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Chapter 437 - Chapter 437: T0 Level, A Thrilling Winning Streak

Chapter 437: T0 Level, A Thrilling Winning Streak

"That was pretty," Kenny Smith said on TNT. "Half spin, step back, right over Chris Paul. Chen Yan came out and scored immediately."

Charles Barkley leaned back, amused. "Now I wanna see what Chris does. He gonna answer, or he gonna sit there and take it?"

The crowd wanted the answer too. A game like this only stayed hot if the stars went back and forth.

Paul did not disappoint.

He brought the ball over half court, waved his teammates away, and cleared a side. In his eyes, that opening mismatch isolation was not just a bucket. It was a message.

A challenge.

Paul snapped into a series of quick crossovers, then burst right. Nash stayed with him for a beat, but Paul instantly changed direction left, exploding off his plant foot.

Defense had never been Nash's calling card. His lateral quickness was the weak spot, and with age it only got harder to hide. So Nash did what smart veterans did. He gave Paul half a step, kept the angle, and lived with the space.

Shake all you want. I'm not reaching.

That was Nash's best option against a guard like Paul.

It bothered Paul anyway. The shot was there, but it did not feel clean. He took another hard dribble, rose from the high post, and fired.

Nash sprang up at full effort, not blocking it, but getting just enough in the airspace to disrupt the release.

Clang.

The ball hit iron. Stoudemire grabbed the rebound and immediately shoveled it to Grant Hill. Phoenix was running before Charlotte could breathe.

Hill took 2 dribbles up the sideline and found Nash. Meanwhile, Chen Yan was already building speed, slicing diagonally from the opposite side toward the middle.

Just inside the 3 point line, Nash threaded a bounce pass that skipped off the floor and landed in Chen Yan's hands in stride.

Rasual Butler reached for the steal and came up short. He missed the ball and lost position.

Paul had been tracking Chen Yan the whole time. The moment Chen Yan gathered and took off, Paul came flying in from behind at an angle and swiped.

Steals were Paul's signature. He led the league last season. Quick hands and elite timing were his gift.

But he misjudged this one.

Chen Yan's ball security was automatic. The instant he caught it, he naturally lifted the ball. Paul's swipe clipped forearm instead of leather.

Slap.

The contact sounded sharper than the whistle.

Chen Yan stumbled, shouted, and flung the ball toward the glass in a messy, off balance motion. He was not trying to make it pretty. He just wanted the call and 2 free throws.

The ball hit the backboard, bounced around the rim 4 times, and dropped.

And 1.

Chen Yan landed, then laughed when the camera found him. Those ridiculous shots always looked the same. Even the shooter did not believe it was going in.

The arena went quiet for a heartbeat.

The home crowd had come to see Paul dominate the guy they hated. Instead, Chen Yan had just put Paul in the highlight.

Kenny grinned. "Less than a minute in and Chen already gave you a top 5 moment. And Chris Paul is the background."

Barkley shook his head. "Man, either foul him hard or don't foul at all. That soft swipe just gave him a 3 point play."

Kenny kept smiling. "Chris tried to strip it."

Barkley snorted. "Yeah, and failed."

Charlotte did not replay the sequence on the big screen. They were not about to pump up the opponent's energy.

Chen Yan walked to the line, calm as ever.

Swish.

Since his free throw attribute climbed to 90, the routine looked even steadier. No extra motion, no drama, just the same clean release every time.

5 straight points to start.

Paul's competitive fire flared instantly.

On the next possession, Paul crossed half court, fed David West, then sprinted into a handoff. West flipped it back while screening Chen Yan. Diop switched, and Paul used the big defender like a practice cone, stringing together fakes before knocking down a jumper from the free throw line.

A classic small on big.

D'Antoni was the happiest man in the building seeing that. Paul and Nash were the same archetype, and when a point guard like that got locked into scoring mode, it usually helped Phoenix more than it helped the opponent.

Suns ball.

Chen Yan did not force it. He caught and swung the ball to Hill on the wing, treating the night like any other regular season game. Paul was playing emotional. Chen Yan was playing professional.

Hill jabbed, drove, and quickly felt the years in his legs. He could not separate from Peja. After 2 steps, he twisted and kicked to Nash up top.

Stoudemire came to set a screen. Tyson Chandler switched. Nash took 1 step right and zipped it into Stoudemire at the high post, letting him punish the mismatch on Paul.

Stoudemire had a huge height edge, but he did not dare to face up. Paul's hands were too quick and his base was too low. Stoudemire might not even get into his move before the ball was gone.

So he went into the post.

He backed him down once.

Twice.

A third time.

And got nowhere.

The crowd reacted, surprised. People assumed it would be automatic. Instead, Paul held his ground.

Stoudemire finally settled for a turnaround jumper from the high post.

Miss.

Paul's core strength and toughness were better than most fans realized. Even Stoudemire underestimated it, or that possession never looks so awkward.

Against Paul, you either shoot immediately, or you get deep and go straight up over him at the rim. Everything in between was risk.

Charlotte tried to run. Paul crossed half court, wanted another mid range look, but Phoenix got back fast. He reset, called West into a pick and roll, and this time the Suns did not switch.

Nash fought over the screen. Paul hit the gap, got into the lane, and floated it in.

5 to 4.

Paul was hunting shots, and he was doing it with real urgency. By halftime, he already had 20 points.

But he was burning too much fuel.

He took too many shots in the first 2 quarters and did not connect his teammates enough. Charlotte's offense felt like scattered possessions instead of a system. At the break, the second leading scorer was West with 8 points, and the Hornets were down 15.

61 to 46.

In the locker room, Byron Scott lit into them, and Paul finally adjusted. He came out in the second half looking to create more.

The problem was rhythm.

Guys had barely touched the ball in the first half. Now they were being asked to suddenly make shots and decisions on the fly. A few minutes passed, and the deficit did not shrink.

It grew.

Paul was forced back into attack mode.

In the fourth, Peja finally warmed up, and with Paul they cut the gap to around 10. For a moment it felt like the building might flip.

Then Charlotte went cold.

A 2 minute and 30 second scoring drought stretched the lead right back near 20, and the comeback died where it stood.

Paul and Peja both had real limitations. Paul was undersized, and there was only so much scoring burst he could generate every possession. Peja could shoot, but he could not create. He needed someone to feed him.

At the buzzer, Phoenix walked out with a 109 to 88 win.

Paul finished with a game high 39 points, and his team still lost by more than 20. That kind of night did not feel like success.

Phoenix's winning streak kept rolling, and so did the Lakers'. Both teams were performing in a way that felt abnormal. The Suns were an offensive storm every night. The Lakers were balanced on both ends, ruthless and clean.

A little over a month into the season, the media was already using the same label for both teams.

T0 level.

From Charlotte, the Suns flew straight to Dallas.

The Mavericks were 3rd in the West, a real seed, not a fake early season record. And that night turned into a war.

Nowitzki went nuclear. Phoenix struggled to contain him, possession after possession.

With 17 seconds left in regulation, it was 99 to 99, Dallas ball.

Jason Kidd initiated from the top. Dirk drew the double team and kicked it out to Ron Artest.

Artest caught it and fired a 3 immediately, no hesitation, no conscience.

He was 0 for 5 from 3 before that shot. His mentality was simple.

I got it, I'm shooting.

Clang.

Phoenix survived, and the game went to overtime.

In OT, it stayed violent.

With 27 seconds left, Chen Yan used his speed to knife into the paint. Before the second defender could clamp down, he whipped an extreme pass back out.

It was not dumping pressure. It was the right play.

Nash was wide open.

Nash caught and shot instantly, no extra dribble, no adjustment.

Swish.

Phoenix took the lead.

Dallas went right back to Dirk for the answer. Phoenix doubled hard, Diop and Nash bodying him from front and back, refusing to let him turn.

Dirk had to give it up, swinging it to Kidd on the perimeter. Kidd had only 5 points all game. Asking him to be the hero there was too much.

Kidd moved it sideways.

Right back to Artest.

Artest rose for another 3, just as confident as the first miss.

Every Mavericks fan had the same thought.

Don't shoot.

Clang.

Even Mark Cuban covered his head.

Stoudemire grabbed the rebound and Dallas had no choice but to foul.

Swish.

Swish.

2 free throws.

Phoenix led by 4 with 7.9 seconds left, and Dallas had no timeouts.

Kidd raced it over half court, kicked to Jason Terry, and Terry launched a desperate deep 3.

Miss.

Dampier grabbed the rebound and shoveled it to Dirk. Dirk hit a 3, but the buzzer sounded as it went through.

Too late.

Phoenix escaped, 111 to 110.

Dirk finished with 49 points, the best player on the floor by a wide margin, and still could not stop Phoenix's Big 3.

After the Dallas game, the Suns flew straight to Utah. They had only 1 day to recover, and now they had to deal with the Jazz at altitude.

Phoenix looked heavy from the opening tip. Their legs were late, their timing was off, and they never found rhythm early.

It was the most fatigued the Suns had looked all season.

They trailed for 3 quarters.

Then, in the final 2 minutes, Chen Yan ripped the game out of Utah's hands, drilling 2 huge 3s to force the lead.

In the last moments, he made it worse.

He jumped Deron Williams's pass and stole it clean, sealing the win.

No drama after that.

Just relief.

Back in the locker room, the Suns finally breathed again. The road trip from hell was over, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they had 2 days of rest waiting for them.

.....

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