The First Time a Man Said That to Me

The crowd had braced for a fierce clash of titans, but no one could have predicted that Texas Tech would dominate the second-ranked University of Kansas from start to finish. Anyone who watched the game could point to the exact reason Kansas had lost. "The Jayhawks couldn't handle Eli—that's the only reason they lost," Dick Vitale proclaimed. Final score: 89 to 66. Texas Tech triumphed by twenty-three points, clinching the 2006–07 Big 12 Conference championship. Xu Ling was named the Big 12 tournament MVP. Isiah Thomas rose to his feet. He had come tonight hoping to see an intriguing young prospect, but he never expected to witness a blue-chip talent that would completely steal his heart. Before the season tipped off, the 2007 draft hype had belonged solely to Greg Oden and Kevin Durant. The scouts' frantic buzz had reached front offices across the league, convincing them that Oden and Durant were future superstars worthy of becoming the faces of a franchise. Then, in just a few short months, Xu Ling had propelled his draft stock from non-existent all the way into the projected top five, standing alongside Durant and Oden as part of the freshman "Big Three." His rise had been so meteoric that perhaps even he hadn't anticipated becoming the defining sensation of college basketball. Yet NBA front offices were still playing catch-up. Most teams bound for the draft lottery remained fixated on Oden and Durant. After tonight's performance, however, Thomas was convinced that Xu Ling was a generational talent on par with Durant. Perhaps Durant possessed the theoretical ceiling to become the greatest ever, but Thomas put no stock in such airy promises. He had seen far too many players blessed with a high "ceiling" who ended up crashing straight through the floor. "Eli..." Thomas murmured. "He's not even nineteen, but his skill, talent, and maturity are more than enough to make him the cornerstone of a title contender. Give me the number-two pick, and I'd pass on Kevin Durant to take him without a second thought!" Recency bias was on full display. Thomas was completely entranced by the magnificent future taking shape in his mind. Then his accompanying assistant gently reminded him, "Mr. Thomas, we might not have that chance..." "We definitely will!" Thomas replied with absolute conviction. The assistant, likely hoping to spare Thomas the pain of reality, pressed on. "But we don't have our 2007 first-round pick..." Thomas's cheek twitched, and he fell silent. As the Knicks' head honcho, his most outrageous blunder hadn't been handing an unplayable Jerome James a five-year, thirty-million-dollar contract. It was the summer of 2005, when he became convinced Eddy Curry was the next Shaquille O'Neal. Despite warnings about Curry's irregular heartbeat, Thomas adamantly orchestrated a sign-and-trade with the Chicago Bulls. In that disastrous deal, he surrendered a 2006 first-round pick swap and an unprotected 2007 first-round pick. Fast forward to the present, and Curry's heart condition, runaway weight, and family drama made it clear that rather than hoping he might become the next Shaq, they would be lucky if he developed into a serviceable professional. In his two years with the Knicks, the time he spent collecting paychecks while trying to lose weight almost exceeded his time on the hardwood. As for the two first-round picks surrendered to the Bulls, one had already materialized as LaMarcus Aldridge the previous year. If the Knicks' luck was "good" enough, they could theoretically tank their way to handing Kevin Durant or Greg Oden straight to Chicago. On top of that, 2007 was the deepest draft class since 2003, making it nearly impossible to trade into the top of the board. The assistant had dragged Thomas back down to earth. Yet how could such a burning infatuation be snuffed out so easily? Thomas still believed his battered Knicks had assets to move. They weren't completely hopeless. "Listen, Rooney. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade." Leaving his assistant with that platitude, Thomas waved a hand and set off to congratulate his former coach. The Big 12 tournament championship trophy was something the Red Raiders hadn't dared to dream of before the season began. Now, it was reality. They were conference champions, punching their ticket to March Madness as the Big 12's number-one seed. None of this would have been possible without Xu Ling, who had poured in 32 points, 9 rebounds, 6 assists, 4 steals, and 2 blocks tonight. His teammates understood that better than anyone. The moment the final buzzer sounded, they swarmed Xu Ling, pulling him into a frantic, wild celebration. Bob Knight stood by the sideline as reporters from every major national outlet jockeyed to shove microphones in front of him. It felt like a lifetime ago. Knight had thought he would never stand before the press again as a conference champion. When was the last time he had hoisted one? 1995? 1993? He couldn't even remember. "Coach, what do you think brought your team to this point?" *Eli. Does that even need asking?* Knight shot the reporter a look. Sure enough, another fool from the Associated Press. Did that outlet serve any purpose beyond giving uninformed casuals a weekly vote to rank the top twenty colleges based on whims? "Courage and pride in representing this school are what brought us here," Knight said, knowing when to deploy standard coach-speak. "I couldn't be prouder of these kids!" "Eli was completely dominant tonight. Do you think he'll declare for the NBA draft after the season, or could he return for a sophomore year?" *That's just what a college Jordan is supposed to do. What's there to make a fuss about? And don't fucking remind me that he's getting the hell out of here after the season!* Knight's mind churned like a tempest, yet his face remained as calm as a placid lake. "A mature man will do whatever is in his best interest. I'll support whatever decision he makes." Another reporter followed up: "This is your first conference championship since 1993. How does this group compare to that 1993 Indiana squad?" "Well, thanks for the reminder. Now I know when my last conference title was." The 1993 Indiana Hoosiers represented more than just Knight's last conference crown before tonight; it was also the last time he coached the nation's AP number-one team. *Oh, the immense credibility of the AP...* That Indiana team had swept through the Big Ten, finishing the year 31–4 before falling in the Elite Eight. Sometimes you had to believe in fate—that loss had come against the Kansas Jayhawks, too. "I won't compare this team to the 1993 group," Knight said, slipping into nostalgia. "Different starting points, different journeys, and different expectations." So how did Knight feel about his former home at Indiana University now? Had he let it go? Was it all water under the bridge? A reporter from Indiana seized the moment. "Coach, have you forgiven the people at Indiana? Have you decided to move on?" All the warmth and lingering nostalgia vanished in an instant. Knight's face turned to stone, his voice dropping ten octaves, the words rumbling up from the depths of his chest: "No. I hope they're all dead." The gathered reporters caught their breath. Tomorrow, those words would surely overshadow Texas Tech's conference crown and seize the front page of every sports section in the country. *The General's Curse.* What a headline that would make. Xu Ling also took his turn with the media, but his answers were thoroughly polished and diplomatic, offering no controversy whatsoever. At the time, Xu Ling had no idea what Knight had just told the press. Now firmly established as a marquee draft prospect, he no longer needed to make provocative remarks to drum up hype as he had early in the season. They celebrated the victory, hoisted the trophy, and headed back to the locker room to revel before turning their focus toward March Madness. On his way down the tunnel, Xu Ling spotted Isiah Thomas waiting outside the locker room door, wearing a wide grin. "Are you waiting for Coach, Mr. Thomas?" Xu Ling asked politely. "No, I'm waiting for you," Thomas said. "Just exchanging a few words with you might earn me a fifty-thousand-dollar fine from David Stern." Xu Ling thought to himself, *Is fifty grand supposed to sound steep? The settlement you paid for harassing an innocent woman was two hundred times that.* "In that case, please step aside. I'm not allowed to speak with you." "No, I have to say this." Thomas stood barely six feet tall, yet he seemed to puff up with the presence of a giant. "Get ready to become a New York Knick. I will do whatever it takes to get you!" It wasn't merely surprising; it was downright unsettling. Coming from a former player who used to plant kisses on his best friend's cheek before games, only to publicly smear him as gay after he contracted HIV, and who had recently been dragged into court over sexual harassment allegations... When a man like that says something like that to you, wouldn't you feel a chill down your spine? "Uh..." Xu Ling said awkwardly. "That's the first time a man has ever said something like that to me." "I'm dead serious, Eli! I will bring you to New York!" Thomas pointed at him like a prophet. "I know in my bones you're the one to drag my Knicks out of the gutter!" Xu Ling kept his attention strictly on basketball. Unless a franchise was tied to a city infamous for racism, he harbored no strong preference about where he landed in the NBA. Hearing Thomas speak with such intense passion, he didn't question the man's sincerity. But... "I wouldn't mind playing for the Knicks," Xu Ling said. Thomas beamed, but the smile froze the second Xu Ling delivered his next line. "Except it doesn't look like you guys have a draft pick." Thomas's emotions plunged straight down a roller coaster. Fighting down the churning bile and suppressing a sudden urge to go put a bullet in Eddy Curry, he stared at Xu Ling, his eyes burning with frantic certainty. "We will."