Huntington State's lead was like a gust of wind.
Their only chance was to exploit TTU's disorganized start, build a big lead, and ride it to a win. They did briefly turn the game into exactly that ideal scenario, but as the courtside commentator put it: "Red Raiders No. 1, Eli Xu, has broken the Bears' momentum!"
The other commentator said: "This international player from the East doesn't look rattled at all. Honestly, he reminds me of Jarrius Jackson as a freshman!"
For TTU, whose recruiting pull was long past its peak, evaluating freshmen and sophomores before the Big 12 Conference tournament began was the main goal of the season. And Xu Ling's outstanding performance in his debut gave off a very particular feeling. Just looking at the blend of his talent and skill, it was easy to start thinking about his future—the NBA, maybe?
Knight, too, had seen Xu Ling's potential in those few minutes of real game action. He just didn't much care for the freshman's personality. Not only because the rookie's pride was too fierce, and not only because he dared to challenge his authority in public, but more because of the way the kid held everything else in contempt and focused only on himself and his opponent.
Was that a bad habit? Certainly not. Focus on the court is an important measure of a player. But Knight wanted Xu Ling to show more command of the game around him. A great star should control the floor the way he controls the ball. Just now, for instance, when he had brought the crowd to a peak, the fans had roared; if he had played along even a little, he could have lifted the atmosphere to another level.
Instead, all he did was trash-talk his opponent and then ignore the crowd.
Remembering that this kid had dared to bring up Larry Bird the day before—what did this little brat who didn't know his place know about anything?—Knight grew angrier the more he thought about it. He turned, fixed his eyes on Xu Ling, and looked for something to pick at, only to find that the little bastard had just played so well there was nothing to fault.
"You could say we hadn't found our rhythm at the start, but you've already answered the other team with your play. From now on, if the rhythm goes back to them, somebody's going to be in big trouble!"
Knight threw down his threat, and the timeout ended.
The Bears hoped TTU's No. 1 would lose his rhythm after the timeout. Wishful thinking. This was the first official game Xu Ling had played since his transmigration. Before it, he had trained hard for months, finally convincing the coaching staff he could play on the wing, and now he had to prove himself in a game.
And because in his previous life he had long been an also-ran in terms of raw talent on the court, he was actually more used to playing from behind. He had grown up in an environment of "What do I do if the other guy is taller than me? What if he's faster? What if he can jump higher? What if his physical gifts, the measurable ones and the athletic ones, simply bury mine?" Now, all at once, he had turned into a player who always sat near the top of the talent pool. Within TTU, apart from Captain Jackson, no one was his match.
And in his first NCAA game, the Huntington State Bears couldn't apply any pressure either. Bears captain Ryan Bright went silent as soon as Xu Ling came on.
After the timeout, Xu Ling contributed more on defense. He came up with steals and blocks in help defense; his whole mind was on that end of the floor. Meanwhile his teammate Martin Zeno, back on the court, began to show the form of the team's second-leading scorer, and freshman guard Charlie Burgess, who came on alongside Xu Ling, made a good impression on the fans with his speed.
The game turned into a rout. TTU assistant coach Chris Beard said what was on his mind: "Eli's immediate impact might be even stronger than J.J.'s was back then."
Courtside, an ESPN reporter named Ryan Jones was listlessly jotting notes on this lopsided "buyout game." TTU had long since stopped being an ESPN priority, and not without reason. But now the reporter's pen stopped, his eyes fixed on the Chinese freshman wearing No. 1.
Early in the second half, the game was already decided. Knight, whose main purpose was evaluating players, didn't keep Xu Ling in long. In the end Xu Ling came out with thirteen minutes left, finishing with 16 points, 6 rebounds, 4 assists, 4 steals and 3 blocks in 21 minutes of play.
Looking at the box score with every column filled in, then thinking back to the figure on the court—listed at 201 centimeters in shoes, with a startling wingspan, outstanding run-and-jump athleticism, and polished skill—Ryan Jones circled the name "Eli Xu" heavily in his notebook.
"A diamond in the dust," he thought, "especially on a team like TTU that's been far from the center of the spotlight for so long."
TTU wasn't a school ESPN focused on, because Knight no longer held any appeal as a recruiter.
Why? Because Knight still did things the old way.
He always prioritized talking to a player's parents rather than the player himself, and the strongest promise he could give those parents was: On my team he may not play well, but he will never drop out of school!
Knight had always been proud of the graduation rate among his players, far above average.
Twenty years ago, that might have been a measure parents cared about deeply.
But now, parents—especially single parents working three jobs to raise a kid, waiting for the brat to reach the NBA and start minting money—had only one thought: Academics? Academics my ass???
If the NBA hadn't had an age limit, LeBron James would have declared for the draft at sixteen.
What person in his right mind would pass up a million-dollar NBA salary to work for free at the NCAA for the sake of so-called pure basketball, scraping by in his own hard life while the college sports establishment worked its mind games on him: "A pure game where players don't make money—that's exactly what makes college basketball special!"
For the past six years, most high school phenoms had never gone to the NCAA at all.
Every kid who declared straight out of high school into the NBA draft dreamed the same good dream: "I'm the next Kobe/McGrady/Garnett."
Sadly, the results weren't what they hoped for. There were freaks like James—an eighteen-year-old with a thirty-eight-year-old's face and the mental maturity of a forty-eight-year-old—but far more common were overgrown infants like Kwame Brown, Eddy Curry and Darius Miles, whose ability didn't match their ambition and whose mental maturity fell far short of any adult standard.
So this year the league and the union together ended the era of high schoolers entering the NBA draft.
Otherwise, college basketball fans would never have gotten to see generational talents like Oden and Durant—the kind who come along once a decade—play in the NCAA.
Knight didn't want Xu Ling to draw a great deal of attention early, because fame warps a person, no matter how pure he once was. And he had a bit of selfishness in it too. He wanted to coach Xu Ling for four years.
Since coming to TTU, it had been a long time since he had felt excited about any player under him. One of the great regrets of his life was failing to stop Bird in time when Bird, unable to adjust to the atmosphere at Indiana University, had made up his mind to leave. If he had shown more care for the players under him then, what followed could absolutely have been avoided. But a missed chance is a missed chance.
A few years later, heaven gave him a second chance. He brought to Indiana University the greatest player in the school's history—Isiah Thomas. Their relationship was so complicated it was fascinating to ponder; love and hate ran almost equally strong. Years later, Thomas summed up the bond between teacher and pupil in a single line: "Sometimes I really want to put a bullet in him, and sometimes I want to give him a hug and tell him I love him."
In his sophomore year Thomas led the team to a national championship, and by then he was mature enough that there was no reason for him to keep playing college basketball. So he became the first of Knight's players to leave the team before finishing four years and enter the NBA draft. Only years later did Knight realize how rare the chance to coach a player like Thomas had been.
Now he was looking at another one. As rebellious as Thomas and Bird, and so enormously gifted.
In Knight's mind, Xu Ling's debut had been close to perfect. But in the locker room he still kept a straight face and scolded: "Eli, don't go thinking you're something special because you torched some weak team from the Southland Conference. Remember: real competitors never pat themselves on the back over a win like that!"
Xu Ling couldn't help rolling his eyes. What was wrong with this old man? Win, and you weren't allowed to be happy; lose, and who knew what kind of barking you'd get.
"What kind of face is that?!" Knight was incensed.
Xu Ling answered with his trademark deadpan humor: "The face of a man working hard to digest what you just said."
The players burst out laughing, and the mood in the locker room lightened considerably.
A few days later, TTU beat another weak team from a small conference, and then the whole team flew to Oakland, California, for the Pete Newell Classic. It was the most important set of games before the Big 12 Conference tournament began.
Chapter 6