NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 29: Stealing the Opening and Igniting the Crowd! Durant Hits Foul Trouble Early

After the opening ceremony, the arena lights dimmed as the jumbotron lit up, displaying the starting lineups for both teams.

Texas Longhorns Starting Five:

DJ Augustin (PG)

Chen Yan (SG)

Kevin Durant (SF)

Damion James (PF)

Dexter Pittman (C)

This was Texas's strongest lineup—one they'd leaned on all tournament long.

Florida Gators Starting Five:

Taurean Green (PG)

Fryhan (SG)

Corey Brewer (SF)

Al Horford (PF)

Joakim Noah (C)

No introduction needed here—four future NBA players, three of whom were projected lottery picks.

The only question mark? Fryhan. While not NBA-caliber, he was a seasoned senior—the most experienced player on the floor.

If Texas brought its best five, Florida's starting lineup was, without question, the most elite in the NCAA.

The moment the ref blew the opening whistle, a roar thundered through the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's game time!"

"Texas in orange. Florida in white. Let's get it on!"

"Pittman wins the tip! Longhorns ball to start!"

Van Gundy and Mike Breen barely had time to finish their sentence when an orange blur streaked across the screen.

"Get back! Get back!!" Florida head coach Billy Donovan was already shouting from the sideline.

But it was too late—Chen Yan was already gone.

He'd activated Wind Step, burning up the hardwood as he sprinted toward the arc.

The camera could barely keep up.

Durant, standing at the center circle, saw him take off—and instinctively fired a long outlet pass downcourt.

After all, they'd shared countless late nights and even a single packet of instant noodles together. That kind of brotherhood bred chemistry.

Chen planted one foot and launched.

The Texas fans rose to their feet, ready for an opening statement slam.

But the ball? It kept sailing.

Higher. Wider. Further.

Way off.

Durant, averaging just 1.3 assists a game, clearly wasn't built for long bombs like this. Passing across half-court? Not his thing.

His eyes widened. His mouth twitched.

Durant was already cycling through 58 different ways to apologize.

And then it happened.

Mid-air magic.

Chen Yan leaned back—a full 30 degrees—grabbed the ball with his left hand, then twisted mid-air and finished with a right-handed reverse layup.

Alley-oop. Change hands. Mid-air body control.

And he pulled it off while falling backward.

"OH MY GOODNESS! How in the world did he make that?!"

"I thought that pass was headed straight out of bounds!"

"What kind of core strength is that? What kind of body control?! Unreal!"

"Chen just turned Durant's mess into a masterpiece!"

He didn't need a monster dunk to set the crowd on fire.

That aerial acrobatics show had everyone on their feet.

Even Kobe, watching from the stands, cracked a smile.

"Man… what kinda waist is that? Might be better than mine."

Odom chuckled beside him. He was used to Kobe's narcissism.

As soon as Chen landed, he didn't pause to celebrate.

He glanced up at the scoreboard—and sprinted back on defense.

Slow-mo replays showed the ball had drifted behind the backboard when Chen caught it.

That pass was insane.

And the finish?

Pure poetry.

"Behind every insane alley-oop... is an even crazier pass."

Today, Chen got the full experience.

The crowd lost it.

The bench exploded.

Difficulty rating: 5.0.

Execution: flawless.

Florida guard Fryhan stood frozen.

He came into this season hoping to make his NBA case as a senior.

After that highlight? He wasn't sure if he'd ever get there.

Experience helps—but it can't beat raw talent.

Meanwhile, Durant—who'd been preparing to apologize—flipped the script fast.

His 58 apologies turned into 58 different celebration moves.

"Chen! That was a SHOW! Come on, tell me that pass was elite!"

Durant jogged over for a chest bump and high five.

Chen gave him a side glance, eyebrow raised.

"Elite? Bro, that was a war crime."

But the game marched on.

Florida wasn't rattled. Chen's opening stunt was just a blip in their game plan.

Taurean Green brought the ball up, Brewer cut to the high post for the handoff.

"BEEP!"

Whistle blew.

Defensive foul.

Durant again.

His closeout was too aggressive—he'd knocked Brewer's headband clean off.

No choice for the ref but to call it.

"KD! Calm down! The game just started!"

Coach Rick Barnes was already barking from the sideline.

"Got it, Coach! I'm chill!" Durant replied, bouncing on his heels.

But Barnes had a bad feeling.

This guy was way too hyped tonight.

The ball was inbounded from the sideline, and Florida ran a textbook team-play sequence.

Horford set up at the high post and zipped a pass down low to Noah.

Noah caught it on the block, spun halfway, then kicked it out to Taurean Green in the corner.

Green faked the shot, drove baseline, drew the help defense, and kicked it out to Fryhan at the top of the arc.

Fryhan didn't even hesitate—catch-and-swing to Brewer at the 45.

Wide open.

Brewer let it fly.

"Swish!"

Pure.

"Florida executed that possession perfectly. All five guys touched the ball," Mike Breen commented.

Van Gundy nodded.

"That's why all five of Florida's starters average double figures. Coach Donovan makes sure everyone gets involved. It's beautiful basketball."

Now it was Texas' turn.

DJ Augustin brought the ball past half court. He didn't give it up to Chen Yan or Durant.

Instead, he used a screen and attacked the paint himself.

But Noah was there to meet him at the rim, so DJ kicked it out to Chen Yan at the top.

Chen Yan took the pass beyond the arc and called for Pittman to set the screen.

He went left—Pittman sealed off Fryhan hard. Noah switched over quickly to cut him off.

Chen Yan vs. Noah. 1-on-1.

They'd already chirped at each other pre-game, but neither thought the matchup would happen this soon.

Chen didn't rush it. He backed Noah down toward the three-point line, creating more space to work with.

Noah took it personally.

He dropped into a low stance, slapped the floor twice, and shouted, "Come on!"

Classic Noah—fiery and animated. He wasn't just the Gators' big man. He was their heartbeat.

He played with such passion that fans either loved him or made YouTube edits just to clown him. But Noah didn't care. He thrived on the noise.

The crowd started buzzing. Everyone could feel it—this was about to be a moment.

Iverson once said he'd never miss a chance to hit a crossover on a big man.

But Chen Yan?

He lived for that kind of moment.

He switched the ball to his left hand, threw a quick cross, then snapped it back hard with a killer left-handed crossover.

Noah froze.

One step behind. Feet stuck.

"Whoa!! Noah is frozen! Chen Yan pulls out that freezing trick again!" Mike Breen shouted, nearly leaping from his seat.

The move had a nickname already—"The Frozen Pass"—because Chen had a habit of crossing defenders into statues.

With Noah out of the play, Horford stepped up. Chen faked the jumper—Horford bit hard.

Big first step, gliding past.

Easy layup.

4–2.

The arena erupted. Fans were on their feet, and Chen Yan gave them a show right out the gate.

On the Texas bench, towels were spinning like helicopter blades.

Chen just embarrassed both of Florida's bigs on a single play.

Noah?

That clip was definitely going viral.

But the dude had skin like armor. He wasn't rattled.

If anything, he got even more fired up.

Next possession, Horford missed a mid-range jumper—but Noah crashed hard, snatched the offensive board, and tipped it in.

4–4.

"AHHHHH!!"

Noah screamed right into the baseline camera like a man possessed.

The broadcast cut to a close-up of a dreadlocked man with a warm smile—his father, Yannick Noah.

A former French Open champion in tennis and a chart-topping reggae artist in France, Yannick passed on both his athletic fire and artistic soul to his son.

Noah's wild curls and boundless energy made that obvious.

The game was electric from the start—back and forth, neither side giving an inch.

The first big shift came at the 7-minute mark.

Florida had the ball when Durant reached in on a steal attempt—and got whistled for his second foul.

Two quick ones.

NCAA rules only allow five fouls before disqualification, unlike the NBA's six.

Coach Rick Barnes didn't hesitate. He had to pull his prized freshman and sit him early.

A tough call. That one foul blew up his whole rotation plan.

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