Chapter 33: Life Is An Explosion
One of Duke’s major mistakes in the first half was not anticipating that TTU would have Xu Ling play point guard. And this point guard did not fulfill the traditional organization duties—he came on and immediately launched continuous individual offense, scoring 10 points in a row.
After Xu Ling scored 10 points in a row, Duke called a timeout. Mike Krzyzewski’s other mistake was misjudging Xu Ling’s ability to handle pressure.
From the start of the game, Duke used double teams on the wings to disrupt TTU’s offensive rhythm—that was a good tactic, after all, the wing space is small and vision is limited.
But when Xu Ling switched to initiating offense from the top of the arc, the situation changed. Unless the opponent had five “Kevin Durant”-like monsters with height, long arms, and great mobility, it would be impossible to completely seal off the passing lanes from the top of the arc.
Just as Knight wished, Xu Ling used continuous individual threat to draw the full tilt of Duke’s defense, and in turn activated his teammates.
The one who benefited the most was sophomore guard Allen Voskuhl—he came off the bench for Jarrius Jackson and perfectly enjoyed this tactical dividend.
Voskuhl is a typical “no NBA future, but extremely useful in NCAA” player. He can dribble, has no dead spots outside the three-point line, and can even shoot super long three-pointers. As long as someone on the team can draw defensive attention, he can provide stable output.
However, although Duke lacked a counter to TTU’s outside duo, they still had Josh McRoberts, the former USA’s Top High School Player, as a safety net.
McRoberts’s presence was very obvious in the final minutes of the first half, doing everything he couldn’t do after entering the NBA—high-post face-up offense, kaleidoscope-like low post offense skills, tough rebound protection, and super rim protection—he did it all to TTU.
It was precisely McRoberts’s performance that kept Duke from collapsing under TTU’s wave like Niagara University did.
But the advantage was already established.
At halftime, Xu Ling led the Red Raiders to a 46-38 lead over the Blue Devils with 19 points, 6 rebounds, and 4 assists.
“Eli! Eli! Charge! Charge! Charge!!!”
TTU fan section roared deafeningly.
Xu Ling nodded to them from afar, without much response.
At halftime, Bob Knight gave an ESPN interview.
The reporter couldn’t help mentioning Xu Ling’s repeated provocations of Krzyzewski: “What do you think of Eli’s behavior? Why not stop him?”
Knight said expressionlessly: “I told him he can do anything he wants.”
If Xu Ling were there, he would definitely complain: “666, this guy’s openly lying.”
The NBA general managers on site were all discussing Xu Ling’s first-half performance.
Some teams had been tracking Xu Ling for months, but when he put up even better performances in March Madness, they couldn’t help comparing him to other key rookies being watched.
Oden is unfathomably deep, but most of his games are like an hourglass, only showing so much each time.
Durant is hailed as the strongest freshman ever, but that’s just a stats-based label. In reality, by the end of the season, Xu Ling’s stats had caught up to his. Moreover, the latter showed more game content.
“The question now is,” Kevin McHale said to those around him, “how much of what he’s shown in college can he bring to the NBA?”
Coincidentally, SuperSonics general manager Sam Presti, also immersed in scouting rookies, raised a similar question: “A few years ago, Adam Morrison looked like Larry Bird returned from the void, but in the end, he was just a shadow cast by Bird.”
“Sam,” his colleague said, “Eli doesn’t have diabetes.”
“I know, but the sample size is still insufficient.” Presti’s question was not that he doubted Xu Ling had profound potential, but where that potential ranked in the 2007 draft class? Top five? Top three? Or top two?
Top five is one thing, top three is another, top two is a completely different level.
If top two, it means he completely surpasses Kevin Durant. Even Greg Oden can’t say he completely surpasses Durant. If Xu Ling surpasses Durant, is there really a gap between him and Oden?
In the locker room at halftime, Knight praised all the players’ performances—except Jarrius Jackson.
“J.J., I’m tired of criticizing you, really tired!” Knight’s voice was full of anger. “I really want to thank you for your four years of contributions, but you have to step up when we need you most! I can’t accept that one of the best players I’ve ever coached is a softie!”
Hearing this, Jackson’s teammates could all feel the rage surging inside him. He looked like he desperately needed a chance to vent.
“I’ll keep you starting, but remember, you owe this team a lot!”
Knight’s typical “bullying-style motivation” reminded Xu Ling of what Rockets veteran and sideline genius Mr. Zhou Qi once said while commentating: The most annoying thing in basketball is when coaches are half-baked teachers with only half a bucket of water in their bellies!
Isn’t Knight just such a teacher? The difference is, his belly isn’t half a bucket of water, but a lot, lot of water. Maybe because there’s so much “water,” his brain often gets waterlogged too, leading to those endless misdeeds.
Then, Knight began seriously arranging the second-half tactics and declared: “Only by thoroughly destroying Josh McRoberts can we achieve complete victory. Remember, the team entering the Sweet Sixteen tonight is us Red Raiders!”
The locker room instantly boiled over.
Pat Knight and Chris Beard were equally fired up.
Especially Beard, who excitedly said: “This is coaching!”
Xu Ling didn’t feel fired up, and even jokingly thought—if Coach K had Beard’s flattery skills, his relationship with Knight would last forever.
As soon as the second half began, Red Raiders captain Jarrius Jackson went berserk, extremely aggressive on defense.
Of course, aggressive doesn’t mean good defense, but that’s the attitude Knight wanted.
Intimidating momentum causes opponents to make mistakes.
Duke’s pass was stolen, Xu Ling dribble pushed forward, and just past half court, Jackson was already positioned in the frontcourt.
Xu Ling passed the ball directly.
Jackson hit a pull-up three-pointer.
Then came Duke’s response, with Josh McRoberts brought to the high post—Knight’s arrangement was to have Xu Ling guard him.
This was just like the Rockets’ arrangement a few years ago in the playoffs having Tracy McGrady guard Nowitzki.
Their underlying logic was the same.
Better to let someone truly talented try than have the rotten interior pretend to match up.
This arrangement precisely proved Knight saw through Josh McRoberts’s essence of being outwardly tough but inwardly weak.
Xu Ling forced McRoberts’s position further and further outside—either he shot like Nowitzki, or drove with the ball, but under high-intensity defensive pressure, McRoberts couldn’t dribble at all.
His instinctive passing intent was seen clearly by Xu Ling.
“Swat!”
Xu Ling stole the ball, and Duke’s set play turned to defense again due to the turnover.
“Eli’s steal, TTU fast break coming, outside the three-point line in the frontcourt, Jarrius Jackson… hits!!!”
“It’s him again! Jarrius Jackson awakens from slumber, hits two straight three-pointers, expanding TTU’s lead to 14 points!”
“Duke calls timeout!”
“Eli, great defense, the best defense I’ve ever seen!” Knight shouted with the tactical board. “They’re out of options! Keep pressuring them, they’ll go back to McRoberts last! Watch his low post offense!”
Since coming to Texas Tech University, Xu Ling hadn’t seen Knight this fully invested in a long time.
He had been coaching before too, but compared to tonight, the energy and decisions weren’t even in the same league.
Maybe because of Duke, maybe because of old K’s stimulation, maybe because he realized the fourth national champion was no longer out of reach—either way, his current demeanor would remind Indiana University veterans of the 80s, his peak era.
The adjustments Mike Krzyzewski could make weren’t many. This Duke team had one obvious difference from others he’d coached: no leader to carry the team forward.
Once suppressed, or offense and defense cut out, he couldn’t count on anyone to step up and carry the team.
So, at times like this, he could only try to get the ball to the most reliable person.
Duke’s was Josh McRoberts.
Entrusting the game-deciding key moments to an unreliable person, Duke’s outcome was easy to predict.
Krzyzewski numbly finished the final tactical setup, then watched his players take the court.
He didn’t dare hope for any good result, because that heavy feeling wrapped around him like cold iron chains. Then he couldn’t help thinking, what’s the difference between me now and Coach Knight after 1993?
Knight had long bid farewell to his 80s glory days, and Duke’s greatest 90s in history were over a decade past; invisible predicaments loomed before Krzyzewski.
He wanted to win once more, which would put his national championships ahead of Knight’s. But what would that bring? Becoming the “greatest coach in modern NCAA”? Would that glory bring true happiness? Would Coach Knight feel pride? No, that pride was long gone.
Whether for Knight or Krzyzewski, they both knew the crack’s key was they both wanted to be the “greatest coach.” If Krzyzewski wanted that unique throne, he couldn’t have the “disciple” label—that weakened greatness. So, in every step of Duke’s ascent, he deliberately emphasized differences from Knight, trying every way to escape that mentor’s shadow.
This one-way severance led to today’s situation.
He touched Knight’s greatest reverse scale—loyalty. Knight of course wanted to be the greatest college coach ever, but if someone surpassed him, he could accept it. If that someone was his disciple, he’d even be happier. Knight’s only wish was, at Krzyzewski’s coronation, to hear him humbly admit: “Without the General, I couldn’t have reached this height.”
This was the glory Knight deserved, and Krzyzewski refused to give it, so Knight would never forgive him.
The game resumed, a 14-point gap—not too much, not too little, but like an abyss between the teams. This possession was crucial.
Texas Tech’s man defense was airtight, even Jarrius Jackson locked down his man tightly. After failing to tear open from outside, Duke had to pass to Josh McRoberts, pinning hopes on inside isolation play.
This was the moment Xu Ling had been waiting for.
Like a leopard long in ambush, he discerned McRoberts’s fatal weakness in observation—once offense initiated, all his attention focused inside the paint. This deadly habit gave cunning defenders like Xu Ling a chance to strike.
McRoberts spun, jab step, shook Daryl Dora; he tried to carry the Blue Devils’ flag with tough inside offense, dragging the game’s flame onward. But at the instant of his shot, TTU’s No. 1, the ghost in battle gear, emerged silently from behind. He leaped high, height even surpassing McRoberts’s release point, and with a crisp bang, brutally swatted the just-released basketball to the floor!
“What a spectacular block! Eli completely buried Josh McRoberts’s offense!”
“TTU fast break!”
Xu Ling shot forward like an arrow off the string. Martin Zeno quickly dribbled, forming a three-man fast break alignment. At the three-point line, he made a quick cross-court pass, the basketball flying to Xu Ling. Blocking him was Duke starter DeMarcus Nelson, the best athlete among them.
Xu Ling palmed the ball, exploded upward like a cannon shell. His stronger physique took absolute advantage on contact, like an unshakable war god, directly knocking Nelson aside. He roared, voice like a bellow from hell’s depths, veins bulging on his right arm gripping the basketball, slamming it down with thunderous force!
Explosion!
Basketball through the net, rim shaking, air screeching.
This was more than a dunk—it was a total explosion.
What it blasted away wasn’t just DeMarcus Nelson, but Duke Blue Devils’ season.
PS: CN esports fans really suffered this year.
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