Chapter 360: Encountering the Movie King, a Rain of Angry 3s!
The wrestling match between Chen Yan and LeBron James did not just add heat, it set the tone.
This was no longer a normal Finals game. It was a fight. And for Cleveland, it was a fight with their backs on the cliff's edge.
They were down 0 to 2. Lose again, go down 0 to 3, and history turns into a locked door. Nobody comes back from 0 to 3 in the playoffs, and nobody was about to start in the NBA Finals.
The first quarter ended with the teams tied at 29.
The second quarter got even more physical, and as the contact rose, the shooting cooled. With 25 seconds left in the half, the score sat at 50 to 51. Cleveland led by 1.
Phoenix had the ball.
Nash, veteran to the bone, did not rush. He dribbled at the top, letting the clock bleed. Everyone in the building knew it. One possession each, then halftime.
With 11 seconds left, Nash called for the pick and roll. Stoudemire stepped up high, and Nash went right off the screen.
At the same time on the baseline, Chen Yan and Diaw ran their own action. Diaw set an off ball screen, and Chen Yan tried to burst free along the baseline.
Cleveland switched instantly.
Varejão was waiting, blocking the lane like a door slammed shut.
That had been Cleveland's rule all night: switch everything on Chen Yan, ball or no ball. Give him no air, no angle, no rhythm.
Chen Yan bumped Varejão lightly, a normal bit of contact, just enough to turn back and loop to the other side.
And in the very next second, Varejão performed.
The moment he felt the touch, he staggered back 2 steps like he had been hit by a truck, then threw himself to the floor along the baseline.
A flop. A loud one.
The whistle still blew.
Offensive foul on Chen Yan.
Chen Yan smiled.
Not because it was funny, but because he was furious.
It was not the first call like that tonight. The league did not want a Finals sweep. A 4 to 0 series does not sell the same, and everyone inside the business knows what that means. So the 50 50 calls leaned Cleveland's way, and the referees felt bold enough to reward acting instead of basketball.
The most ridiculous part was the free throws.
With halftime approaching, Chen Yan had spent the entire half attacking the paint, and he had only taken 2 free throws. Only 2.
And he still had 19 points, built almost entirely on field goals.
Because Phoenix had already hit the team foul limit for the quarter, Varejão went straight to the line.
Swish.
Swish.
After the makes, Phoenix inbounded. With only a couple seconds left, Nash launched a desperate backcourt heave.
It came up short, an air ball.
Halftime.
50 to 53.
Cleveland fans erupted anyway.
It was the first time all Finals that the Cavaliers had reached the break with a lead, and they treated it like oxygen.
…
Phoenix hit the locker room boiling.
Stoudemire paced. "Why doesn't the league just give them the win and save everybody the trouble?"
Raja Bell flexed his hands, shaking his head. "Chen's wrist is red from being hit, and he still can't buy a trip to the line."
Matt Barnes slammed his fist into his palm. "Then we play tougher. I'll take LeBron."
D'Antoni cut it off immediately. Calm, sharp, firm.
"Do not be reckless. This is their building, they get some home court calls. That's normal. What we do is keep our head and play our basketball."
Nash backed him up, voice steady. "We're down 3. That's nothing. If we play right, they can't keep up."
For Phoenix, the math was simple. Play clean, play fast, avoid the stupid stuff, and the trophy was waiting. But if the game turned into chaos and suspensions started flying, then nothing was guaranteed.
So the first job at halftime was not tactics. It was control.
Chen Yan barely spoke.
He was not swallowing the anger. He was storing it.
He planned to turn it into fuel, then burn Cleveland with it.
…
Cleveland opened the third.
James ran a high post pick and roll, eyes scanning. The moment he moved, he saw Gibson slipping to the corner.
The pass came fast.
Gibson rose for 3.
Clang.
A clean miss, no contest.
Finals pressure showed up like that. A sophomore who had been 45 percent from 3 in the playoffs was down to 37 percent in the Finals, and he was missing looks that should have been automatic.
Phoenix secured the rebound and flew.
The instant Nash crossed half court, Chen Yan demanded the ball. You could see it on his face. He was not here to talk anymore.
Larry Hughes picked him up. Cleveland could not ask LeBron to guard Chen Yan all game, not with the offensive load he carried.
Stoudemire stepped up to screen, and Chen Yan went right.
Switch.
Varejão again.
Chen Yan lowered his stance, started his drive, and then snapped back hard behind the 3 point line.
Varejão stumbled like his ankles had been unplugged, then slid right out of the play, disappearing beyond the camera frame.
Another gift for the highlight reel.
Chen Yan rose.
Swish.
53 to 53.
Mike Brown shook his head on the sideline. Varejão could not stay in front of him, but Brown had no better option. Among Cleveland's bigs, Varejão was the most mobile. If it was O'Neal or Big Z on that switch, they would not even get the chance to be faked. They would just be beaten.
Cleveland tried to answer.
James attacked, then kicked to Varejão.
Varejão had a shot, but he hesitated, took an unnecessary dribble, and that single extra beat gave Phoenix time to rotate.
Stoudemire arrived like a storm.
Block.
He smothered it, and the ball fell straight into Nash's hands.
Nash pushed immediately. 3 on 2.
Chen Yan slipped to the left corner, feet set beyond the arc.
Nash could have taken it himself, but nobody sane ignores Chen Yan wide open from 3.
He delivered a no look pass, pure chemistry.
Chen Yan caught, fired before the help could recover.
Swish.
56 to 53.
Phoenix had taken the lead, and they had done it the Suns way, defense into pace, pace into 3s.
Cleveland's next trip turned into a disaster.
Gibson drove off a screen, spun, and tried to hit Big Z on the baseline midrange.
The idea was fine.
The execution was careless.
Chen Yan read it, exploded into the lane, and intercepted the pass clean.
He turned and sprinted the other way.
Now the pace was different. Phoenix had come out of halftime running like they were late for something, and Cleveland's defense was cracking under it.
Chen Yan had just hit 2 straight 3s. Every Cavalier on the floor was staring at him.
He knew it.
So he got bold.
2 steps behind the 3 point line, right over the Cavaliers logo, he rose in transition and let it go.
A shot that is hard to contest even when you know it is coming, and nearly impossible to contest when it is coming at full speed.
Cleveland could only watch and hope.
The ball arced high, perfectly clean.
Swish.
59 to 53.
Chen Yan held his right arm with his left hand and made a quick bullet loading gesture, right in front of the stunned crowd.
Anger had become rhythm.
Rhythm had become 3s.
And the third quarter had begun with a storm.
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