him a "team killer," Phoenix won. If they claimed he took too many shots and would clash with teammates, the Suns' locker room looked like a celebration, smiles everywhere.
Fans joked that if Chen Yan kept playing like this, his haters would need to update their resumes.
All Star voting had not even started, but his supporters already spoke as if the Western Conference starting spot was guaranteed, unless he got hurt.
And as always, once a player scored big, the comparisons arrived.
Kobe's name came up again and again. It was inevitable, 81 still sat there like a mountain.
Kobe did not respond. This season, his mind was on championships, not personal debates.
…
Former stars weighed in.
Some praised him without hesitation. Others criticized the era, saying defense was softer now, that players got too many clean looks.
The loudest quote came from notorious Bad Boy legend Bill Laimbeer.
"An Asian scoring 72 points?" Laimbeer scoffed. "In our era, that never happens. After his first 2 points, I would've sent him to the hospital."
Laimbeer had a long reputation, violent and racist, so nothing he said shocked anyone.
Other retired players attacked Phoenix's style instead. They argued the Suns were gaming the system, using speed to inflate possessions, and possessions to inflate scoring. In their view, Chen Yan benefited from a team built for track meet basketball, and only that kind of environment could produce a number like 72.
At its core, it was fear.
They had grown comfortable believing certain records were untouchable. Chen Yan's existence threatened that comfort. If his name climbed above theirs on historical lists, their pride would take a hit.
Chen Yan saw the comments. He simply did not respond.
Not responding did not mean he cared less, it meant he did not want to waste time on shouting matches.
He had a different plan.
He intended to score big again in the next game of the back to back, against the Milwaukee Bucks.
He wanted to keep answering with numbers.
…
Milwaukee was the definition of an Eastern Conference basement team.
Last season they finished 26 and 56, 13th in the East. This season, their starting point guard Mo Williams had left. There was not much room to sink lower, but they still managed to look weaker than last year.
Teams like that were perfect for running up a stat line, and Chen Yan had caught them at the right time.
Even on a back to back, Phoenix did not feel pressure. During warmups, shots were falling. Legs looked light. The mood was easy.
After practice, Chen Yan went to D'Antoni.
"Mike," he said, "I feel great today. Let me shoot more. I want to score big again."
D'Antoni smiled.
"Addicted to scoring?" he teased. "Didn't your arms get tired from all those shots last game?"
They had a close relationship, so their conversations stayed casual.
Chen Yan grinned back.
"Even if you let me shoot 50 more, it's fine. This is what I do."
D'Antoni patted his shoulder.
"You want me to start Steve Novak?" he asked. "Use his shooting to stretch the floor even more?"
Chen Yan shook his head.
"No need. Our starters already have enough spacing. Just give me more freedom."
D'Antoni's smile faded slightly, turning serious.
"As long as you stay efficient and the ball goes in, you can have all the freedom you want," he said. "But if your shot isn't falling, don't force it. Stay calm. Winning comes first."
Unlimited freedom was trust, not permission to play reckless.
If Chen Yan started messing around, D'Antoni would still sit him.
Chen Yan tapped his chest, confident.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't mess it up."
.....
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