Chapter 429: Educating Newcomers, Drying the Silence
Chen Yan only played 30 minutes, but his line looked like a full night of work. He went 13 of 21 from the field, 4 of 7 from 3, and 5 of 6 at the line for 35 points, 8 rebounds, 8 assists, 2 steals, and 2 blocks. If Oklahoma City had not waved the white flag so early, he might have chased a 40 point triple double without even forcing it.
Nash finished with 13 points and 9 assists. Stoudemire added 20 points, 9 rebounds, and 2 blocks, and Diaw chipped in 10. The Suns starters were steady, as usual.
What really pleased the coaching staff was the bench.
Novak lit it up, drilling 5 of 6 from deep for 15 points. Jordan gave them energy and protection at the rim with 7 points, 8 rebounds, and 3 blocks. The new pieces were starting to understand Phoenix basketball, run with pace, space the floor, defend without overthinking, and trust the pass.
Oklahoma City's box score was uglier. Only Devin Harris, Al Horford, and Bass reached double figures.
The Suns barely had time to enjoy the win. The schedule did not care. They immediately had to fly to Minnesota for a back to back against the Timberwolves.
Minnesota was brutal in winter. Nobody loved a road trip there, and these days, the cold felt like the only thing that could reliably slow down visiting teams. Ever since Garnett left last season, the Timberwolves had dropped straight into the basement.
The Los Angeles Lakers' trade package to Minnesota had been generous. They sent Andrew Bynum, Lamar Odom, and extra pieces like Jordan Farmar and Maurice Evans. On paper, it was a real haul.
In reality, Minnesota was just… Minnesota.
No matter who arrived, the place had a way of turning talent into apathy. Bynum and Odom already carried a reputation for being undisciplined. Without Kobe on their neck every day, they had completely loosened up over the past year, generating more gossip than wins.
Then the Timberwolves used the 4th pick to draft OJ Mayo, a player with plenty of talent and plenty of bad habits, smoking, drinking, drugs, the kind of resume that made coaches reach for aspirin. It felt like Minnesota had collected the league's most undisciplined personalities and put them in the same locker room, just to see what would happen.
…
The game opened with Minnesota on offense.
Bynum posted Stoudemire, backed him down twice, tried to fake a turn, and got whistled for traveling. The ref was right there and did not hesitate.
Bynum had elite height, length, and athleticism, but his lower body strength in the paint was not strong enough. When big men do not have that base, their footwork gets sloppy under contact, and the whistle shows up fast.
Phoenix took over.
Nash crossed half court, dribbled between his legs to his left, and handed it off to Chen Yan. Chen swung it quickly to Raja Bell in the corner. Bell tossed it inside to Diaw, and Diaw turned into a soft little hook over Odom.
Suns 2, Timberwolves 0.
As Chen Yan jogged back on defense, OJ Mayo sprinted after him, yapping before he even took a breath.
"Why didn't you go 1 on 1 with me? You scared?"
Chen Yan did not even look at him.
He knew the type. Mayo's confidence had no ceiling and no brakes. In high school, he had even demanded a 1 on 1 with Jordan at a camp and got demolished by an older man who did not break a sweat.
Minnesota came down, and Randy Foye brought it up.
Foye was 193 cm, about 97 kg, drafted 7th in 2006 by Portland, then swapped for Minnesota's 6th pick, Brandon Roy. Three seasons later, Roy was already an All Star. Looking at Foye's development, Minnesota's front office had to feel that regret like a toothache.
Bynum stepped out to screen, clipped Nash clean, and Foye turned the corner. Phoenix collapsed. Foye took a step and kicked to the corner. Odom caught, faked, and rose into a clean mid range jumper. Diaw was a half beat late and could not bother it.
Suns 2, Timberwolves 2.
Phoenix came back up.
Mayo was glued to Chen Yan, chest to chest, arms grabbing space, talking nonstop like he was being paid per word.
"You can't score on me. You can't get a point on me. You can't even touch the ball."
For a second, Chen Yan honestly wondered if Mayo was high, because the confidence did not match reality.
Nash held it at the top, reading the floor. The moment Mayo leaned in to keep talking, Chen Yan planted, stopped, and snapped back the other way. Nash understood instantly and lofted the pass.
Chen caught it a step outside the restricted area.
He did not shoot.
He waited.
He waited for Mayo to recover and get back into position, like a teacher giving the student one last chance to stand up straight before the lesson started.
Barkley started laughing on the broadcast.
"Look at this, man. Chen caught it and didn't even go up. He waited for the rookie to get set. That's disrespectful."
Kenny Smith chuckled. "He's putting it on the floor too. That looks like a post up coming."
Bang.
Bang.
Two hard bumps. Chen leaned into the contact, then turned and faded, lifting into a one legged jumper, the move looked like a One Leg Fade away stance.
Mayo lunged, desperate.
Beep.
Swish.
The whistle and the net hit almost together.
And one.
Chen went down from the contact, laying on the floor with an easy smile, like he had just finished a simple drill. The funniest part was that he had used the post up, the move he liked the least, just to make the point hurt more.
He got up and buried the free throw.
Suns 5, Timberwolves 2.
Mayo still refused to shut up.
"You can't guard me!" he barked, as if he had just scored.
Chen Yan almost admired the confidence. It reminded him of Kobe, that same stubborn pride, except Kobe had the discipline to match it. If Mayo ever found that discipline, he could be dangerous.
Minnesota ran the next possession through Mayo.
Foye gestured for structure, and Mayo ignored all of it. He took the ball and started dribbling like it was a street run, strings of moves, quick hands, wild rhythm, eyes locked on Chen like the whole game was a personal audition.
The talent was real, the handle was tight, the body was strong.
The decision making was terrible.
He could not shake Chen. Not once. With 5 seconds left, he forced a rushed pull up from the top.
Clang.
McHale's blood pressure spiked instantly.
"This isn't the NCAA!" he roared from the sideline. "If you keep doing that, I'm sitting you down!"
Phoenix was already gone in transition.
Chen caught outside the arc, bent his knees, and paused. The ball hung in his left hand while he stared at the rim like he was choosing where to place the shot.
Mayo rushed to close.
The moment Mayo's weight shifted forward, Chen triggered his move, that sudden change, that frozen beat into motion.
He snapped a sharp dribble and change of direction. Mayo's athleticism let him stay attached for half a second.
Then Chen pulled it back behind his back, sliding out to the 3 point line again.
Mayo flew past.
The Target Center crowd watched a wide open 3 like it was a practice shot.
Swish.
Suns 8, Timberwolves 2.
Chen shrugged, turning his head with a smirk.
"Where's the guy guarding me?" he said loud enough for Mayo to hear. "Why is nobody guarding me?"
Now the trash talk was going the other way.
Minnesota tried to settle down. Foye crossed half court and gave it to Odom to organize. Foye was technically the point guard, but Minnesota often let Odom initiate because Odom had real vision and passing instincts, while Foye's first instinct was always to score.
Odom dribbled between his legs once and slid along the arc toward the corner. Halfway through, he saw Bynum seal deep position. Odom lofted it inside.
Bynum went up strong and drew a foul on Stoudemire.
People called Bynum "Little Shaq," but at the line he was nothing like Shaq. The last 2 seasons, he hovered around 70 percent, which is solid for a big. Even Pau Gasol was around 78 percent this season. You cannot grade every center by Yao Ming's touch.
Bynum hit both.
Suns 8, Timberwolves 4.
Phoenix inbounded. Nash had not even crossed half court when Chen Yan waved for the ball.
Nash brought Stoudemire up to the top. It was not a pick and roll, it was a clear out, pulling the big away so the paint would open.
Chen and Nash read each other perfectly. The moment Stoudemire lifted, Chen cut hard into the lane. Mayo chased, hands on Chen's back, shoving and fighting like he was trying to prove strength instead of defense.
Nash lofted the entry.
Chen caught it and immediately initiated contact, shoulder into chest. Minnesota did not send a double. Doubling Chen on a low post isolation was pointless, he moved too fast, and the decision would be made before help arrived.
Chen bumped 3 times, then hit a shoulder fake, right, then left, then spun to his right off his pivot.
Mayo stayed with it, sliding his feet and trying to cut him off.
Chen did not care. He lifted the ball high.
Mayo bit and left the floor.
Chen changed again.
His pivot stayed planted, his lead foot stepped through cleanly, the footwork was smooth, controlled, and cruel.
Swish.
Suns 10, Timberwolves 4.
Chen had scored at will, adjusting every move to whatever Mayo tried, like he was answering a quiz out loud.
He leaned in close and spoke right into Mayo's ear.
"You should call another teammate. No, call 2. Otherwise I'm dropping 100 on your head."
Mayo finally had nothing to say. The words dried up in his throat.
This was worse than that old camp story with Jordan, because that had been a private lesson in front of a small crowd. Tonight was national television. Everyone could see him get stripped of his confidence, possession by possession.
Barkley was already enjoying himself.
"Oh man, Chen is teaching him like he's a rookie orientation instructor."
Kenny nodded. "Last time it was Westbrook. Now it's Mayo. Chen really likes educating newcomers."
Barkley grinned. "Mayo must've said something crazy, because Chen is targeting him like he owes rent."
And the cameras caught it clearly.
Chen Yan had already scored 8 straight.
OJ Mayo looked like an ATM with no password.
.....
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