"In the second half, the Longhorns pulled off a comeback after trailing by 13 points, eliminating New Mexico State University and advancing to the top 32 of the NCAA tournament!"
"There's no doubt—Chen Yan was the game-changer tonight!"
"In just 10 minutes and 21 seconds on the court, he shot 9 of 11 from the field, hit 2 of 3 free throws, and racked up 20 points, 5 rebounds, 3 assists, and 3 steals!"
"Incredible! He completely turned the game around! From a nobody to the hero—Chen Yan led the Longhorns to victory with a clutch performance!"
The two live commentators almost stumbled over each other in excitement, racing to deliver their closing remarks.
"I told y'all! Chen's gonna shine in March Madness!"
As the buzzer sounded, Durant rushed over and hugged Chen Yan tightly.
Their reversal lit a fire in Durant, who, normally reserved and quiet, was now completely letting loose.
Soon, the whole team swarmed in.
Hugs, high-fives, back slaps—even playful headlocks. Every kind of body language was used to celebrate the moment.
Even though Durant dropped a game-high 31 points, in everyone's eyes, Chen Yan was the one who flipped the script.
If not for his impact, the headlines tonight would've been: Durant scores 31 in heartbreaking loss.
"Let's go, Longhorns!!"
"Great job, boys! You made us proud!"
"Keep winning! Nobody's stopping us!"
Texas fans in the stands roared with pride as the players and crowd merged into a frenzy of joy.
But while one side rejoiced, the other swallowed the bitter taste of defeat.
On the opposite end, many of the New Mexico State players were in tears.
The loss meant their season—and for some, their college careers—had just ended.
That's the harsh reality of the NCAA's single-elimination format: one game and it's all over.
Especially for the seniors—this was it. No second chances.
Still, their fans didn't boo or storm out. Instead, they stood and applauded their players with heartfelt appreciation.
These supporters had stood by the team for years, maybe decades. No matter the roster or the record, their loyalty never wavered.
That's the beauty of college basketball in the States—pure, passionate, and deeply personal.
"Boys, go show the other team our respect," Coach Rick Barnes said, looking at his players with firm eyes.
Chen Yan nodded and led the team across the court.
"You played great tonight," said Noah Richardson, eyes red as he shook Chen's hand.
He was a senior. Before tonight, he still dreamed of making the NBA. But after facing Chen Yan, he quietly let that dream go.
Maybe it was time to focus on the next chapter of life.
"You were solid too. You almost shut me down a couple times," Chen said, patting him on the shoulder.
Richardson's freshly dried tears threatened to fall again.
Bro, it's bad enough you cooked me on the court—did you have to hit me with that mental combo after?
He turned quickly, heading toward the tunnel, swallowing his emotions.
No way he was letting the ESPN camera catch him with a runny nose and puffy eyes.
But Chen Yan had no time to rest.
The ESPN reporter was already stepping forward with a bright smile.
"Chen! First off, congratulations on the win and making it to the top 32! The Longhorns were down big at one point—what helped you guys turn it around?"
Chen Yan leaned into the mic and answered calmly, "We never gave up hope."
"Has anyone ever told you your moves—especially your crossovers—look a lot like Iverson's?"
"Iverson's a legend. A Hall of Famer. I got mad respect for him," Chen replied with a slight smirk. "But I'm different—I'm bigger."
The blonde reporter flushed slightly. She knew he meant bigger in size, wingspan, and handles… but some instinctive reactions weren't easy to control.
Still, her professionalism kicked in instantly.
"Thoughts on your opponents tonight?"
"They played hard," Chen answered, sharing a quick knowing smile with her.
High EQ: They played hard.
Low EQ: They trash.
Those who got it, got it.
"You hit the floor when the team was trailing, but as soon as you got in, the momentum flipped. How'd it feel making that kind of debut?"
"Felt good. But not surprising. I just did my job."
"And what exactly is your job on the team?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Winning."
She smiled, sensing Chen Yan's charisma and confidence. He was made for the spotlight.
Nearby, Durant—who'd been listening behind him—froze in place.
Damn… is being cocky always this smooth?!
But Chen Yan's night wasn't over.
Right after the ESPN interview, he was approached by three NBA players—Steve Nash, Amar'e Stoudemire, and Grant Hill.
These kinds of interactions weren't rare in the NCAA, but Chen hadn't expected it to happen this fast.
"Yo, Chen! You killed it tonight, man. I might be turning into your fan," Nash said with a warm grin.
"Thank you," Chen replied, a bit surprised by Nash's down-to-earth vibe.
Amar'e Stoudemire clapped him on the shoulder. "That fast break and dunk? Cold as hell. Ain't nothin' like leading your team back from the dead, huh?"
Chen laughed. "Yeah, felt amazing—almost as amazing as having NBA stars know your name."
The three Suns burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the shout-out.
But Grant Hill's eyes told a different story. Watching Chen fly around the court reminded him of the past—of his own explosive style before injuries robbed him of his prime.
"Chen, you're real talented," Hill said sincerely. "But make sure you're protecting yourself when you land—knees, ankles. Don't take 'em for granted."
As Jordan's heir once upon a time, Hill had paid the price. Though the Suns' medical team revived his career, his lost years never came back.
"I will. Thank you," Chen nodded seriously.
"I hope to see you in the NBA soon," Hill smiled.
"Looking forward to sharing the court with you one day."
"Hah, sharing the court maybe—but going head-to-head? Nah, I'm too old for that now."
"Hahahaha—"
The three Suns cracked up again, and for Chen Yan, the night just kept getting better.