NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 128: Chapter 128: Continuous Dunks, the Suns Are Gaining Momentum!

Chapter 128: Continuous Dunks, the Suns Are Gaining Momentum!

”Play tougher! Don’t just stand there like a damn doormat!”

Popovich’s voice boomed from the sidelines after Chen Yan led a 4-on-1 fast break and slammed it home.

”You’re not here to give them a red carpet to the rim!”

Pop’s scolding was nothing new—he often barked orders that way to get his message across to the entire team. The Spurs players were used to it by now.

Over on the Suns’ bench, Coach D’Antoni shook his head and let out a chuckle.

He had asked Chen Yan to take over offensively when the game was at a stalemate—but this kid didn’t wait for a signal. Still, he couldn’t complain. D’Antoni wasn’t one of those old-school coaches obsessed with systems. As long as the ball ended up in the hoop, he didn’t care how it got there.

The Spurs had done a solid job in the first quarter, slowing the Suns’ trademark transition game. They were quick getting back on defense and didn’t allow Phoenix to get into rhythm.

Of course, Chen Yan couldn’t force a 1-on-4 break every possession. That kind of play might hype up the crowd, but it wasn’t sustainable. It drained energy and wasn’t high percentage basketball.

Instead, Phoenix ran their offense through Stoudemire. And tonight, STAT came ready to work.

Stoudemire was on fire, attacking relentlessly. He carried a psychological edge from their previous playoff battles. In the 2005 series against the Spurs, he’d dropped a ridiculous 37 points and 9.8 rebounds per game—a career-defining stretch.

Facing off against the Spurs’ interior again, Stoudemire showed no hesitation—even with Tim Duncan guarding him solo.

Halfway through the first quarter, STAT had already tallied 9 points and 5 boards, hitting 4-of-5 from the field. The Spurs’ strategy of not fighting for offensive rebounds gave him plenty of space to clean up the glass.

Popovich, however, didn’t blink. He kept trusting the one-on-one matchup, refusing to send help or double-teams. His defensive priority was clear—shut down Steve Nash.

Pop’s philosophy: Cut off the engine, and the whole Suns’ offense stalls. No matter how good Stoudemire looked, if Nash wasn’t controlling the tempo, Phoenix couldn’t run their racecar offense.

Meanwhile, the Spurs hammered away inside with Duncan. They knew Phoenix’s biggest weakness was interior defense. Once Duncan got going and the Suns started doubling him, Pop’s offense opened up.

The Suns’ defensive approach was the polar opposite—they weren’t going to let Duncan dominate. When the ”Stone Buddha” caught fire, they immediately threw extra bodies at him.

Duncan didn’t force the issue. As arguably the best power forward ever, his feel for the game was elite. He kept the ball moving and hit open shooters when the defense collapsed.

The Spurs’ role players stepped up, knocking down shots at a decent clip. Nothing spectacular—but enough to keep Phoenix honest.

With 6:07 left in the first quarter, the Spurs held a slim lead, 16–14.

Then Pop made a key substitution: Enter Manu Ginobili.

The game shifted immediately.

Ginobili stood at 6’6”, 205 pounds, and this season—his peak—he was averaging 20.7 points per game, shooting 46.4% from two and a deadly 40.5% from deep.

He was a complete anomaly on this Spurs roster. Chaotic, unpredictable, and creative, Ginobili played with flair that didn’t fit the Spurs’ disciplined style. But Popovich let him roam freely—because Manu earned that right.

In a system built on structure, Ginobili was the sanctioned wild card.

Right out the gate, Manu slithered through defenders with two serpentine drives—drawing a foul on one and dishing out a beautiful assist to Parker for a corner three on the next.

Suddenly, San Antonio’s offense had a different rhythm. Faster, freer, more aggressive.

By the end of the first quarter, the Spurs had built a 27–18 lead.

---

Second Quarter Begins

Popovich kept Ginobili on the floor to start the second, running with the second unit: Jacque Vaughn, Ginobili, Brent Barry, Robert Horry, and Matt Bonner.

D’Antoni countered with a small-ball lineup: Barea, Chen Yan, Grant Hill, Azubuike, and Matt Barnes.

In the first quarter, Chen Yan only played 7 minutes—D’Antoni had planned that. He wanted his star guard fresh for this quarter, to counter Ginobili’s offensive spark. Depth had always been Phoenix’s Achilles’ heel against the Spurs’ deep roster.

Phoenix had the ball to start.

Chen Yan came up high to set a screen for Barea. With no traditional big in the Suns’ second unit, it was all about guard-to-guard pick-and-rolls.

The Spurs didn’t switch.

Barea took the edge and drove hard to the rim—finishing with a clean layup!

27–20. Suns cut the lead to 7.

Chen Yan jogged over and gave Barea a quick slap on the back of the head.

That kind of decisiveness? That’s exactly why Chen personally pushed for Barea to be picked up after the Summer League. Every team needs a fearless shot-taker off the bench.

And Barea wasn’t just scrappy on offense. On defense, he was hounding Jacque Vaughn full court—applying pressure and burning clock.

Let’s put this in perspective: just a year ago, Barea averaged 5.1 minutes and 2.4 points per game. This season? He’s putting up 10.2 points in 15.8 minutes a night. That’s more than triple across the board.

And Barea knew exactly who to thank—Chen Yan for vouching for him, and the Suns for giving him a legit shot.

Vaughn struggled to bring the ball up cleanly. Despite being a 10-year NBA vet with rock-solid fundamentals, even he had trouble shaking the persistent Barea.

At the top of the arc, Ginobili took control of the possession. Matt Barnes stepped up to guard him.

D’Antoni hadn’t assigned Azubuike—who was closer to Ginobili in size and strength—to defend him. The reason was clear. The ”Demon Blade” had a deceptive, slippery playing style. Throwing a second-year rookie like Azubuike at him would be asking for trouble. He’d get baited into fouls or simply left spinning.

But as the next few seconds proved, even a veteran like Barnes didn’t fare much better.

Ginobili called for an iso and went to work. After a series of speed changes and directional shifts, he snaked into the paint with that signature awkward rhythm that froze defenders in place.

He didn’t rely on elite athleticism. Ginobili was never the fastest or strongest guy on the court. If he had been, he wouldn’t have slipped to the 57th pick in the draft. But his flexibility? His coordination? Flat-out legendary.

Inside the restricted area, Ginobili contorted his body mid-air—twisting between Barnes and the help defense from Azubuike—and flipped the ball up off the glass.

Whistle.

And one!

The crowd at AT&T Center exploded as the ball dropped through the net. Home fans roared in approval.

Barnes grimaced. He hadn’t played bad defense. He’d stuck with him all the way. But that was just Ginobili being Ginobili—crafty, unorthodox, and damn near impossible to guard.

”It’s all right, that was good D,” Chen Yan said, patting Barnes on the back. ”He’s not getting that every time.”

It was early in the second quarter. Chen knew he had to keep his guys locked in, mentally sharp. One crazy shot from Ginobili wasn’t the end of the world.

Score: 30–20. Spurs by double digits.

The Suns inbounded, and this time, Chen Yan took the ball up himself.

As he crossed half-court, his teammates cleared out, spacing the floor. They knew the drill. It was Chen Yan time.

Brent Barry stepped up to check him.

No hesitation.

With a lightning-quick crossover, Chen slashed to the right and blew past Barry like he wasn’t even there.

Once known for his hops and the infamous ”white men can jump” moment, Barry didn’t have the wheels anymore. His legs couldn’t keep up with Chen’s burst.

Horry rotated late, just in time to see Chen Yan elevate and hammer a one-handed dunk straight down the pipe.

BOOM!

The Suns’ bench exploded. Towels flying, players on their feet, yelling, high-fiving. That kind of play brings life back to a struggling team.

Popovich didn’t say a word. He just gave a subtle hand signal. Barry was too slow. Time to put Ginobili on him.

Next Spurs possession, Ginobili probed the defense and drew a quick double-team. As defenders collapsed, he zipped a pass to Jacque Vaughn in the corner.

Vaughn caught it in rhythm, rose, and fired.

Chen Yan rotated hard from the wing, contesting the shot. He didn’t block it, but the pressure was enough.

Clank.

Off the rim. Barnes battled inside, secured the rebound, and swung his elbows wide—classic tough-guy move—before dishing it off to Barea.

Barea pushed the pace, then found Chen Yan near midcourt.

This time, Ginobili was waiting.

Barnes started to come over for a screen, but Chen waved him off.

He wanted this one-on-one.

Ginobili wasn’t a lockdown defender, but he was smart and quick with his hands. A gambler. Always looking for the poke-steal.

Chen Yan dribbled low, through his legs. Once. Twice.

Then he froze—just for a split second.

Bang! He dropped his shoulder and exploded with a deadly cross-step.

Ginobili reached. Missed.

He was cooked.

By the time Ginobili turned around, Chen Yan was already two steps past him.

Now it was just Horry left.

Chen didn’t slow down. He took two powerful strides and launched off his left foot, floating under the rim.

Reverse slam.

BOOM!!!

No Duncan protecting the paint this time. No resistance.

Popovich jumped off the bench. ”Double him! Next play!”

But it was too late. The Suns’ bench turned into a circus. Guys were jumping, screaming, pounding their chests. Chen Yan’s dunk had flipped the switch.

And on the court, the effect was immediate.

The Suns locked in on defense like never before. Help rotations. Switches. Communication. Everything clicked.

The Spurs couldn’t even get a clean look.

Twenty-four seconds.

Shot clock violation!

The Suns bench erupted again—this time for defense, something rarely seen from a D’Antoni team.

The ball bounced to Horry, who had to rush up a bad shot at the buzzer. It bricked hard off the rim, bouncing high.

Chen Yan snatched the rebound one-handed and took off.

Fast break.

The second he crossed half-court, three Spurs defenders collapsed on him. Everyone in the arena expected him to force something.

But Chen kept calm. Just before the trap closed in, he slowed down and fired a low, sneaky bounce pass under the defense.

Azubuike came flying in from the wing, caught it in stride, and SLAMMED it home with two hands.

BOOM!

He landed, beat his chest, and roared directly into the baseline camera.

Chen ran over, grinning, and shoved Azubuike from behind—hard.

That was their way of celebrating. No words. Just raw energy.

”TIME-OUT!”

Popovich had seen enough. The momentum had flipped. The Suns were rolling.

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