As Always

"The Duke players are clearly unhappy about Eli's unprovoked slight against their head coach!" "Yes, they definitely feel Eli crossed the line!" "Still, that's just Eli. He's widely regarded as a master of trash talk and psychological warfare!" Mike Krzyzewski stood in front of the Duke bench with his arms crossed. Tonight, he had rolled out his favorite lineup: three guards paired with a mobile frontcourt. The backcourt tandem of Greg Paulus and Jon Scheyer had already shredded countless opposing defenses this season. Add the extraordinarily athletic DeMarcus Nelson, and while Duke lacked a full-sized small forward, that was hardly unusual in college basketball. Their opponents, TTU, didn't have a conventional small forward either, rotating Xu Ling and Martin Zeno through the position. What truly mattered was whether the players filling the gap had enough talent. Duke had talent in spades. That was the source of Coach K's confidence, but Xu Ling's opening provocation still lingered in everyone's minds. The Blue Devils' top star stepped up. Josh McRoberts caught the ball at the high post. Compared to him, Darryl Dora looked like an interior player straight out of the 1960s. McRoberts threw a head fake, drove all the way to the rim, and laid it in. Afterward, McRoberts considered firing back at Knight the way Xu Ling had, but the chilling intensity rolling off Knight's glare intimidated him. He turned to Xu Ling instead. "That's Coach K's return gift!" "Darryl! How much longer do I have to worry about your goddamn defense?!" Knight's roar echoed from the sideline. Dora put on a helpless look. He genuinely had no answer for an all-around big man like McRoberts. If you respected his jumper too much, he blew right past you off the dribble. But if you lowered your center of gravity and gave him space to contain the drive, he rose up and shot right over your head. "Don't worry about it. He was the nation's number one high schooler in 2005, after all," Xu Ling said. "Getting your ass kicked by him is completely normal." Dora gave a bitter laugh. "Thanks for the comfort, rookie. Now I feel worse." "Stay patient, box out, and wait for my pass!" Xu Ling said calmly. Duke naturally hadn't come into this game unprepared. Their three perimeter guards were all plenty athletic, and Coach K had devised a meticulous game plan to contain Xu Ling prior to tip-off. The moment Xu Ling caught the ball on the perimeter, Nelson, who was guarding Zeno, immediately rushed over to double-team him. If Texas Tech called for a pick-and-roll, Duke switched aggressively. Furthermore, the trapping defender used his wingspan to ensure Xu Ling couldn't find an open teammate with a direct pass. Even if the double-team failed to fully disrupt him, the other three defenders actively cut off passing lanes. In short, Duke refused to let Xu Ling create open perimeter looks directly out of the trap. And if Texas Tech used an intermediate teammate to swing the ball, Duke's athleticism allowed them to rotate and recover in time. This was the brand of basketball beloved by traditional college coaches—the kind that in the NBA might be criticized as over-coaching. The players on the floor were chess pieces, and almost everything that happened was tightly managed by the coaching staff. It was the first time Xu Ling had experienced a customized defensive package in the NCAA. When a tailored scheme worked, it could completely shut down a player's ability to initiate offense from his preferred spots. Duke's stifling package effectively barred him from catching the ball and going to work from his sweet spots on the perimeter. Knight, however, had countermoves of his own. Talented though Duke was, they hadn't put together an impressive regular season, finishing just 8–8 in the ACC. In smaller conferences, a record like that wouldn't have earned an at-large bid to March Madness. The reason for Duke's struggles was simple: an abundance of raw talent, but a lack of an on-court floor general and offensive consistency. Josh McRoberts was undoubtedly an outstanding college player, but he lacked leadership. The player who truly led Duke was Greg Paulus, yet Paulus didn't possess McRoberts's caliber of skill. The rest of the starters had solid athletic gifts, but they were either raw or severely one-dimensional. Knight struck at Duke's Achilles' heel, setting up a 2-3 zone defense. Xu Ling checked Duke's leading perimeter scorer, Paulus; Zeno hounded their most reliable outside shooter, Jon Scheyer; and the paint was locked down tight, daring Duke to attack. Through the first ten minutes of the half, both head coaches made their presence overwhelmingly felt. The moment an assignment blew up, the coach singled out the offending player and tore into him. It was perhaps only in moments like this that people remembered Coach K was, after all, Knight's disciple. Eleven minutes into the half, McRoberts flared out off a screen, slipping past Jarrius Jackson, who had botched the switch. McRoberts caught the pass and rose up without hesitation, draining a three-pointer. Swish! 12–9. Duke led by three. Knight called a timeout immediately. "J.J., you told me you wanted to play in the NBA?" Knight bellowed, red-faced with fury. "With this many NBA general managers in the building tonight, who the hell do you think is going to give you a shot? You've contributed fuck all so far! Absolutely nothing! You're an embarrassment to that captain title!" He barked, "Get off the floor! I've had it up to here with you!" Knight then whipped around toward sophomore guard Alan Voskuil. "Get in there for J.J.! Martin Zeno, from now on you're on Greg Paulus!" He glared daggers at Xu Ling. "Do you remember what I told you before tip-off?" "Kill them?" "And what the hell did you do?" "I threw down a pretty dunk." "And then you didn't do jack shit!" Knight roared. "You trying to tell me you can't score because you're getting doubled? Fine, then you run the point! Unless the damn Blue Devils start trapping you in the backcourt, I don't want to hear another word of your bullshit excuses!" The timeout ended, and the referee signaled for both teams to return to the court. Before stepping out, Xu Ling paused and looked Knight dead in the eye. "Aside from the opening bucket, I've completely locked down Greg Paulus." "What do you want me to do?" Knight fumed, trembling with rage. "Give you a fucking kiss?" "No, just reminding you again," Xu Ling replied, turning toward the floor. "Don't take someone else's screw-ups out on me." Knight practically blew a gasket, ready to unload, but Xu Ling had already walked away. Turning back, Knight caught sight of the benched Jackson and pointed a finger at his hapless captain. "You see that, J.J.? What a pathetic captain you are—our rookie won't even take the heat for you!" Xu Ling's relationship with Knight was fraught with turbulence like this. Knight was always eager to chew Xu Ling out as a warning to everyone else, while Xu Ling stubbornly refused to shoulder blame that wasn't his. Their season had been spent amid constant spats. Knight frequently barked that he couldn't stand this goddamn rookie for another second, while Xu Ling never voiced outward resentment, choosing instead to raise Knight's tolerance threshold over and over through consistently stellar play. Xu Ling dribbled the ball up from the backcourt and settled at the top of the key. Duke had no countermeasure prepared for Xu Ling running point. DeMarcus Nelson squared up, leaving no obvious driving lane. And yet... Xu Ling suddenly shifted his body into a step-back, creating a full meter of separation out of thin air. Rising straight up, he ignored every reaching hand and fired a pull-up three. "What the fuck are—" Knight's roar cut off mid-breath the moment the basketball ripped through the net. "Good! Lock him down! Kill them..." Texas Tech took the lead. Watching this, Mike Krzyzewski felt his scalp tingle. He could hardly believe Coach Knight had called a timeout solely to let Xu Ling walk the ball up to the top of the key and hoist a contested three. That was something Knight would never have tolerated. Yet on the retreat, Krzyzewski watched Xu Ling high-five Knight and exchange a few quick words. Was that man really Coach Knight? If Coach K had overheard their exchange, the illusion would have vanished instantly. "You pull a circus shot like that again, and I'll bench your ass!" "I made it, Coach." Back on defense, Xu Ling switched over to Duke's sharpshooter, Jon Scheyer. Zeno hadn't had much luck containing him, so Knight handed the assignment to Xu Ling. If a shooter like Scheyer caught fire, stopping their offense would become a nightmare. At the same time, Scheyer was a pure catch-and-shoot threat who possessed virtually no shot-creation off the dribble. In truth, the assignment liberated Xu Ling. He could keep tabs on Scheyer while reading the entire floor and making real-time reads. Every Duke possession initiated through either Paulus or McRoberts. It was an unmistakable pattern. Scheyer cut hard along the perimeter, attempting to drag Xu Ling away from the heart of the action. Xu Ling tailed him, but the second Duke's play developed, he peeled off his man like a ghost. Right behind McRoberts, a thieving hand darted in—slap! The basketball hit the hardwood. McRoberts's eyes went wide as he looked around, entirely unaware of when Xu Ling had crept behind him. "Fast break!" yelled Martin Zeno as he scooped up the loose ball. Having forced the turnover, Xu Ling took off at full tilt, pointing toward the rim. Wait, from that far? Zeno's heart hitched, but Xu Ling's finger remained firmly aimed at the basket. Zeno couldn't begin to fathom the wrath Knight would rain down if he botched this pass, but Xu Ling kept pointing, dead set on making a statement. Steeling his nerves, Zeno launched the ball forward with both hands. It wasn't a perfect pass, but the timing was immaculate. Xu Ling crossed into the paint just as the ball arrived, planting his feet and launching off the floor as if coiled springs were strapped to his sneakers. "Eli!" screamed the play-by-play announcer, howling the airborne player's name. Xu Ling snatched the ball out of the air with one hand and slammed it through the iron with everything he had. BOOM! Hearing Knight's voice cursing up a storm from the sideline, Xu Ling knew the old man was fuming again. Jogging past the Duke bench, he noticed Mike Krzyzewski staring at him. He spoke up on impulse: "Coach K, how long did your 'friendship' with Coach Knight last?" The question was brazenly insolent, yet it struck right at the nerve. The mentor-disciple bond had once been celebrated as a classic tale, but Xu Ling casually reduced it to a mere "friendship," complete with an expiration date, dripping with playful irony. Krzyzewski froze for a second, then answered, "Twenty full years." "Must have been rough." Leaving the words hanging in the air, Xu Ling ran off without looking back. Xu Ling found it hard to believe Coach K had put up with Knight for two whole decades. He had only been under Knight for a few months, and he already felt close to his limit. Even so, he had quickly realized that once you saw through Knight's habitual bluster, the man was easy enough to manage. By now, Xu Ling had developed a unilateral immunity to Knight's antics. Antics aside, Knight was still a great coach. Yet Xu Ling couldn't help wondering: even if his motives were pure and his results undeniable, did the goodness of that core truly justify the methods he used? He jogged back toward the defensive end, passing Knight once more. What did the coach have to say this time? "If your hand feels hot, keep attacking!" Knight said in a low, gravelly voice. "Just don't get reckless. Don't you forget this is a five-man game!" That was right. It was always like this.