Not Necessarily

Not Necessarily In the few days before classes officially began and the team assembled, Xu Ling became the earliest to arrive and the last to leave—a ghost in the Texas Tech basketball arena. He ran the most basic dribbling drills on the empty court, savoring the unmatched control his enlarged hands gave him over the ball, along with the new rhythm of a lowered center of gravity that came with his added height. Then he put up a great many jump shots to recalibrate his "scope." He stood at every spot on the floor he knew so well from his previous life and shot again and again, carefully feeling out how his power delivery and shooting arc had to change because of his new wingspan and height. After a few days, a clear, exhilarating feeling gradually replaced the initial awkwardness. Xu Ling could feel himself growing more and more accustomed to this brand-new body. ※※※ Since the start of the new century, the outstanding performances of foreign players such as Yao Ming, Nowitzki, Ginobili, and Parker had proven that the world outside the United States could also produce world-class basketball players. The globalization the NBA had been pushing since the 1990s had finally taken a crucial step—globalizing talent selection. A few years earlier, NBA front offices had even fallen for the notion that the outside monk chants scripture better. They would rather overlook the homegrown college players they understood well than pick foreign players who looked talented but whose fundamentals were still rough blanks, and thus happily collected one "thanks for playing" draft lottery ticket after another. The NBA's draft pool now faced the whole world, and NCAA recruiting had also begun to turn overseas, especially at mid-major schools whose domestic recruiting was going poorly. Xu Ling's school, for example—Texas Tech. TTU's basketball program was feeble. Its best finish in history was the Sweet Sixteen. Bob Knight, the legendary coach at Indiana University, gave an impolite student a "lesson in manners" on campus. That triggered the school's zero-tolerance clause, and he was fired. Knight sat out a year before setting out again. He accepted TTU's invitation and became the head coach of Texas Tech. Over the past five years, he had taken the team to March Madness three times, and in 2005 they stormed into the Sweet Sixteen, matching the best result in school history. But that was all. For TTU, that was a very good result. For Knight, it was not. For a coach who had already won every honor college basketball had to offer by the mid-1980s and had led the U.S. team to an Olympic gold, the Sweet Sixteen was bitter. Knight had to admit that his era was over. He could no longer persuade the parents of teenage prodigies the way he once had, by telling them, "Come to my school, and I'll make sure your son leaves campus with a degree." Because in this day and age, a "degree" didn't matter much to a player headed for the NBA. They just wanted to get to the NBA and make big money as fast as possible. It was a conflict between the old era and the new. If Knight clung stubbornly to his own way, it would be impossible for him to recruit top players willing to promise three or even four years in college. So, to cure this chronic problem, part of TTU's recruiting focus had to shift overseas. And that was why Xu Ling and his family chose TTU. TTU's academics ranked above average among American universities, and there was a legendary coach like Knight, who taught kids not only how to play ball but how to be a person. More importantly, if a kid's grades didn't meet the standard, he couldn't play. How wonderful was that? With a mentor this good, even the real risk of having your neck grabbed was worth it, right? Another school year was beginning, and after a devastating 2005-06 season, TTU desperately needed to regroup. "Coach, how's this year's freshman class looking?" On the court, a senior doing stretches asked an assistant coach. "I believe someone in this group will be the team's future." There wasn't much confidence in the assistant's voice. The senior who'd asked said mockingly, "I hope they've got more spine than that bunch of bastards last year!" The topic was dropped right there. Inside TTU, "last year" had become a taboo phrase. Soon, the freshmen appeared. Xu Ling and Roderick Craig were the first to arrive. Right after them, they saw a man walking toward them who looked like Chandler Bing from the later seasons of Friends, after the actor's off-screen drug use changed his appearance. He was the assistant coach in charge of TTU's overseas recruiting, Pat Knight, also the son of head coach Bob Knight. "You two look in good spirits!" Little Knight warmly led them over to the veterans doing their stretches. "This is our captain, Jarrius Jackson (SG/PG)." Jackson said airily, "Just call me JJ." "Hello, Captain. I'm Roderick Craig, from Portola Valley, California. Call me whatever you like!" Craig said excitedly. "I still have a lot to learn. I'm definitely going to learn well from all of you!" This Black guy was being so humble it hardly sounded like him. Xu Ling quickly rolled his eyes, then said, "I'm Xu Ling, from China. You can call me Eli." Jackson replied flatly, "Nice to meet you." Clearly, TTU's current captain was not a warm person. Little Knight then said, "You really should learn a lot from JJ, because he's not only our captain but also 'The General's' most prized disciple in Lubbock, and the finest scorer in the Big 12!" Little Knight's flattery felt good to Jackson. He gave no reaction at all, only smiled. Craig's face was full of admiration, while Xu Ling had a question in his mind: Who's The General? The question flashed by for only an instant before the original Xu Ling's memories quickly made him realize whom "The General" referred to. Naturally, it was the NCAA legend and legendary coach whose place in the history of college basketball coaches was second only to the top, the deputy GOAT, Bob Knight: the master of skipping class in a Puerto Rican prison, the godfather of donkey-hat fashion, the ballistics expert of flying chairs, the signatory of a unilateral ceasefire during a warm-up game, a philosopher of demeaning women, a performance artist of floggings, and a philanthropist of NCAA fines. Then came the meeting between the freshmen and the veterans. Besides Captain Jackson, whom they'd already greeted, TTU had one other senior, Darryl Dora (C/PF), who was expected to be a main rotation big man next season. Then came the juniors—there were only two of them as well: Damir Suljagic (C), a white big man from Arizona, and Martin Zeno (SG), the team's second-leading scorer. Finally came the sophomores. There were only two on the team, too: Alan Voskuil (SG), a Dane, and the white forward Michael Prince. What on earth had happened to this team? Why was its roster structure so unhealthy? Though the gap between Chinese and American basketball was huge, the way college basketball builds its pipeline was, in the end, simple: senior core, junior backbone, sophomore potential, freshman fresh blood. Usually, upperclassmen would take up more than half of the starting spots. Only schools with extremely high recruiting quality, like Kentucky, Kansas, and Duke, would make heavy use of freshmen. For a team like TTU, which aimed at March Madness every year, letting upperclassmen carry the load was normal. But the sophomore class, as the team's future, should normally make up about a third of the roster, to be developed into future core players. Yet TTU's sophomore class this time had been almost "left fallow," with only two players in it. With such a top-heavy, bottom-light roster structure, once injuries or off-court attrition hit, the team would face the awkward situation of having no one to use. The coaching staff had clearly recognized this hidden danger, which was why TTU had recruited seven freshmen this year. But after they were introduced to one another, Xu Ling found that his class didn't seem to have anyone worth building around either. The most direct evidence was that, apart from two junior college transfers and Xu Ling himself, a foreign student, the other three freshmen from the U.S. had not made the top 100 high school players of the 2006 class. In other words, there wasn't even a single nominal four-star recruit among them. It seemed the name Bob Knight no longer held any appeal for today's players. Formal training began soon. Under the assistant coach's direction, all the players went through TTU's most famous conditioning program, the "Inferno Circuit." It was said to be something Bob Knight had brought from Indiana University. It included full-court sprint shuttle runs, fast lateral defensive slides, and dribble sprints, with guards given specialized ball-handling work and bigs adding a strength drill, repeated for one to three sets. The veterans barely held on, but the freshmen suffered badly. Xu Ling had started with full confidence. His college in his previous life had much weaker talent than the top schools, but what let it reach the national tournament every year was its hellish training. His stamina was absolutely fine. Yes, he was fine. The original Xu Ling was not. After one set of the "Inferno Circuit," Xu Ling was nearly spent, as if he had taken on a challenge to bring ten female teachers to their peak without a break, in the manner of Yutaka Mukoyama. The other freshmen weren't much better off. The only one who could stand steady was Roderick Craig, and that wasn't because his stamina was good, but because he was still carrying some injury and couldn't go all out. As for exactly what the injury was, the coaching staff didn't say. Then Bob Knight walked into the arena. As rumor had it, he wore the same sweater in every season. Though he was in his later years, his frame was still sturdy. His white hair was combed without a single strand out of place, and his eyes flashed with a sharp light that seemed to see through everything. "Boys, I'll be blunt," Knight said coldly. "You are the worst in TTU history! The worst! The most fucking awful freshmen ever!" "Not necessarily." Knight strode over to Xu Ling, almost pressing his face against Xu Ling's, and roared, "What—did—you—say?!!" Xu Ling did not retreat half a step. Calmly meeting Knight's almost fiery gaze, he repeated what he had just said: "We're not necessarily the worst, Coach." "Oh?" Knight was so furious he laughed, but his voice grew even colder. "Based on what? Do you think you're more qualified than I am to judge players' level?" "No." Xu Ling shook his head, yet spoke with certainty. "Based on the fact that you passed judgment without having watched any one of us play a game. That isn't the kind of judgment a great coach should make." "Give us a chance, Coach. Give us a chance to prove in training that you're not wrong. Otherwise, you're not cursing us—you're cursing yourself and TTU's recruiting." Ignoring Knight's increasingly frigid expression, Xu Ling went on, "You and your staff are the ones who recruited this batch of 'worst' players." In an instant, the arena fell dead silent. For the first time, veteran JJ Jackson's face showed not mockery but genuine surprise. Knight stared hard at Xu Ling, his gaze as if he wanted to swallow him whole. Only a few seconds passed, yet they felt as long as years. Suddenly, the rage on Knight's face receded like a tide, and a sentence popped out from between his teeth: "Fine. Rookie, you'd better pray your game is half as good as your mouth." With that, the tyrant renowned throughout the NCAA turned and bellowed at the whole team, "What the fuck are you still looking at! Keep training! I want to see whether there's anyone in this damned freshman class of yours who isn't the 'worst'!" 1 In the 1970s, he was wanted for assaulting the police in Puerto Rico. 2 To humiliate archrival Purdue, he brought a donkey onto a TV show and put a Purdue cap on it. 3 Everyone probably knows he threw a chair during a game in the 1984-85 season. 4 Leading his team in a warm-up game against the Soviet men's national team on their home court, he ran into a referee he had a grudge with, got ejected, and then led his team in refusing to play. 5 The above is only part of his public record.