The Final Two

"If we keep settling for outside shots, their defense in the second half will be dialed right into us!" Bob Knight barked. "We have to attack Oden! Make him run until he drops!" The intention was solid, but Knight had somewhat overestimated his team's rim pressure—and drastically underestimated Oden's interior defense. Every center hailed as the second coming of Bill Russell might possess flaws in offensive polish, but their sheer deterrence on defense was beyond dispute. On TTU's first possession of the second half, Xu Ling tore right through Ohio State's perimeter defense. Stringing together between-the-legs crossovers, he blew past Ron Lewis, pulled up at the free-throw line, and sank a stop-and-pop jumper to stretch the lead to eight. Before the roar inside the Georgia Dome could subside, however, Oden bared his fangs on the low block. Bulldozing his way into the paint like a runaway freight train, Oden rose straight through Darryl Dora's textbook defense. As the seven-footer's entire forearm cleared the rim, Dora was struck by a cold wave of despair: against absolute, freakish talent, perfect fundamentals meant nothing. *Boom!* The stanchion shuddered violently under the force of the slam, drawing a collective gasp from the arena. That Shaquille O'Neal–style brute finish instantly sounded the bugle for an Ohio State rally. In the blink of an eye, the momentum flipped. Xu Ling attacked the basket on the next trip, but Oden's sky-blocking wingspan completely choked off his shooting angles. The layup clipped off the rim. "Transition!" Dan Shulman roared from the broadcast booth. "Oden turns the game on its head with his defense!" The nightmare only deepened. Martin Zeno tried to split the defense with pure foot speed, only for Oden to stalk him stride for stride all the way to the rim. An even more chilling sequence unfolded two minutes later. Jarrius Jackson rose for a mid-range jumper from the right wing at a forty-five-degree angle. Oden, who had been anchoring the paint, lunged out like a ghost, swatting the shot out of midair with an enormous paw! "His third block!" Shulman's voice shook. "Greg Oden's defensive presence covers every single square inch inside the arc!" "What are we really talking about when we talk about a modern Bill Russell?" Billy Packer marvelled. "Oden is giving us the answer! He even anticipated the passing lanes before coming up with the block. That is truly terrifying defensive basketball IQ! When OSU was getting smothered by TTU's outside firepower, and when Eli was putting on a Pete Maravich magic show, Oden gave us all a masterclass in the simplest truth of the game: defense wins championships!" A truly great defender breathes confidence into his perimeter scorers, because they know that even if they miss, someone will clean up the mess on the other end. Ron Lewis, who had been completely dismantled on both ends by Xu Ling in the first half, finally fired his first shot from beyond the arc tonight. *Swish!* It dropped! It wasn't merely Lewis's first field goal in eight attempts—it officially capped Ohio State's comeback. 55–54. OSU had taken the lead. At that moment, Bob Knight knew his players were unraveling, so he signaled for a timeout. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, a particular game flashed through Knight's mind: Game 6 of the 2002 Western Conference Finals. It was one of the darkest games in his memory, where the officiating crew single-handedly kept the crumbling Lakers dynasty afloat. Of course, that wasn't the point. The point was—why had the Lakers looked so utterly dismantled up to that stage? Because Mike Bibby had dragged Shaquille O'Neal into the pick-and-roll and subjected him to a merciless execution. Could that same strategy work against Oden? He wasn't Shaq. He had the foot speed to contest out to the perimeter. On top of that, Xu Ling's recent attempt to take it straight at him had just been denied... Yet without finding a fundamental answer to Oden, there was no turning the tide. Everything OSU had accomplished stemmed directly from Oden's rim protection. Knight stared blankly at his clipboard, his marker tracing unconscious circles around Oden's name. "Coach." Xu Ling's voice cut through his reverie. The Chinese kid was wiping sweat with his jersey, but his eyes were extraordinarily sharp, utterly unfazed by Oden's defensive terror. "Let me handle Oden." Knight countered, "Didn't he just swat your drive?" "Because Darryl Dora isn't a shooting threat," Xu Ling said bluntly. "Oden can sag off him and protect the rim with zero hesitation. We need to sub Jon in." Knight rubbed the gray stubble along his jaw. "And what happens to our interior defense and rebounding?" "Coach," Xu Ling said with unshakeable conviction, "we didn't claw our way to the Final Four on defense and rebounding." The words hit Knight like a sledgehammer. Memories of their gritty, unconventional journey throughout the season rushed back to him. "Interesting..." Knight suddenly tossed the clipboard onto a folding chair. "Jon! Get ready to check in!" Leaning in close to Xu Ling, Knight lowered his voice: "Kid, you'd better know exactly what you're doing." Xu Ling answered evenly, "I know how to win games, Coach. I always have." When the horn sounded to signal the end of the timeout, Jon Plefka walked toward the scorer's table, prompting an immediate stir in the broadcast booth. "A very risky adjustment... Wait, is TTU rolling out a five-out lineup?" Across the floor, Oden furrowed his brow, clearly not anticipating the look. Xu Ling stood at the top of the key, lightly rolling his wrists, his eyes already locked on the seven-footer. *Laughable!* OSU head coach Thad Matta viewed the substitution with open contempt. Oden could tear Plefka apart at will. TTU had briefly flashed a five-out lineup against North Carolina in the Elite Eight to great effect, but the situation now was completely different. TTU had just surrendered the lead. Oden was utterly dominating the paint, possessed more than enough lateral quickness to switch onto perimeter guards, and had the hunger to do so. No matter how one looked at it, this was a massive gamble. Texas Tech was completely abandoning its interior defense and rebounding. Then came the inbound pass. Xu Ling brought the ball across midcourt. Ron Lewis picked him up immediately, arms outstretched like a wary hound. *Just keep him off the three-point line...* Lewis rehearsed the scouting report in his head. This time, however, the script changed. Xu Ling raised a hand to signal, and the newly inserted Jon Plefka sprinted up to set a high screen. Oden had no choice but to follow. The seven-footer possessed agility wildly disproportionate to his frame; his lateral slide was quick enough to shame many guards. In twenty-first-century college basketball, perhaps only Anthony Davis would ever demonstrate a more terrifying defensive radius. "Here it comes! Eli versus Greg Oden!" Dan Shulman shouted. Xu Ling felt a long-lost spark of adrenaline. In his previous life, his physical talent had been ordinary, but he had honed the art of mismatch hunting against big men to absolute perfection. Since his transmigration, he had rarely needed to pull out this skill, simply because so few opponents were worth calling out by name. Right now, standing in front of him was Greg Oden—the most formidable defensive barrier in all of college basketball. *Can he hold up?* The fleeting thought vanished in an instant. In the next beat, Xu Ling exploded into a drive! Oden dropped back on pure reflex, but Xu Ling snapped into an instant stop and yanked the ball back between his legs, the leather slamming against the hardwood with a crisp snap. Caught off-balance, the seven-footer's center of gravity shifted for a split second... Xu Ling was already airborne. Oden lunged desperately with all his might, but it was too late. The ball arced through the air in a flawless rainbow under the gaze of seventy thousand pairs of eyes. *Swish!* The rippling snap of the net was music to the ears. "The Red Raiders retake the lead!" Shulman belted out. "Eli hunts the mismatch on the perimeter and drills the jumper right over Oden!" Along the sideline, Knight pumped his fist violently. The man notoriously branded as a "basketball fundamentalist" was cheering for an unconventional, rule-breaking gamble. For a Texas Tech squad with the lowest athletic pedigree among the Final Four teams, traditional dogma had long since been cast aside. When Xu Ling had first suggested pulling Oden out to isolate against him, Knight's initial instinct had been that it was absurd—until he remembered the simplest truth of the game: against an offensive genius, even the most immaculate defense would eventually crack. "You see that? That's the curse of Bill Russell!" Knight muttered to his assistants, his gaze fixed squarely on the Chinese phenom on the floor. "In an era where defense reigned supreme, Russell could dictate a game purely with his shot-blocking. But in this era..." He pointed toward the three-point line. "Offense is king." Roughly twenty seconds later, Ohio State missed from the perimeter. Oden leaped like an apex predator, ripping down the offensive rebound through traffic and kicking it out. Following another clang off the rim, the seven-footer elevated once more, this time throwing down a vicious putback slam directly over Jon Plefka's head. Overflowing raw talent poured across the paint. Regarded as the consensus top high school prospect in the nation since his sophomore year in 2005, with the NBA's No. 1 overall pick practically waiting for him, Oden refused to yield to Xu Ling here. Xu Ling's counter, however, arrived even faster. He called for another Plefka screen, and Oden switched out without hesitation. This time, he played it smart, giving Xu Ling half a step of cushion—positioned to contest the drive while staying ready for the pull-up. In Xu Ling's eyes, a single step of space was an open invitation to shoot. Giving him half a step? Whatever your defensive logic was, take it up with the ball in the air! Before Oden could even set his feet, Xu Ling had already launched. His release was lightning-fast, tracing an arc so pure it sucked the breath from the arena. Oden extended his tree-branch arms in vain, unable to lay even a finger on the shot. *Swish!* The leather snapped through the cords, the netting flipping up gracefully as if touched by magic. The contest entered a white-hot phase as the two superstar freshmen exerted their dominance in contrasting styles. Oden wreaked havoc inside, his thick arms reeling in rebounds like twin cranes. His low-post power moves made Texas Tech's interior presence look non-existent. "Twenty-eight points! Greg Oden scores once again on his trademark hook!" Shulman shouted into his headset. "Greg is shooting nearly seventy percent from the floor tonight!" Yet every time Ohio State made a push to take control, Xu Ling answered with lethal precision from deep. Operating like a patient sniper, he continually used Plefka's picks to hunt the mismatch. As nimble as Oden's feet were, he still looked helpless when confronted with Xu Ling's elusive direction changes and quickfire release. "Eli hits his sixth three-pointer of the night!" "The phenomenal No. 1 is up to thirty-five points!" With two minutes remaining on the game clock, the scoreboard read 79–77, Texas Tech holding a precarious two-point edge. Ohio State inbounded from the baseline, and Mike Conley brought the ball steadily past half court. Everyone in the building knew this possession was headed straight into Oden's hands. "D up! Don't let him catch it clean!" Knight screamed at the top of his lungs from the sideline. Plefka leaned in with every ounce of leverage he possessed, but the monstrous center posted up like a moving brick wall. Conley delivered a pinpoint entry pass into Oden's chest. Oden went to work with his back to the basket, executing a smooth spin move to carve out space. Just as he gathered to elevate— Xu Ling flashed in from the weak side, stripping the ball clean with a surgical swipe! Texas Tech surged down the floor like a crimson wave. Xu Ling threaded a no-look bounce pass to a trailing Jackson, who laid it off the glass for an easy bucket! 81–77! The lead grew to four! "Jon!" Knight bellowed. "If Oden touches the ball again, wrap him up immediately!" Plefka nodded without a second thought. He understood his job was done: he had spaced the floor and dragged Oden away from the rim. Now, it was time to cash in his final foul to send the beast to the charity stripe. Conley pushed the pace as seconds ticked away. He probed with a crossover, but TTU's perimeter shell held firm. With ten seconds left on the shot clock, he finally lobbed the entry pass to Oden on the low block. The instant Oden gathered the ball, he checked over his shoulder warily. Xu Ling's previous dig still lingered in his mind. Seeing no double-team coming, Oden threw his weight into a backdown, his broad shoulders driving Plefka back a step. Just as Oden loaded his legs to rise— *Smack!* Plefka brought both arms down across Oden's forearms. The whistle blew instantly. "Fouled out!" The referee signaled Plefka's disqualification. The unsung hero breathed heavily as he headed to the bench, sharing a hard high-five with Darryl Dora, who checked back in. A wave of applause rippled through the stands before falling into a tense hush. Oden stepped to the line. Earlier in the season, Oden had missed seven games with a right wrist injury. After returning, he had played predominantly with his left hand, even shooting free throws southpaw. Even so, he had maintained a sixty percent clip. Scouts took it as undeniable proof of his sublime touch: "The guy is better with his off-hand than most centers are with their dominant one." Yet once he regained the use of his right hand, the numbers didn't take an enormous leap; a bump to seventy percent was an improvement, but hardly automatic. Now, standing alone at the line, he took a deep breath as the crowd held its collective breath. First shot... The ball caught the back iron, popped high into the air, and rattled down through the net. 81–78. Second shot... Pushed with a fraction too much juice, the ball clattered hard off the back rim and caromed out! Dora boxed out with everything he had, securing the crucial defensive board! "Great board, D.D.!" Dora nodded and immediately kicked the outlet to Xu Ling. The game clock drained rapidly. Jackson and Zeno spaced out to the wings, letting Xu Ling orchestrate the tempo. As the game entered its final minute, Xu Ling raised his right hand—flashing what had become the most despised signal for Ohio State: another pick-and-roll involving the center. Only this time, the floor-spacing big man was gone. What could TTU possibly do? Panting heavily, Oden shuffled out beyond the three-point arc, sweat dripping from his chin. The seven-footer gritted his teeth. *Just survive one more minute...* Xu Ling's eyes, however, said it all. In this moment, he was about to lay bare the fundamental divide between them. The basketball world of 2007 remained utterly intoxicated by the dogma of defense. Don Nelson's run-and-gun Mavericks were on the verge of suffering the humiliation of the "We Believe" upset, while Steve Nash's Suns were still chasing that elusive ring. Meanwhile, Tim Duncan's Spurs and Ben Wallace's Pistons—two teams built on suffocating, grind-it-out defense—ruled the NBA. People still repeated the old mantra: "Control the paint, control the game." Yet the seeds of revolution had already been sown. When the Warriors hoisted the championship trophy in 2015, the official rulebook was virtually unchanged from 2007. What shifted was not the rules, but the collective imagination. The overlooked truth: against absolute offense, even the most flawless defense was ultimately futile. Right now, Xu Ling held the key to the new era. Oden cautiously maintained a full step of space, spreading his arms like a mobile wall. Suddenly, Xu Ling exploded—not forward, but into a deep step-back that carried him two strides beyond the three-point line! "Is he crazy?" a reporter courtside gasped. Oden's pupils contracted. He lunged out with everything he had, but it was already too late. The moment the ball left his fingertips, Xu Ling knew it was pure. The trajectory was as immaculate as an artist's brushstroke, hanging in the air under thousands of wide eyes. *Swish!* 84–78! The lead was six! "Good heavens, Eli! In that moment, right in Oden's face, how could he..." Xu Ling backpedaled down the floor, held up his right index finger, and gently blew on it toward Oden. With time running out, Ohio State had to push for a quick score. Mike Conley pounded the rock rapidly on the perimeter, shaking free just enough daylight off a series of crossovers. The point guard, who had spent the entire evening feeding Oden inside, had no choice but to shoulder the scoring burden himself. However— *Clang!* The ball clattered off the back of the rim. Even so, Ohio State's hopes didn't flicker out immediately, because their giant remained stationed beneath the cup. The cruelty of elite athletic talent was on full display. Even though Darryl Dora had established superior inside positioning, Oden uncorked terrifying power through the contact, elevating over Dora's back to snatch the offensive board. Dora had him completely boxed out, yet Oden used sheer, unadulterated explosiveness to rip the ball away from above his head. The Ohio State faithful erupted in screams, anticipating another destructive slam to keep their season alive. But— As Oden landed, he instinctively tucked the ball toward his midsection. A bad habit ingrained since his high school days had turned into a fatal flaw in the clutch. Despite having been picked twice by Xu Ling earlier, muscle memory overrode his vigilance in the heat of the moment. When Xu Ling's figure materialized like a ghost, Oden's heart plummeted. *Thwack!* "Eli!" Dan Shulman roared in disbelief. "He strips the ball away from Greg Oden once again!" Thirty-nine seconds left, down six, turning the ball over on the most critical possession—what else was left to do? Oden sprinted back like a vengeful spirit. His recovery speed was absurd! How could a seven-footer move that fast? In the blink of an eye, he was right on Xu Ling's heels. Both players entered the paint and leaped almost in unison. At the apex, Xu Ling flicked his wrist, tossing the ball softly over his shoulder. A trailing Darryl Dora roared as he took flight like a wounded beast. The big man, who had been brutalized by Oden all night, had fire burning in his eyes. The athletic disparity between the two felt almost poetic: if Oden's raw talent rated a 100, Dora was a 70 at best. Yet right now, completely out of position, Oden was reduced to a helpless poster backdrop, watching the "lesser" player deliver the final judgment. *Boom-m-m-m-m-m-m!* The concussive force of Dora's two-handed dunk reverberated through the arena. His knees clipped Oden's off-balance body as he came down. That slam not only shattered Ohio State's national championship dreams, but brought a definitive, crushing end to Oden's evening of dominance. Less than half a minute remained. The margin was eight. The outcome was settled, but Ohio State burned its final timeout anyway. Moments later, the horn sounded, and Ohio State's players trudged back onto the floor with hollow expressions. The air inside the Georgia Dome felt frozen. Texas Tech fans were already on their feet, bracing for the euphoric celebration, while the Buckeye faithful sat in stunned silence, praying for a miracle. Miracles, however, were not bound for Columbus tonight. Mike Conley received the inbound pass and sprinted downcourt with every ounce of stamina he had left. Time was their fiercest enemy. He didn't even attempt to run a set; crossing midcourt against Jackson's suffocating pressure, he hoisted a prayer off a desperate step-back. Every pair of eyes followed the basketball as it tumbled through the air. *Clang!* The ball struck the front of the rim and bounced away helplessly. Beneath the hoop, Darryl Dora summoned his last drop of energy to wall off a shell-shocked Oden. Elevating into the air, Dora cradled the championship-clinching rebound against his chest like an embrace with a long-lost lover. "Mine!" he bellowed, pitching the ball to Xu Ling, who was jogging over to secure it. Four seconds remained. Ohio State's players conceded, making no effort to foul. Conley stood with his hands on his hips, heaving for breath, while Oden slowly straightened up, his eyes glazed as he stared at the No. 1 jersey holding the ball—and his fate. Xu Ling made no attempt to score. Standing on the perimeter with the ball cradled in one arm, he let the final seconds bleed away. *Beeeeep!* The final buzzer blared through the dome! A sea of red instantly engulfed the Georgia Dome! Texas Tech's bench poured onto the court in pure delirium, swarming Xu Ling and Dora in a mob of crimson jerseys. Coach Bob Knight tossed his trusty clipboard aside in a rare display of raw emotion, pumping his fists and pulling his assistants into an ironclad embrace. "Yes, you are seeing this correctly! The Texas Tech Red Raiders have taken down the South Regional champion Ohio State Buckeyes 86 to 78, punching their ticket to the National Championship Game as one of the final two teams standing in the 2006–07 NCAA season!" *** Press Coverage ESPN: *Katz's Corner: Eli Xu's March Madness—Ending the Oden Era with Guts and Threes* By Andy Katz Published: April 1, 2007 ATLANTA, Georgia Dome—The moment the final horn sounded, I would wager that the entire Ohio State bench was gripped by sheer, dumbfounded disbelief. They were beaten, and in a manner they had never envisioned. Texas Tech, widely dismissed as the underdog of the Final Four, sent the generational talent of Greg Oden and his Ohio State Buckeyes home with an 86–78 defeat. And at the heart of it all was a freshman out of China: Eli Xu. Associated Press: *Xu Ling Dominates with Precision Shooting and Clutch Steals as Texas Tech Topples Oden to Reach Final* By Saul Thorne Published: April 1, 2007 In a direct clash between next-generation phenoms, Xu Ling seized control of the game through pinpoint perimeter shooting and clutch steals, propelling Texas Tech past Greg Oden in an 86–78 victory to secure a spot in the National Championship Game. Sina Sports Headlines: *Chinese Prodigy Xu Ling Erupts for 38 to Topple Oden the Great! Texas Tech Pulls Off Historic Upset Over Ohio State to Clinch First-Ever NCAA Title Game Berth* By Zhang Bo Published: April 1, 2007 As the final score settled at 86–78, seventy thousand fans inside the Georgia Dome bore witness to the most electrifying David-versus-Goliath upset in NCAA history. Chinese freshman Xu Ling buried six three-pointers and notched four critical steals, shattering the championship aspirations of the nation's premier big man, Greg Oden, and guiding the Red Raiders to their first NCAA championship game in program history! *** Top Fan Comments @CelestialIQKing: Xu Ling is the undisputed No. 1 overall pick this year! Who cares about Oden? King Xu turned him into Swiss cheese with a barrage of threes! You see that? That's pure basketball IQ dominance! Raw athleticism is nothing but a paper tiger in front of King Xu! Florida next? Xu Ling drops 50 on Noah and Horford combined, book it! Next year, King Xu heads to the Lakers to take over from Kobe! Yao Ming can pack his bags and sell insurance full-time! With King Xu on the national team, an Olympic silver is guaranteed! Tremble, USA Dream Team! @LuoyangBlooms: Xu Ling's playstyle is the blueprint for modern basketball! Pace, shooting, ice in his veins—a hundred times better than a certain lumbering big man! I'm begging you, Xu Ling, stay far away from the national team! That plodding half-court offense of Yao's will just turn you into Liu Wei 2.0. We've seen this movie before! Share the floor with him? Get ready for his fan club to roast you for "not feeding the post!" Save your career, stay away from the Yao-centric offense! @RationalFan886: Xu Ling had an incredible night, but let's not get carried away. Oden putting up 28 and 22 was monstrous in its own right. TTU won thanks to an unorthodox adjustment, combined with Oden's missed free throws and underwhelming help from his teammates. When Xu Ling gets to the NBA, the first thing he needs to do is pack on muscle. His frame might not even match Chen Jianghua's right now, and his ceiling is probably Manu Ginóbili. As for the national team, Yao and Xu Ling could complement each other in theory, but Coach Jonas Kazlauskas only runs inside-out schemes, which won't leave him much room to operate. @Wang仔CowboyIsMyFave: Xu Ling is the pride of China! What's with all the haters trying to downplay his brilliance? Still on your knees worshiping foreigners, huh? What makes Oden so special anyway? Just an overhyped American bust! Xu Ling dismantling him brought glory to all of China! Comparing him to Liu Wei or Chen Jianghua? They don't even belong in the same sentence as King Xu! Can't stand seeing our country produce an elite guard? You're all just foreign bootlickers! Say one more bad word about Xu Ling and you're a traitor! Just wait—next year Xu Ling enters the NBA, wins MVP, and raises the nation's prestige!