NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 291: Chapter 291: The San Antonio Melting Pot

Chapter 291: The San Antonio Melting Pot

The 20 second timeout ended quickly.

Gregg Popovich made his move. Bruce Bowen headed to the bench. In barely two and a half minutes, Bowen had taken 10 free throws and missed half of them. If that pattern continued, San Antonio’s lead would evaporate.

Before he stepped off the floor, Bowen patted Manu Ginobili on the shoulder.

”That kid is yours,” he muttered.

With Bowen out, the job of defending Chen Yan fell squarely on Ginobili.

On the Suns side, utility man Eric Piatkowski also checked out. His work was done. As he reached the bench, every teammate along the row met him with a slap of the hand.

The ”hit Bowen” phase was over.

...

Spurs ball.

The old GDP engine fired up again. Tony Parker ran the set, swung the ball to Ginobili on the wing, and Manu attacked. He slipped past Raja Bell and slashed toward the paint.

Amar’e Stoudemire, reading drive all the way, abandoned Tim Duncan and crashed down to meet him.

Both players went airborne at the same time. Ginobili tucked the ball, floated for a beat, then whipped it around his waist mid air, threading a pass back to Duncan under the rim.

Creative passes were part of Ginobili’s genius.

Duncan caught it in stride and hammered home a one handed dunk, an easy 2 on the board.

...

On the next trip, Chen Yan faced Ginobili at the other end.

He treated Manu with a different kind of respect. Ginobili was not Bowen. He was not a pure stopper, but on defense he had a knack for selling every bump like a sniper had taken him out from the rafters.

Chen worked without the ball first, using his teammates as moving screens. He cut along the baseline, curling to open spots.

Ginobili slithered through traffic, twisting between bodies, and stayed right there with him.

Bang.

Chen caught and immediately swung the ball away, then exploded to Ginobili’s right. Manu’s feet mirrored his, keeping the angle.

Chen did not force it on the first touch. He hit Boris Diaw at the top, then stomped on the gas and cut hard toward the free throw line.

His intention was obvious. Find that mid range pocket.

Diaw read it instantly and bounced the ball into the lane.

The action looked like a perfect give and go out of a soccer match. The change of pace with and without the ball stretched Ginobili’s defense to the breaking point and shook him off balance.

Chen caught the ball right at the stripe and rose into his shooting form.

Ginobili lunged from behind.

Given how hot Chen had been from that area, Manu wanted no part of another clean look.

As Ginobili left the floor, Chen dropped the ball back down, letting the defender fly past.

A pure fake.

Manu had no angle left. All he could do was sail by and try to swipe as he passed.

Chen stepped into the vacant space that opened, completely uncontested. With the way his form felt, there was no chance he was wasting it.

”Swish.”

Net.

In the TNT booth, Charles Barkley could not hold back.

”Man, that is another mid range,” Chuck blurted. ”He is killing them from that spot. They better start treating that like a layup.”

Kenny Smith nodded.

”Those are really decisive shots,” Kenny said. ”With San Antonio packing the paint and chasing him off the three, that mid range is wide open. Chen keeps going there, that is high level decision making. That is basketball IQ.”

...

On the next Spurs possession, the usually disciplined offense suddenly broke down.

A misread, a lazy pass, and Steve Nash jumped the lane, picking it clean.

He immediately pushed the ball ahead to Chen.

Chen, in turn, hit Amar’e Stoudemire streaking near midcourt.

One more stride, one rising step, and Stoudemire took off, smashing a vicious one handed dunk straight through the Spurs defense.

Three passes, two touches, and the Suns had rediscovered their run and gun heartbeat.

”Beep!”

Just as Phoenix was heating up and threatening to go on a real run, the whistle cut things short.

This time, it was not a foul.

It was the arena.

Even before the stoppage, players and fans had started to feel it. The air was getting thicker, heavier, hotter.

Chen had been locked in for the last two minutes and barely noticed, but once he stopped, he felt it immediately. His jersey clung to him, completely drenched.

”What is going on? It feels like I am breathing hot air out here.”

”Something wrong with the air conditioning?”

”Man, this feels like a sauna.”

The Suns players grumbled across the floor.

After a brief conference between the officials and the arena operations crew, the explanation came back.

The air conditioning system at the ATT Center had malfunctioned.

More than 20,000 people were packed into a closed building, all breathing the same heavy air. The heat was climbing by the minute, and the oxygen felt thin.

In just a few moments, the arena had turned into a giant melting pot.

Under those conditions, playing basketball was brutal. Just sitting in the stands was starting to feel like punishment.

Worse yet, the Spurs staff told the referees that the problem could not be fixed quickly.

Their explanation was neat and official.

The ATT Center, they said, was a multipurpose building. Spurs games were only one of many events hosted there. The building’s hardware, including the air conditioning, was owned and managed by the arena operators, not by the Spurs. The team was just a tenant, a basketball group with a few dozen people on its payroll and no responsibility or ability to repair anything.

After hearing that, the officials had no real leverage. The game had to go on in the suffocating heat.

...

At the end of three quarters, the scoreboard read:

Phoenix Suns 60, San Antonio Spurs 62.

Chen Yan’s mid range barrage had nearly erased the 12 point lead the Spurs had built over the first two and a half quarters.

A lot of fans watching felt the same thing. Without the off court chaos and the sudden shift in environment, the Suns probably would have taken the lead by now.

It was hard not to wonder if this, too, was just another layer of San Antonio’s bag of tricks.

The Spurs’ history of using everything around the court to tip the balance was no secret. It had become part of their legend, for better or worse.

...

Quarter breaks had never felt so precious.

Players from both sides spent the entire intermission chugging water and trying to cool their bodies.

In this kind of heat, every possession was a strain, especially for veterans.

Nash felt like he was running on fumes. Stamina was never his greatest weapon, and now he was flirting with dehydration.

Grant Hill, another veteran, felt the effects too, though his minutes had been lower, so he held up a little better.

The best the Suns staff could do was basic. They sent players to fan the older guys by the coolers, trying anything to ease the temperature.

Nash shut it down quickly.

”Stop,” he told them. ”All you are doing is blowing hot air in my face.”

Across the floor, the Spurs seemed to have leveled up their survival kit. During the break, they somehow produced a giant ice bucket, stacks of wet towels, and an electric fan aimed right into their huddle.

Even some Spurs fans in the stands found it hard to believe the air conditioning issue was pure coincidence.

When Suns staff walked over to ask if they could borrow a fan, the answer was a predictable no.

Back in the visiting locker room, D’Antoni had at least arranged for fresh uniforms. The players swapped into dry jerseys between quarters. It was the only real comfort the support staff could offer.

One quarter remained, and every second of it promised to be a test of how much the Suns could endure.

On the sideline, D’Antoni paced and shouted encouragement nonstop, trying to keep his players’ minds occupied with anything other than the heat.

On the bench, Chen Yan sat hunched forward, towel pressed to his face, sweat streaming down his arms.

He was carrying an enormous load. With the team’s overall shooting percentage in the gutter, the offense had essentially tilted onto his shoulders.

That meant more movement, more shots, more minutes, more strain.

And beyond the physical, there was the mental weight.

Chen knew it clearly.

If he broke, if he ran out of gas, Game 4 for the Suns would effectively end right there.

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