The muscles in Knight's face suddenly froze, like Michael Corleone in *The Godfather*—the exact moment his expression hardened upon learning his wife had chosen an abortion rather than suffered a miscarriage. The corners of his mouth twitched twice in a nervous tic, all his fury instantly compressed into an icy stillness. A slight jerk pulled at his lips, as if he wanted to laugh, or as if something far more dangerous were fighting to break loose.
Then, slowly and with eerie calm, he said, "Get out."
"Right now. Get the hell out of my gym!"
Xu Ling remained where he stood, unmoving, but assistant coach Pat Knight rushed over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and muttered, "Let's go. Don't make this worse."
"Am I the one who made it this way?" Xu Ling asked aloud, as if afraid Bob Knight might not hear him.
Then Pat Knight hauled him away.
They didn't stop until they were outside the arena.
"Am I kicked off the team?" Xu Ling asked. "What happens now?"
Pat exhaled with lingering dread. "No, you're not kicked off. Coach just told you to leave. He didn't mean you're off the team."
"So I can still play in the conference tournament?" Xu Ling wanted to be certain.
"That's right."
"What about Alan?" Xu Ling pressed. "Was he kicked off?"
"Listen, Eli," Pat said, lowering his voice. "Over the past forty years, more people have been thrown out of the gym by my father than you could ever count. Almost every player who's ever played for him has been through this—kicked out today for playing poorly, then back tomorrow like nothing happened. The old Indiana players came up with an iron rule: when Coach blows his top at you, you let it go in one ear and out the other. When a man gets that angry, he often can't even control the things he says or does."
Xu Ling stared at Pat's face. The man was completely serious.
During this period, Xu Ling had spent plenty of time looking into Bob Knight. From what he knew, Pat was his father's proudest son, having played for him in the nineties. His most infamous moment from those playing days was being caught on camera getting kicked on the bench by his own father.
As a son, Pat had endured everything Knight's players were subjected to.
Yet Xu Ling still couldn't swallow such an excuse.
What did he mean, *can't even control himself*? If a man who had coached for more than forty years lacked basic self-control, then he really belonged in retirement.
A tyrannical lunatic like him should have been swept onto the ash heap of history along with his outdated era long ago, shouldn't he?
The next day, Xu Ling showed up for practice as usual.
Alan Voskuil was there too.
Bob Knight seemed to have forgotten entirely about yesterday. Before practice began, he announced that today's schedule was only a light warm-up, as the team would be heading to their home court that afternoon to host Sam Houston State University from the Southland Conference.
Although it was not a Big 12 matchup, it still counted toward their official record. In other words, every stat and the final outcome would go into the players' records and onto the coaches' resumes.
Knight then announced that night's twelve-man roster.
Xu Ling's name was on it.
"Tonight's opponent isn't strong," Knight said, running through several points. "We're on our home floor. You could say this is a buyout game. I don't just want a win—I want a beautiful win. If you screw this game up, you're in serious trouble!"
With that, the huddle broke, and the players began their individual work.
Knight called Voskuil over and spoke to him in a soft, gentle voice. Voskuil nodded repeatedly. In the end, Knight patted him on the head like an affectionate father.
"What did Coach say?" Xu Ling asked once Voskuil walked over.
"He said, 'Alan, I hate getting mad at you like I did yesterday. I really do,'" Voskuil recounted vividly, imitating Knight's delivery. "He also said, 'It's because sometimes I think I want you to be a great player more than you do. It breaks my heart, because you'll never be a great player unless you want it yourself. You have the ability. But I can coach you till the end of the world, order you around, yell at you, and you won't improve one bit unless you want it as much as I do. Yesterday, I knew you didn't want it like I do. Somehow, I have to make you feel that way. I don't know if this is the right way, but it's my way.'"
Listening to this thick bowl of chicken soup—equal parts "for your own good" and pure self-indulgence—Xu Ling sneered inwardly.
The routine seemed awfully familiar: first shatter a player's confidence through extreme humiliation, then personally rebuild a new faith that forced them to depend on him. How was that any different from dog training?
Xu Ling might have liked to believe Knight felt a shred of regret over yesterday's outburst, but he knew full well this was simply an essential part of the manipulative cycle—the sweet treat offered after the slap. Show a little fatherly warmth, and the victim would feel profound gratitude, even blaming themselves.
"You sound like you bought it?" Xu Ling asked with mild amusement.
"That's Bob Knight!" Voskuil said excitedly. "He told me I can be a great player!"
Watching Voskuil beam like someone happily counting cash after being sold out, Xu Ling couldn't tell whether the guy was suffering from terminal Stockholm syndrome or if his own mindset was simply too unrefined for this nonsense.
At four in the afternoon, the Texas Tech Red Raiders boarded the bus and headed to their home court at United Spirit Arena.
Their opponents, the Sam Houston State Bearkats, had already arrived.
The visitors looked energized. Hailing from a weaker mid-major conference, they were being paid to play here, and the outcome wouldn't affect their conference standings. Making money, testing themselves against a powerhouse, with zero downside—where else could they find a deal like that?
By contrast, for a Power 5 program like TTU, dropping a game like this would be a devastating blow.
"Those with nothing to lose have nothing to fear" described the Bearkats perfectly.
While TTU possessed superior talent and home-court advantage, an upset was by no means out of the question.
Their absolute core, Jarrius Jackson, was currently hitting the books in an urgent effort to meet academic eligibility requirements, leaving him unavailable.
On top of that, TTU had just endured the bleakest season of the Knight era. Beyond getting whipped around like a spinning top inside the Big 12, the roster had suffered an ugly wave of transfers after the season when the freshmen couldn't stomach Knight's coaching style.
Heading into the first game of the new season, their best player was out, the upperclassmen had little untapped potential left, and though they had seven freshmen, not one was a national top 100 high school recruit.
No matter how one looked at it, this team appeared destined to keep sinking.
Xu Ling chose the number from his previous life—Number 1.
Even so, TTU's Number 1 did not make the starting lineup.
Knight clearly had zero faith in the freshmen and opted instead to start sophomores and juniors.
While this lineup seemed the safest, the results were far from reassuring.
These players were accustomed to playing alongside Jarrius Jackson. With their captain gone, that burden fell onto everyone else. Martin Zeno, who envisioned himself as Jackson's successor, struggled under the coaching staff's death stares.
Their opponents, playing completely unfazed, capitalized immediately. Sam Houston State's captain, small forward Ryan Bright, drove and shot his way to nine points, leading his team to a quick 14–7 lead.
Knight was actively directing from the sideline, perhaps even over-coaching.
He had practically every TTU starter take a turn guarding Bright to see what worked, but nothing did; if anything, Bright only found an easier rhythm.
"Eli!"
Knight bellowed the Number 1's name.
Xu Ling sprang up and hurried to Knight's side.
"Lock down on damn twenty-three!" Knight yelled. "Don't give him a look! He's red-hot right now!"
A moment later, Xu Ling checked into the game, replacing Martin Zeno, who had thrown the offense completely out of sync.
The Bearkats' captain looked like a quintessential redneck: fair-skinned, with his neck and cheeks flushed bright red from the intense exertion, making him stand out immediately.
"Y'all paid tens of thousands of dollars to bring us here just to embarrass yourselves on your own floor?" Bright taunted.
Xu Ling didn't answer. He sprinted into the frontcourt, caught the pass from a teammate, and pointed toward the corner.
The gesture threw off the defense's reads. The split second Sam Houston State's defensive shell shifted, he fired a crisp bounce pass straight to Darryl Dora beneath the rim.
Dora turned and laid it in for an easy bucket.
Xu Ling glanced back at Bright and said evenly, "Coach thought you guys needed a little confidence to make it through the game. Looks like we gave you too much."
"What did you say?!"
Bright's red neck turned an even deeper shade of crimson.
There was no question that even by Power 5 standards, Bright was a solid ballplayer. At six-foot-five, he was sturdy and well-rounded, the type of dependable Division I player with no glaring weaknesses—yet his athletic ceiling, like sloppy foundational code, clamped down hard on his upside.
Xu Ling's defense still had plenty of holes, but he was adept at dangling bait before using his absurd wingspan to wreck an offensive rhythm.
Just as Bright thought his off-ball cut had freed him for a pass, calling for the ball from his teammate, Xu Ling erupted at full speed. Erasing the gap in an instant, he reached out and disrupted the pass.
"Brilliant anticipation!" Pat Knight nearly leaped out of his seat.
Xu Ling chased down the loose ball and pushed the break immediately. Bright hounded him step for step, only to be sent stumbling by a sharp pull-up in transition.
Bright's eyes went wide. Xu Ling had pulled up two full meters behind the standard three-point line, rising cleanly into his shot.
"An audacious transition three from way downtown!" the arena announcer roared.
"It's good!"
"Eli Xu, the freshman from TTU!"
A tidal wave of cheers surged from the stands of United Spirit Arena onto the court. Fans who had never seen Xu Ling play were screaming their heads off for him.
Yet Xu Ling paid no attention to the commotion outside the lines.
A long-missed current coursed through his veins.
He ran the floor with pure joy, and within moments, came up with another steal.
Multiple Bearkats swarmed to contain his transition break, only to watch him rifle a pass to a wide-open teammate for another effortless score.
In just two minutes, the score was knotted at 14–14. The deficit had vanished.
Bright bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air—not from exhaustion, but from sheer shock. Where the hell had this Number 1 from TTU come from?
The Bearkats called a timeout.
As Bright headed toward his bench, he crossed paths with Xu Ling.
"Nice pass back there," Xu Ling said. "I mean the one you threw to me."
Chapter 5