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Phoenix. Footprint Center.
Stepping onto the bright hardwood floor, the wall of sound hit them like a physical tsunami.
The massive jumbotron above center court was looping highlights of the Suns sweeping the Lakers last season.
Every time a clip showed a Steve Nash dime, the crowd erupted in deafening cheers.
Courtside was a galaxy of stars.
The camera panned across the front row, catching glimpses of celebrities, business moguls, and local legends packed into the prime seats.
During warmups, Link could feel the hostility radiating from the stands. It was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Every time he touched the ball, the boos rained down.
Just as warmups were winding down, the arena lights cut out completely.
Only a few spotlights sliced through the darkness at center court.
Instead of quieting down, the noise in the dark surged to a fever pitch!
"Ladies and Gentlemen!!!"
The DJ's voice, dripping with hype, boomed through the speakers, instantly drowning out the chaos.
"Welcome to Phoenix!!!" the DJ roared.
"GO SUNS!!!!"
"GO SUNS!!!!"
Nearly twenty thousand fans responded in unison, screaming until their throats were raw.
Orange strobe lights flashed violently, and dry ice fog rolled out onto the floor.
"First!!" The DJ's voice was full of power.
"From TCU, the 6-foot-10 enforcer, Number 40... Kurt Thomas!!!"
A spotlight hit the tunnel.
The rugged Thomas jogged out, greeted by warm applause.
"Next!!" The music tempo sped up. "From Cypress Creek High, the ultimate power forward, Number 1... Amare Stoudemire!!!"
"STAT" roared as he charged out.
He thumped his chest hard and pointed to the stands, instantly igniting the crowd!
"And then!! From Florida International University, Number 19... Raja Bell!!!"
Bell ran out with a stone-cold expression, but the cheers for the defensive specialist were just as loud.
Then, the music shifted gears.
The DJ's voice dropped, using a dramatic pause to build the tension.
"Now————from UNLV, the Versatile Warrior, Number 31... Shawn————Marion!!!"
Marion shot out of the tunnel like a cheetah, the spotlight swallowing him.
The whole arena chanted his nickname in rhythm: "THE MATRIX! THE MATRIX!"
Finally, the lights dipped again.
The music faded to near silence, leaving only a heartbeat-like drum thud.
The DJ's voice trembled with a fanatic intensity.
"Finally————from Santa Clara, the MVP, the Soul of Phoenix, our leader, Number 13... Steve————"
"Nash!!!!!"
The Footprint Center went absolutely nuclear!
Every light in the building blasted on at once.
The roar was deafening, louder than all the previous intros combined!
Steve Nash, the maestro himself, jogged out with a smile.
He high-fived fans on both sides of the tunnel before huddling with his teammates.
Then, the DJ's voice returned, but the temperature in the room dropped instantly.
"And tonight, our guests from Los Angeles————the Lakers."
The mocking "BEAT LA" chant started immediately.
Kobe led the Lakers onto the floor, his face devoid of expression.
The big screen conveniently zoomed in on every Laker player's face.
When Link's face hit the jumbotron, the boos reached a crescendo.
"Overrated!"
"Shawn is better!"
"Too expensive!"
The jeers came from all directions.
Link just looked up calmly, glancing at his own face on the giant screen.
Then he huddled with his teammates.
Everything outside that circle was noise. It was blocked out.
The war was about to begin.
Before the tip-off, the starters stood near the center circle.
Marion walked up to Link, flashing a cold, unfriendly sneer.
His eyes were full of the resentment of someone who knew he had been dangled as trade bait.
Link glanced at him, didn't say a word, and shifted his focus to the ball in the referee's hands.
Tweet!
The whistle blew. Game on!
Kurt Thomas, the savvy vet, tipped the ball to Nash.
Nash caught it and hit the gas instantly!
He looked like a golden bolt of lightning tearing toward the frontcourt. The Lakers' defense hadn't even set up yet.
At the top of the key, Nash changed his rhythm.
He looked like he was going to use a Stoudemire screen to drive left.
But the moment Farmar shifted his weight, Nash hit a wicked crossover to the right, slicing straight into the paint.
Then, just as the interior defense collapsed on him, he whipped a fancy behind-the-back pass.
The ball threaded through the defenders like a scalpel, finding a cutting Marion on the weak side!
Marion caught it with nothing but open space in front of him!
He took one giant stride and smashed home a dunk!
The Suns drew first blood.
2-0!
The arena erupted!
"Classic Suns opening! Lightning fast!" the commentator shouted.
Transition. Lakers ball.
Kobe took the inbound at the baseline, bringing it up against Raja Bell's suffocating pressure.
He didn't force the isolation. He dumped it to Odom in the high post to facilitate.
At the same time, Link took off from the corner.
Using a rock-solid screen from Bynum, he shook Marion by half a step and curled to the right elbow.
Odom's pass arrived right on time.
Link caught it. Kurt Thomas had switched onto him.
No hesitation. No fake.
Catch. Elevate. Fire!
The whole sequence happened in the blink of an eye!
Swish!
Nothing but net! 2-2!
"Answer ball! The Prophet is looking extremely decisive tonight!" the commentator praised.
Link kept a poker face and sprinted back on defense.
His eyes met Marion's for a split second—calm vs. storm.
Suns ball. Nash wanted to push the pace again.
But the Lakers got back fast, all five guys walling off the transition.
Nash slowed it down. Half-court set.
Stoudemire called for the ball in the low post, backing down Odom.
He banged inside twice, hard, then spun for a little tear-drop floater.
Good!
4-2!
Lakers' turn. Farmar brought it up. Kobe called for it on the wing.
Bell was draped all over him like a second skin.
Kobe hit him with a jab step, then rose up instantly. Long two.
Good!
4-4!
From the jump, the game turned into a track meet.
The Lakers abandoned their usual slow-paced triangle grind and played with extreme aggression on offense.
Before the first TV timeout, the score seesawed back and forth.
On a transition play, Link caught a full-court outlet from Kobe.
He stopped on a dime a foot behind the three-point line, ignoring Marion's desperate closeout.
Pull-up three!
Bang!
12-9.
Link's hand was scorching hot tonight!
That three-pointer stuck a cork in the crowd's noise for a split second.
D'Antoni immediately called a timeout, trying to break the Lakers' rhythm.
But Link's offensive appetite was insatiable tonight.
He was going to use his game to slap every critic and hater right across the face.
Timeout over.
The Suns' offense stalled on the next possession.
Next trip down.
Kobe drew a double team on the strong side and kicked it to Link at the top of the key.
Link caught it. Boris Diaw switched onto him. Link hit him with a pump fake, getting him in the air.
He exploded past him, driving straight down the lane!
Marion came flying in from the weak side for the block. They met in the air outside the restricted circle!
Boom!
The sound of muscle colliding was audible.
Link didn't shy away. He used his left arm to ward off Marion's block attempt.
Stabilizing his core in mid-air, he threw up a high floater!
The ball rattled on the rim once, then dropped in!
"And one!"
Tweet!
The whistle blew. Foul on Marion!
2+1!
"Yeah!!" The Lakers bench exploded! Kobe pumped his fist.
"Tough! Link takes it right into the teeth of the Matrix for the And-1!" the commentator yelled. "He is attacking inside and out tonight! Full arsenal on display!"
Suns ball.
Nash used a double screen and hit a ridiculous drifting floater to stop the bleeding.
Final possession of the first quarter.
Clock winding down. Kobe forced a tough fadeaway.
Clang.
But Chris Mihm battled over Stoudemire and tapped out a precious offensive rebound, tipping it to Link on the perimeter.
Link dribbled back, stepping behind the arc.
He let it fly!
The red light on the backboard lit up.
The ball traced a high arc, spinning rapidly————
Swish!
Buzz!
The buzzer sounded as the net snapped.
Buzzer-beater!
"OH MY GOD!!! Link! He is unconscious!!" The commentary booth went wild.
32-24!
The Lakers had silenced the home crowd, taking an 8-point lead into the break.
Link's first quarter line: 7-for-7 from the field, 2-for-3 from deep, 2-for-2 from the line.
14 points in one quarter!