NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 20: Crazy Female Fans! NBA Teams Are Paying Attention!

Fame had come crashing down on Chen Yan like a tidal wave—and fast.

Ever since his 62-point outburst in March Madness, his entire life had flipped upside down. Walking through campus felt like stepping onto a red carpet. Students swarmed him for autographs and selfies, and surprisingly, even professors from the University of Texas weren't shy about asking for a picture with their campus legend.

But it wasn't just the attention—it was the type of attention.

While taking pictures, Chen Yan often felt... hands. Occasionally on his arm. Sometimes on his back. Once on his thigh.

Thankfully, it was always girls. He didn't say anything, just smiled and endured it. But if a guy tried that?

Yeah, nah. Chen would've called the damn cops.

And the female fans? They weren't just passionate anymore. They'd evolved into something... wilder.

Notes turned into bras.

Flirty glances turned into thong drops.

Chen Yan even got a pair of rhinestone-studded nipple covers tossed into his gym bag. Seriously.

"America's open-minded," he muttered one night, staring at the lacey thing like it was radioactive. "But this... this is the f**king Serengeti."

After going nuclear in March Madness, his world was spiraling into full-blown madness. And Chen knew—some girls were in it for love, but others just saw dollar signs and NBA dreams.

Still, he stayed locked in.

Four days left until the next game. No distractions. No parties. No getting weak in the knees—or elsewhere.

---

Then came the news: Elite Eight matchup confirmed.

Texas vs. Georgetown.

The game would be held at the FedExForum in Memphis, home of the Grizzlies—a real NBA-level venue. Bright lights, massive crowd, pressure in the air. This wasn't just a college game anymore.

Georgetown was no joke. Their legacy was stacked: "The Gorilla" Patrick Ewing, Alonzo "Kidney Warrior" Mourning, and Allen "The Answer" Iverson—legends who had carved their names into the NBA.

Texas, by comparison? Light on history. No Hall of Famers to brag about. But none of that mattered.

Because basketball didn't care about past glory—it cared about now.

And right now? Texas was hot.

They were riding a wave of confidence after back-to-back statement wins. But Coach wasn't letting anyone get cocky. Practices were extended, workouts intensified, and the team had been grinding through hours of game film, studying Georgetown like it was Game 7 of the NBA Finals.

Win or go home.

This was the death match format of March Madness—one mistake, one missed rotation, and it's all over. No second chances. No tomorrow.

Coach's philosophy was clear: "Disrespect them in your heart, but respect them on the court."

---

Georgetown had every reason to be proud.

March 3, 2007 — they secured their first regular-season conference title since '89.

March 10 — they took down the University of Pittsburgh to clinch the Big East Championship, their first in nearly two decades.

And the engine behind it all?

Jeff Green.

Versatile. Tall. Calm under pressure. The guy was a matchup nightmare.

He'd just dropped a game-winner in the Sweet 16 against Vanderbilt. Ice in his veins.

On paper, Jeff wasn't elite in any one category—but he was good at almost everything. As a small forward, he had post moves, vision, and size. But he lacked the speed and killer scoring instinct. As a power forward, he was quick and skillful—but soft on the boards and shaky on defense in the paint.

Still—he was Georgetown's glue guy. Their silent leader.

Averaging 14.3 points, 6.4 rebounds, and 3.2 assists, he wasn't flashy—but he was effective.

In addition to Jeff Green, Georgetown boasts another player worth serious attention—Roy Hibbert, a towering 7'2" (218 cm) black center.

This season, Hibbert has averaged 26.3 minutes per game, delivering 13.4 points, 6.4 rebounds, 1.9 assists, and an imposing 2.2 blocks. He's not just a big body in the paint—he's their defensive anchor and a reliable offensive presence. Together, Hibbert and Green form a one-two punch that could pose the biggest threat to the University of Texas's Cinderella run.

---

Memphis – FedEx Forum, Executive Office

Inside the Grizzlies' front office, team owner Michael Heisley and GM Jerry West sat deep in conversation—but surprisingly, it wasn't about the struggling Grizzlies.

With Pau Gasol sidelined and the team sinking to the bottom of the standings, any talk of playoffs had long been thrown out the window. These days, the focus had shifted to something with actual hope: the upcoming NBA Draft.

"Jerry, are you really considering that shooting guard from Texas?" Heisley asked with a raised brow.

Jerry West cracked a smile. "Isn't he something special?"

"I read a few scouting reports. Dropping 62 in a single game is wild, no doubt. But the kid looks too skinny. And he barely shoots from deep. That's a red flag in today's game," Heisley said, his tone laced with doubt.

West didn't respond immediately, but Heisley kept going.

"Honestly, I'd take Jeff Green. More polished. If we land a top pick, we could even swing for Oden or Durant."

Jerry finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.

"Michael, you know how to tell a real diamond from a fake one?"

Heisley looked puzzled.

"The fake ones are flawless. Real diamonds? They've got imperfections."

It took a second, but the meaning sank in. Jerry West believed Chen Yan—despite his flaws—was the real deal.

And when a guy like Jerry West, the same man who once traded an All-Star big for a teenage Kobe Bryant, speaks? You listen.

West wasn't swayed by stat sheets or surface-level polish. He saw something raw, something unteachable in Chen Yan's game—heart, swagger, and a fearless scoring instinct. That's the kind of player you build around.

---

Chicago – United Center, Bulls Front Office

"Listen to me—we have to get that kid. He's the future of this franchise!" Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf practically shouted across the table.

He'd just finished watching Chen Yan's Sweet 16 performance and was all-in.

Head coach Scott Skiles, however, wasn't quite convinced.

"Boss, with all due respect… what we really need is a dominant big man."

Reinsdorf didn't flinch. "That's what people said when we drafted Jordan."

Silence.

Skiles had no comeback. The room went dead quiet. One sentence, and the argument was over.

---

Charlotte – Bobcats Front Office

Not everyone in the league shared the same vision.

Rod Higgins, the Bobcats' GM, had just finished replaying Chen Yan's highlights for the third time.

"Boss, did you see that? He's electric! That's our guy right there!"

But Michael Jordan, team owner and infamous draft gambler, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"I saw the highlights. He's good. But I already have my eyes set. I'm picking between Brandon White and Asilao."

Rod Higgins just stared at him, dumbfounded.

Brandon White and Asilao? Who?

He didn't even want to respond. Jordan's track record in the draft was straight-up cursed. Kwame Brown. Adam Morrison. The man picked like he was playing 2K on auto-sim.

Higgins felt the frustration bubble up. If Jordan weren't his boss, he might've slapped some sense into him right then and there.