NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 395: Chapter 395: The Semifinals Start Poorly

Chapter 395: The Semifinals Start Poorly

At the postgame press conference, Croatia head coach Jasmin Repeša kept it classy.

”The host team is very strong,” he said. ”We did not get many clean looks tonight. Yao Ming and Chen Yan played with NBA All Star level quality. We lost, but we are not discouraged. My players competed hard, and we reached our goal of making the quarterfinals. We can leave Wukesong with our heads high, and we can leave Beijing the same way.”

Roko Leni Ukić echoed the respect.

”This Chinese team is much stronger than we imagined,” he said. ”They have 3 active NBA players and 2 guys who feel like All Stars in this setting, especially Chen Yan. His presence makes their offense smoother and lifts the whole team to another level.”

Stanko Barać was even more direct.

”Chen Yan is special,” he said. ”He can score, and he makes his teammates easier to score too. He was the main reason we lost.”

Chen Yan’s numbers were quieter than his group stage explosions, but the praise from opponents only got louder. That was how it worked with truly elite players, the box score rarely captured the full damage. You understood it when you had to guard him, possession after possession, with no breaks.

Croatia’s players congratulated China openly. No one complained. No one played stubborn. They lost clean. On paper and on the floor, China had been better, so there was nothing to argue about.

...

China’s own interviews carried a different tone.

Jonas looked calm, almost stubbornly calm, like a man refusing to let history soften his standards.

”People say reaching the semifinals is overachieving,” he said. ”What I want to say is this, I did not set a ceiling for this team. So whatever we achieve, I will not be surprised.”

Yao Ming stood beside him, smiling, but not letting the moment drift into comfort.

”Celebrate?” he said. ”Of course we will celebrate. This is a historic moment for us, but it will wait until after the Olympics.”

A reporter followed up quickly.

”Yao, how are your knees and ankles feeling?”

Yao grinned. ”I feel great. If we win the next game, I think I will feel even better.”

The room laughed. Yao’s expression turned into something instantly meme worthy. Winning did that to people, it made even the serious guys lighter.

When Chen Yan faced the microphones, he did what he always did after a comfortable win. He pushed the spotlight back onto the group.

”Everybody played great tonight,” he said. ”This was a team win.”

Then the system chimed in, as if it had been waiting for the quote.

”Ding. Team chemistry plus 3.”

The chemistry number climbed to 51. From club to national team, it was always like this, new jerseys, new roles, new teammates, and you had to build it again from the ground up.

A reporter tried to turn the mood playful.

”Chen Yan, why no triple double tonight?”

Chen Yan blinked, like he was not sure he heard the question right. Then he shrugged.

”Brother, this is the Olympics, not a neighborhood run. Triple doubles are not that easy.”

That got another wave of laughter. Before Chen Yan, the entire history of Olympic men’s basketball had produced only 1 triple double, Soviet guard Alexander Belov in the 1976 Montreal bronze medal game, with 23 points, 14 rebounds, and 10 assists.

The reporter was not really at fault.

Chen Yan was.

He had made the impossible look routine, so people started treating greatness like it was supposed to show up on schedule.

...

After the interviews, China did not return straight to the Olympic Village. The whole team stayed together to watch another quarterfinal, Argentina vs Greece. The winner would face China in the semifinals.

If China could choose, they wanted Greece.

Argentina were the defending champions, and their roster was loaded with NBA talent. Greece, meanwhile, had already lost to China in group play, which would at least give China a psychological edge.

But hope did not change reality.

Argentina’s strength was obvious. They had 5 active NBA players, Manu Ginóbili, Fabricio Oberto, Andrés Nocioni, Carlos Delfino, and Luis Scola. That depth sat a tier above Greece.

Argentina won without suspense.

China’s semifinal date was set.

August 25, against the defending champions.

Everyone understood what that meant. At this stage, nobody was easy, but Argentina was a different kind of problem. Still, China had no choice except to go all in. It was the semifinals. There were no discounts.

For once, the media did not pile pressure onto the national team. In the eyes of the public, reaching the final 4 was already a miracle. Everything beyond it was extra.

...

August 25 arrived fast, and Wukesong felt heavier than it had all tournament.

During warmups, Chen Yan triggered another status improvement card.

He had been using them constantly in the Olympics. For him, every game felt like a final.

On the floor, Yao Ming greeted Luis Scola like an old friend. They had been teammates in Houston, and the relationship had always been good.

Then Manu Ginóbili walked over.

”Hi, Chen Yan.”

He greeted him, but the eyes were colder than Scola’s. The Suns had bounced the Spurs in the playoffs last season, and Chen Yan had been the biggest reason. Manu did not forget things like that.

Chen Yan stayed even.

”Hey, Manu.”

Club was club. National team was national team. He did not mix the two, and he did not carry NBA grudges into this jersey.

...

The lineups flashed on the big screen.

Argentina starters Pablo Prigioni, Manu Ginóbili, Andrés Nocioni, Luis Scola, Fabricio Oberto.

China starters Sun Dasheng, Chen Yan, Zhu 8, Yi Jianlian, Yao Ming.

Once the knockout round began, Sun Dasheng had effectively replaced Liu Wei as the starter. Liu Wei could organize and feed Yao, but Chen Yan could do that too, and frankly, he could do it better. Sun Dasheng brought point of attack defense, something China needed badly against teams like Argentina.

The game tipped, and immediately felt like a fistfight.

China’s first possession ended with Yi Jianlian missing a midrange jumper. Oberto secured the rebound.

Argentina pushed, but did not rush. With Ginóbili at the wheel, they slowed it into half court execution, like a veteran team turning a game into a math problem.

They ran action after action. One extra pass. One cut at the perfect moment.

Scola slipped behind the defense on a back cut and scored an easy 2.

After the bucket, he pointed at Ginóbili. Ginóbili pointed back. The kind of quick connection only teammates from the NBA really understood.

China came back.

As soon as Chen Yan crossed half court, Nocioni picked him up. Argentina’s starters knew Chen Yan’s range and they were not interested in learning the hard way again.

Chen Yan moved it quickly to Sun Dasheng, then cut hard toward the left baseline.

Sun Dasheng tossed it into Yao Ming.

Argentina doubled immediately, before Yao could even turn. But Yao had already read the floor. He snapped a pass to the corner.

Chen Yan caught it.

Prigioni flew over. Chen Yan swung it to the top.

Sun Dasheng, wide open.

He fired.

Clang.

The shot came out flat, off the front rim.

Ginóbili collected the rebound and again chose patience over speed. Argentina were not trying to win the first 6 minutes. They were trying to control the entire night.

They found Scola again.

Scola faced Yi Jianlian and went to work with footwork and angles, a blur of pivots and spins. Yi was still young, still learning how to survive against veterans who lived on timing. After a few turns, he lost the line completely.

Scola finished with a low layup.

4 to 0.

In the NBA, Scola was often treated like a high level role player. In international basketball, he looked like a surgeon.

China pushed back fast.

Chen Yan stopped 2 steps behind the 3 point line, ready to answer with a 3.

Nocioni lunged.

It was a fake.

Chen Yan waited just long enough for him to fly past, then prepared to rise.

Ginóbili slid over instantly.

Wave after wave, Argentina were swarming him. No clean looks, no easy rhythm. Make him work for every inch.

That attention came with a cost. Rotating this hard would leave someone open.

Chen Yan saw it and fired a cross court pass to Zhu 8 at the left wing.

Wide open.

Clang.

China started ice cold, 0 for 4, and Argentina punished it.

They stretched the run to 8 to 0, forcing Jonas to burn an early timeout.

It was not just nerves.

It was the bill coming due.

The schedule had been brutal. The CBA guys were not used to this pace of high intensity games stacked close together. Even Yao Ming looked a step heavy, still rebuilding after surgery and months without official games. Among the starters, only Chen Yan and Yi Jianlian had the kind of conditioning that held steady in this rhythm.

Out of the timeout, Chen Yan finally got a layup to fall, using a slick step through finish after a screen.

But Argentina answered right back with structured, disciplined half court offense.

The entire first quarter stayed ugly for China.

Outside of Chen Yan, no one could find a comfortable touch, including Yao Ming, who went just 1 for 3 in the opening period.

After 10 minutes, China trailed 18 to 26.

The semifinals had arrived, and the start was exactly as rough as the word sounded.

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