Where the noise did not reach

Chapter 130 Sunset in Texas

As the season enters late March, the signs of the regular season coming to an end are becoming increasingly clear.

The Celtics still dominate the East.

The loss to the Grizzlies was big news in March, but in the long run, it was just a regular season defeat. For the Celtics, who are expected to achieve more than 60 wins, there is no need to invest too much extra emotion in it.

In the West, however, the playoff competition remains fierce and brutal.

At this stage, the competitiveness in the West has become exaggerated and extreme.

Even without Xu Ling leading the Grizzlies, this is a division that puts immense pressure on all Western Conference teams. Just think about how you have to win 50 games to make the playoffs in this division, and even that's not guaranteed. This is an unprecedented level of competition.

Believe me, this is even more suffocating than Yuta Imai's big belly pressing down on Haruko Suzuki.

Now, with Xu Ling involved, this pressure and competition have risen to another level.

The Lakers, who should have acquired Pau Gasol from Memphis this year and achieved the best record in the Western Conference, fell apart due to the trial. Kobe was traded to the Mavericks, creating a second super team. Although the Lakers received consolation prizes such as Pau Gasol, Mike Miller, and Devin Harris, they were basically not competitive.

Even before the Kobe trade, they had already suffered a series of defeats and had now completely withdrawn from the playoff race.

However, the Grizzlies, who should have been third from the bottom in the Western Conference with a record of 22 wins and 60 losses, are currently ranked ninth in the West with a record of 40 wins and 29 losses.

Above them are the Golden State Warriors (41 wins, 27 losses) and the Denver Nuggets; the wins and losses of these three teams will have a profound impact on the Western Conference standings.

On March 22, the Grizzlies faced the Sacramento Kings for the last time this season – a seemingly ordinary game that became the most symbolic match of the entire season.

Just the day before, the Denver Nuggets suffered a brutal defeat at the hands of the Dallas Mavericks in a back-to-back game. Kobe Bryant and Dirk Nowitzki combined for a terrifying 94 points, leading to the Nuggets' complete collapse.

Both teams faced their respective division leaders, yet their outcomes were drastically different: the Grizzlies defeated the league-leading Celtics, while the Nuggets suffered a crushing defeat to the Southwest Division champion Mavericks. This one-sided defeat saw Denver relinquish control of their playoff hopes to Memphis.

The Kings have long since lost the glory of the magnificent team they were at the beginning of the century, and like most of the team's bleak years, they are sliding into another trough.

At this moment, no one knows that this period of stagnation will last for many years.

Tonight they're going in unprepared, hoping to cause some trouble for the grizzly bears who've come from afar.

At the beginning of the season, Ron Artest caused Xu Ling a lot of trouble.

But times have changed, and Xu Ling no longer needs to venture into dangerous situations alone—he now has trustworthy comrades by his side.

Josh Howard delivered his best performance since donning the Grizzlies jersey this night.

He not only successfully contained Artest on the defensive end, but also became an unstoppable one-on-one machine on the offensive end, scoring a whopping 32 points.

Xu Ling enjoyed a rare moment of effortless victory, playing a supporting role throughout while still contributing the team's second-highest 20 points. Jason Kidd, on the other hand, delivered a triple-double with 10 points, 11 rebounds, and 15 assists, perfectly orchestrating the team's offense.

As the final buzzer sounded, the Grizzlies secured a resounding victory on the road, officially tying the Nuggets in the standings.

Due to their superior head-to-head record, the Grizzlies instantly overtook the Nuggets in the standings, returning to the Western Conference playoff picture for the first time since falling out of the top eight two months ago.

“Eli, before you got injured in January, the Grizzlies were eighth in the Western Conference. Did you ever imagine that it would take you two months to get back to that position?”

That evening, Frank Murtaugh, a reporter from the Memphis Business Journal, posed this question to Xu Ling.

"Just getting back to this level isn't enough," Xu Ling replied. "We need to make the playoffs, and we still have twelve games to play. We don't want to be the only team in the Southwest Division that doesn't make the playoffs."

This is a reality the Grizzlies need to face.

They are in a brutal division: the top-seeded Mavericks in the West, the second-seeded Hornets, the Rockets who recently ended their 22-game winning streak, and the defending champion Spurs.
This is definitely the most terrifying competition that a single conference can produce in NBA history.

Moreover, the Grizzlies, who have just moved up to eighth place in the Western Conference, still have a tough hurdle to overcome.

They will then travel to Texas to face the Rockets and Spurs in succession.

Fortunately, the Nuggets' schedule at the end of the season is equally challenging, so the chances remain equal for both teams.

Just as the Grizzlies were setting off for Texas and arriving in Houston, Xu Ling got off the plane and heard some news from Roderick Craig.

“Eli, have you heard?” Craig said. “Coach Knight may be retiring.”

This news surprised Xu Ling.

Since entering the NBA, he has paid little attention to NCAA matters.

Over the past year, he and Knight have spoken a few times, and Knight has also texted him. They have some contact, but it is not frequent.

Xu Ling did not expect Knight to choose to retire at this time.

But this doesn't seem surprising.

Knight was already at an age where most veteran coaches retire, as people's energy is limited, especially for older people.

"Has a press conference been held?" Xu Ling asked.

"not yet."

"When?"

※※※

Bob Knight stood in front of the mirror, his fingers clumsily adjusting his tie knot. It was a deep red tie, the red of the Texas Tech "Red Raiders."

He rarely dressed so formally; usually, his black sweater with worn-out cuffs was his only armor.

But today is different.

Today is a funeral. A funeral for his own career.

The tie knot wobbled like a defeated drunkard under Knight's fingers; he cursed under his breath and almost ripped it off and threw it away.

This is even harder to figure out than designing a defense against Michael Jordan in college games.

Jordan. The name made Knight pause for a moment, his thoughts drifting back to 1984, to that note that read, "Coach, after all this shit, we absolutely won't lose tonight," that golden summer that put him at the top.

He was forty-three years old then, had won everything, and thought that good things would last forever.

And now, at sixty-eight years old, he stands here today, ready to tell the world: I'm finished.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and his son Pat peeked in. "Dad, it's almost time."

Knight took one last look at the old man in the mirror.

His hair was thinning with gray, his eye bags were heavy, and the authority that once commanded the entire team's respect was now replaced by a deeper weariness. He abandoned his tie and simply unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

Screw manners. He was never a decent person.

"Let's go."

The general's voice was somewhat hoarse.

The corridor leading to the press conference was long and quiet.

Knight could hear the dull thud of basketballs hitting the floor coming from the Wimbledon training facility next door—a sound that had once been his heartbeat.

Now, that heartbeat belongs to someone else.

Not long ago, Texas Tech was eliminated in the first round of March Madness.

That was an ugly defeat.

The players were like headless flies, and he stood on the sidelines, finding that his old tricks of yelling, shouting, and slamming the tactical board were completely ineffective.

You can't expect a group of people who can't compete to fight desperately, nor can you expect those with limited abilities to create miracles beyond their capabilities.

That disappointment shattered Knight's belief; they could no longer find a magical newcomer to lead them beyond the shackles of talent.

At that moment, Knight knew it was time. This wasn't a mid-season impulsive resignation, but a thorough, dignified retirement—if that word applied to him.

At the Texas Tech University press conference, the flashbulbs were like a swarm of restless fireflies, and the buzzing whispers subsided instantly when Knight walked in.

Knight saw many familiar faces: the school's athletic director, longtime friends, and the assistant coaches who had stayed with him even during his most difficult times.

Their eyes held a complex mix of respect and regret, perhaps even a hint of relief.

Finally, the old monster is leaving.

Knight sat down and adjusted the microphone.

Faced with a sea of ​​black heads and cameras, I felt like an outdated exhibit.

“I know why you’re here,” Knight said. “For over forty years, I’ve stood on the sidelines, teaching a bunch of kids how to play, how to win, and how to get back up like a man after a loss.”

But the era defined by Knight has ended, just like the 20th century, which will never return.

An end means a complete end.

“I guess some people will think I’m outdated. That my stuff doesn’t work anymore. Maybe they’re right.” Knight laughed almost self-deprecatingly. “Kids these days think more, they have their own ideas. They’re not like Isaiah Thomas, and they’re not like you, Pat. They’re not even like Jarius Jackson.”

Knight surprisingly mentioned the name of the captain he had once angrily denounced as "abandoning us," who later led (or rather, was led by?) the team to a championship, instead of "that name."

"This time last year, we were standing on the top of the mountain." Knight's voice was infused with warmth and genuine emotion. "That was one of the most special championships of my life. Not because of the trophy, but because of the team, those kids, who made this old guy believe that miracles can still happen in college basketball."

Someone in the audience nodded slightly, their eyes shining. It was a look that only those who had experienced that fairytale season together would understand.

“But fairy tales always come to an end.” Knight’s tone suddenly turned cold and hard again. “The championship banner has been hoisted, the victories have faded, and those who were meant to leave have left.”

Knight never mentioned that name. But everyone present knew who he was talking about.

That Chinese guy. The biggest surprise and the most brilliant shooting star in Bob Knight's coaching career. The guy who silenced him with "Wait till I win one," and then actually went and won against that damn kid. The genius he knew he couldn't keep, yet couldn't resist trying to bind him with the responsibility of "leadership." The unfettered one who decisively left after winning everything—he won't come back; that was a predictable outcome.

This led to Knight's final decision.

Because he was old. Because he knew he would never find a player like him again. Because it was the final burst of light in his glorious career, the last ray of light God gave him before he completely fell into darkness.

Now that the light has shone on even more distant places, it's time for him to go.

“I’ve been thinking about when to stop,” Knight continued. “I came to Texas Tech to prove I could still do it. To prove I could still take a mid-table team to the top. I almost did, and we did reach the top last year. But then what? Then you realize the wind is strong at the top, and you can’t stand firm. You realize times have changed, recruitment has become more difficult than ever, kids aren’t afraid of your yelling anymore, they have their own ideas, their own plans. This team, this program, needs a new voice, new energy.”

Knight took a deep breath, preparing to say the words he had practiced many times.

"So, today, I've decided."

At that moment, the side door of the press conference room was gently pushed open. A figure walked in against the light.

He was dressed with an upright posture and walked with ease, which seemed out of place in the slightly outdated sports atmosphere of the room.

A commotion arose in the crowd, and whispers spread like ripples on water.

The flashbulbs went off again, but this time, the focus wasn't on Knight on stage, but on the uninvited guest.

Knight's words caught in his throat. He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the light, and then he saw the face clearly.

It's Eli Xu.

He looks different.

No longer the freshman who was sweating profusely in the training hall, with a defiant and complacent look in his eyes.

He had lost some weight, his muscles were more defined, and he had a calm and confident expression on his face.

He's an All-Star starter, the hope of the Memphis Grizzlies, a star battling for the Western Conference playoffs, the guy who ended the Lakers' season, the guy who wagged his finger at LeBron James, the next NBA superstar—how could he be here? Shouldn't he be preparing for tonight's game or on a plane to his next away game?

Ignoring the commotion around him, Xu Ling walked straight to the front row of the press conference, found an empty seat, and looked up to meet Knight's shocked gaze. His face was expressionless, devoid of any arrogance, only a calm stare.

At that moment, all the emotions surging in Knight's heart—the resentment of being abandoned by the times, the unwillingness to accept the passing of the golden years, and the nostalgia for past glories—suddenly and strangely subsided.

This kid. This kid he once wanted to strangle, yet couldn't help being proud of. He's here. At this moment when everyone is attending his funeral, he stole a moment from that higher, more prestigious alliance to fly over.

Knight felt a tightness in his throat. He cleared his throat and finished speaking in a gentle yet firm tone, recounting what had just been interrupted: "I have decided, effective today, to officially end my career as the head coach of the Texas Tech men's basketball team. I am retiring from the world of basketball."

The era of Bob Knight has come to an end.

Some reporters wanted to interview Xu Ling on the spot, but Xu Ling refused to be interviewed.

Some reporters found out that the Grizzlies were currently in Texas preparing for an away game, which is why Xu Ling was able to come over.

Now that Knight's retirement announcement has been made, the press conference is over, and outsiders need to leave.

Xu Ling, Knight, and the others from Texas Tech arrived at Wimbledon.

The arena was adorned with the banners of the 2007 NCAA national champions and the Final Four MOP jerseys.

"Look who's here, everyone." Knight's voice returned to its usual roughness, but with a strange warmth. "A fucking NBA All-Star player, instead of preparing for the game, comes to attend an old guy's retirement press conference."

Some people laughed, but many more, intimidated by Knight's authority, suppressed their laughter.

“Coach,” Xu Ling said, “I just want to hear for myself how you’ll criticize me in your retirement speech.”

More people laughed, and even Knight couldn't help but grin.

"Insult you?" Knight scoffed. "I can't insult you anymore. You're an NBA All-Star now, worth tens of millions. If I were to insult you like I used to, your fans would tear this old man to pieces."

Knight paused, his gaze sweeping across the room again before finally settling on Xu Ling. At that moment, all the complex emotions in his eyes transformed into undisguised pride.

“But kid, listen to me.” Knight looked at him, just like countless times before in the training gym, “My retirement doesn’t mean I’m dead. I’ll be watching you on TV. If you embarrass TTU outside, I’ll buy a plane ticket to Memphis and rant about you in front of everyone! I mean what I say!”

Xu Ling stood there, his smile deepening, and he nodded.

"I'm ready to serve you anytime, Coach."

Xu Ling met his old teammates and some new students he hadn't seen before. After exchanging greetings, Xu Ling followed Knight to his office, where the occupant would soon be Knight's son, Pat Knight.

Knight gently stroked the desk and said to Xu Ling, "You shouldn't have come."

There was no blame in Knight's tone.

“I know,” Xu Ling replied, “but I had to come.”

"Your game."

"There's still time."

Knight looked at the young man before him, the "period" of his coaching career, and the last exclamation mark he left for the basketball world. He suddenly remembered the rebellious words Xu Ling had once said to him: "Now I finally understand. This is why Larry Bird would never have wanted to play for you."

Now, he seemed to understand a little. It wasn't that his approach was entirely wrong, but rather that some people, like Bird and Xu Ling, had souls that could not be completely tamed by nature. They needed a wider sky. And he, perhaps once the one who tried to clip their wings, ultimately pushed them into the sky with his own hands.

Is this another form of success?

Knight reached out his hand, not to shake hands, but to pat Xu Ling's shoulder heavily.

“Go,” Knight said, “go do what you’re supposed to do.”

Xu Ling had already conveyed his feelings, and he knew that some things did not need to be said.

"Take care, coach."

Xu Ling turned and left, just as suddenly as he had arrived.

Knight stood there, watching him disappear through the doorway.

A moment later, Pat Knight came over and asked softly, "Dad, are you alright?"

Knight didn't answer. He turned and looked out the window; the Lubbock sun was still blazing.

“That’s enough,” he said to his son. “I’m going home.”

(End of this chapter)