What a Beautiful Sight!

On March 16, 2007, the first day of the NCAA Tournament—better known as March Madness—officially got underway. As the top seed from the Big 12 Conference, Texas Tech University took the court today against the Niagara University Purple Eagles from New York. The Purple Eagles were rare guests in the NCAA Tournament; their school's athletic claim to fame was ice hockey, and in over a century of varsity basketball history, they had reached the tournament only twice before. Consequently, even if their run ended in the first round of March Madness, it would still be a historic milestone worthy of reclaiming past glory. Aiming for a national championship, Texas Tech naturally didn't view such an opponent as a major hurdle. The coaching staff had already mapped out the Purple Eagles' roster and made the appropriate tactical preparations well before tip-off. As the team's indispensable workhorse, the "TTU Jordan," Xu Ling, was unsurprisingly handed a critical assignment: match up against Niagara's leading scorer, shooting guard Charron Fisher. In the annals of Purple Eagles history, Fisher was the kind of premier player who appeared once in a decade or two. At the collegiate level, his scoring had virtually no blind spots; with an explosive first step and a lethal jump shot, he was capable of completely taking over an offense on his own. In terms of sheer talent, it was hard to say whether TTU's Jarrius Jackson was significantly better. After all, the leadership ceiling for both players was guiding an averagely talented squad into the NCAA Tournament. The opponent may have been modest, but the venue was nothing short of legendary. This was the United Center in Chicago. The hallowed ground where Michael Jordan became an immortal. Outside the arena, Xu Ling had gazed upon the famous "The best there ever was, the best there ever will be" statue of the Flying Man. Because it was the home of the Chicago Bulls, the Bulls' entire front office was present in full force. General Manager John Paxson sat in the most conspicuous seat in the front row. Since Xu Ling was the only player on the floor tonight with undisputed lottery-pick credentials, Paxson's scouting priority was self-evident. Ever since Jordan's second retirement in 1998, the Bulls had been trapped in an endless purgatory of rebuilding and tanking. Jerry Krause had sought to prove that the Bulls could win a championship without Jordan, but his monumental gamble on Eddy Curry and Tyson Chandler had fallen flat. Giving away Elton Brand in the process ultimately proved to be a disaster—seemingly the tragic fate of many general managers hailed for their shrewd intellect. When Jordan later faltered in Charlotte, even if he refused to admit it publicly, he knew in his heart that the Bulls dynasty would never have existed without Krause's maneuvers. Krause drafted Scottie Pippen, found Toni Kukoč, and bought low on Dennis Rodman when his value hit rock bottom. Those decisions laid the foundation of the dynasty and convinced Krause that he was the franchise's indispensable architect. Yet the moment he was stripped of the ultimate prerequisite for that success—Michael Jordan himself—he could never recapture that magic. Believe it or not, this was hardly an isolated case; one only had to look at how Joe Dumars built the Detroit Pistons into champions within a few years, only to steadily dismantle everything in the aftermath. The Bulls were still paying the price for Krause's failed rebuild. Paxson had long heard of the "TTU Jordan," and his scouts held Xu Ling in the highest regard, prompting him to see this breakout superstar with his own eyes. Right from the opening tip, TTU delivered a harsh wake-up call to their opponent. Jarrius Jackson knocked down a catch-and-shoot three; Martin Zeno scored on a fast break off a pinpoint outlet pass from Xu Ling after a defensive rebound; Then, the Purple Eagles' talisman secured the ball and faced Xu Ling—the marquee matchup everyone in the building had been waiting for. "You don't look like much to me for an NBA lottery pick!" Charron Fisher was just like many upperclassmen Xu Ling had encountered, barking bravado he didn't truly feel in an effort to rattle a freshman's nerves. Unfortunately for him, that trick was entirely useless against a seasoned veteran who had already lived a previous life. Fisher's dominance rested on a blend of physical maturity and technical polish, but his raw athletic gifts were limited—he lacked elite speed and explosive burst. Stepping up to a higher level of basketball would instantly transform him from a versatile collegiate scorer into a versatile bricklayer. Xu Ling was merely giving him an early taste of what it felt like to face NBA-caliber athleticism applying suffocating pressure. Fisher found it utterly impossible to carve out space for a clean look with his bag of tricks. He pounded the dribble for over ten seconds before finally heaving up a desperate step-back jumper. *Clang!* Xu Ling turned and secured the long rebound. Fisher scrambled back on defense. Yet the transition break he feared didn't unfold the way he anticipated—the outcome was far worse. Xu Ling brought the ball up himself and pulled up more than two meters behind the three-point line, deeper than the NBA arc. Before his teammates had even set up in the half-court, he went into his shooting motion. Fisher gasped, but Xu Ling's transition three had already sailed right over his head. "Eight to zero." The Purple Eagles immediately burned a timeout. Xu Ling cast a glance at Fisher. Without saying a word, he gave a casual shrug as if asking, *Is that all you've got?*, before strolling back to the bench. Bob Knight criticized Xu Ling's shot selection as usual: "Listen, I've had it up to here with your Chris Jackson shots! It's complete horseshit! But since it went in, I've got nothing to say!" "No, you literally just called my shot horseshit." Xu Ling gave Knight an unimpressed look. Knight pivoted toward the rest of the squad, returning to his lecture on the absolute importance of defense. Coming out of the timeout, the Purple Eagles finally cracked the scoreboard. However, snapping their scoring drought was merely treating a symptom; their fatal issue was that they couldn't stop a single player on TTU. Xu Ling posted up down low, backed in, and spun. Manipulated by the move, Fisher couldn't help taking an eager step forward. At that exact instant, a flash of inspiration hit Xu Ling. Frames from Michael Jordan game tapes took over his muscle memory. Almost by instinct, he stepped through into the lane, shielded Fisher off with his frame, and banked in a leaning layup. Off the glass and through the net! "What gorgeous post footwork!" Pat Knight said in astonishment. "When did Eli learn that?" Bob Knight didn't utter a word. Ever since learning that Xu Ling had played full-time center at his Hong Kong high school, only to arrive in the United States brandishing a complete, polished guard repertoire, nothing the kid did could surprise him anymore. Meanwhile, Paxson was constantly flipping through Xu Ling's stat sheets. When NBA scouts locked in on a prospect for deep tracking, they cataloged every nuance of his game. The most basic element was tracking every offensive move he executed in games and its conversion rate, using that data to assess technical proficiency. "Posting up wasn't part of Eli's regular arsenal. In the first half of the season, his points from the low block were zero. Then, he started experimenting with post moves in actual games..." The more Paxson read, the more baffled he became. Could someone who never posted up master the craft in just half a season? What was more, that post footwork just now was vintage MJ. From the footwork itself to the seamless chaining of moves, it possessed an indescribable fluidity. Right then, Xu Ling rejected Charron Fisher with a clean, emphatic block, sprinted after the loose ball as it flew across midcourt, and drove all the way to the rim, putting on a show for the Chicago crowd with a Jordan-esque double-clutch two-handed reverse slam. "Oh, my goodness! Look at Eli! Number one for TTU!" the United Center PA announcer shouted into the mic with sheer excitement. "He's like the second coming of Michael!" That slam instantly rekindled the crowd's fondest memories of the Jordan era. All at once, what was supposed to be a neutral site began feeling like a TTU home game. Whenever the ball touched Xu Ling's hands— "E-li...!" The arena erupted in rolling thunder, waves of cheers echoing from every corner. Yet throughout it all, the "TTU Jordan" didn't acknowledge the crowd once. He palmed the basketball in one hand, just like Jordan. He gave a hard jab step that threw Fisher off balance, then exploded to the left, blowing past him clean. Apart from not sticking his tongue out, every movement mirrored Chicago's legendary number 23. Driving into the paint, Xu Ling took flight from the left, glided through the air, circled the ball with one hand to avoid the contest, and scooped it up from the opposite side of the rim. The more games he played, the more confident Xu Ling became in his physical gifts. Every move he could execute in his previous life but never dared try in a game, every technique that had lacked lethality due to his physical ceiling back then, could now be showcased on the court without hesitation. He landed and glanced back just in time to see the ball spin tightly and drop cleanly through the twine. Xu Ling extended his hand, slapping five with an ecstatic Darryl Dora. "Man, give the crowd some love!" Dora shouted excitedly. "This is a fucking neutral arena! You've completely conquered a neutral crowd, and you're still acting cool?!" Not even a trace of a smile appeared on Xu Ling's face. Normally warm and affable off the court, it was as if an entirely different persona took over during games, utterly indifferent to everything beyond the lines. "Really? Why do I just find them noisy?" "Keep fronting! I know you're loving every second of this!" With most of the first half elapsed, Texas Tech had already opened up a 24-point lead. It was clear they weren't just cruising to a win; they were staging an absolute rout. The Bulls' executives and scouts from across the league sat in the stands, thoroughly mesmerized. Without Xu Ling, TTU was merely a solid tournament squad, and a matchup against Niagara would likely have been an evenly matched contest. Yet with Xu Ling on the floor, they could slaughter opponents at will and look every bit like legitimate national championship contenders. "Didn't Isiah call a few days ago saying he wanted to trade back for the Knicks' pick?" John Paxson turned toward his assistant. The assistant nodded. "He said he's willing to part with anyone on their roster, plus two or more future unprotected first-round picks in return!" "Tell him," Paxson said flatly, "the Knicks' 2007 first-round pick is completely off the table. Tell him to forget about it!" Paxson turned his eyes back to the court. Xu Ling had just been subbed out for a rest. The "TTU Jordan" sat quietly on the bench, looking perfectly serene. In Paxson's mind, a breathtaking picture had already taken shape: drafting Xu Ling with the Knicks' 2007 first-round pick, watching him put on that Chicago Bulls uniform next season... That iconic shade of red suited him too well. Eli was simply destined to fight for the blood on the bull's horns! What a beautiful sight to behold!