Chapter 3: Academic Basketball

The most notable figure in the 1996 NCAA was Allen Iverson.

Although after the 1993 bowling alley brawl, the traditional college basketball scene disliked this rebellious, undersized player, and prestigious basketball schools did not extend invitations to him, when Georgetown University finally took Iverson under its wing, many top programs secretly felt envious.

Despite some injuries during his college career, Iverson’s draft prospects remained unaffected.

After the heartbreaking loss of the championship, Iverson shed no tears. At the post-game press conference, he remained the media’s focal point.

“Even though we lost, as the number two seed, we would have made it to the finals—not just the East Regional Finals, but the national championship. I will bring a title to Georgetown University!”

No one minded Iverson’s boastful words; the reporters on site welcomed such a statement.

Unlike Ray Allen’s measured and humble responses, Iverson was clearly more emotional. Coupled with his expressive eyes revealing his feelings, many media members quietly cheered him on.

“Allen, can you talk about the final possession? Was your shot affected by Lee’s defense?”

Most reporters hoped Iverson had delivered a buzzer-beater, as that would have made for a perfect championship story.

Iverson was reluctant to revisit that moment, but noticing the sports media hadn’t caught that he was blocked, he immediately put on a nonchalant front:

“The defense didn’t bother me at all; I just missed the shot. Clearly, God wasn’t on our side tonight.”

“As for Lee, maybe he should go to Hollywood and star in some kung fu movies. By the way, his punches are way too soft!”

With a wry smile, Iverson, his right cheek slightly swollen, mimicked a punching stance, prompting good-natured chuckles from the audience.

They spared him questions about the conflict, but Iverson brought it up himself, causing some reporters to whisper among themselves before concluding:

“Allen Iverson has really matured!”

“...”

As Coach Jim Calhoun escorted Ray Allen back to the locker room, the team was already packing up.

Some Black reporters disliked Ray Allen, feeling his demeanor was more “white,” and his manner of speaking resembled that of an Englishman.

“English Boy” was the nickname they teased him with.

Yet both his high school and current college coach, Calhoun, especially admired Ray Allen’s self-discipline and maturity, believing he could become a true leader.

“Well done, Lee! Finally snagged a championship in college.”

Ray Allen smiled as he patted Lee’s shoulder, the closest friend he had made in college.

Lee just smiled in return, though he wasn’t content with such results. Upon joining the team, he had been bottom of the bench in his freshman year and only a substitute in his sophomore year.

The stubbornness of traditional college basketball left talents like him powerless. Even a prodigy like Ray Allen started as a substitute in his freshman year.

“Rest well tonight. Tomorrow we leave. Once we get to Indianapolis, everyone needs to be ready.”

“I don’t want to lose to Colgate University!”

Jim Calhoun was unquestionably the team’s leader. He had coached at the University of Connecticut for ten years, and when he made a request, players obeyed without question.

“All right, coach, we’re ready!”

Travis Knight, a white big man who had become a team leader by his junior year, quickly promised on behalf of his teammates.

Everyone echoed the sentiment, and Calhoun nodded with satisfaction. Regardless of the final outcome, winning the Big East Championship was a decent achievement.

Last year, the University of Connecticut’s women’s basketball team had won the NCAA national title, while the men’s team only reached the Elite Eight—a somewhat awkward situation.

Lack of star players was no longer an excuse, and Coach Calhoun hoped for better results this year.

...

Cross-state flights were never pleasant, and these players were not big stars. Naturally, they didn’t enjoy the luxury of NBA charters.

In an era with little entertainment, their options for distraction were limited to playing cards and reading magazines.

Ray Allen flipped through a magazine and then excitedly said:

“The Bulls have a shot at breaking the regular-season record. This year, Michael Jordan will claim his fourth personal championship. No one can match him!”

In 1996, nine out of ten basketball fans idolized Jordan. Lee, however, was not as fervent as Ray Allen. For him, making money was the priority:

“I bet the Bulls will win 72 games!”

Lee propped his chin on his hand, raising an eyebrow at Ray Allen. Such information was common knowledge to him.

“Seventy-two wins? That’s exaggerated, but maybe Jordan really can do it!”

“If it weren’t for my family, I’d definitely enter the draft after my senior year like Jordan. Lee, I suggest you play one more year; the coach will give you more minutes next season.”

Seeing Ray Allen transform into a die-hard fan, Lee secretly grimaced:

“It’s not about the stats. It’s those damn scouts looking at me with biased eyes. My muscles might be smaller, but they treat me like a high schooler!”

“Numbers can’t change prejudice. I need a job that pays. I have student loans to repay and too many expenses.”

Ray Allen shrugged. With a child of his own, he understood Lee’s mindset but, as a good friend, spoke honestly:

“You might not know Kevin Ollie. He’s about your height but perhaps more explosive.”

“He went undrafted in ’95. I remember his college stats were just 6.3 points per game.”

“There are too many guards in the league. If you enter the draft this year, be prepared mentally.”

Lee nodded helplessly. That was why he disliked traditional college basketball. Last year, as a role player, he averaged 4.7 points, becoming the top “energy guy” on the team.

This year, his stats rose to 9.8 points, 4.3 rebounds, and 4.1 assists per game, ranking fourth on the team but still only earning a bench spot.

Coach Calhoun treated him well, but most starting positions were occupied by juniors.

Apart from Ray Allen’s slight privilege, everyone else had to strictly follow the system and grind out offensive time.

Thinking about an uncertain future, Lee hesitated briefly before pushing those doubts aside.

As an underdog, he needed to move to a more talented league!

...

On March 14, the RCA Dome in Indianapolis was packed, nearly 40,000 spectators’ cheers echoing throughout the arena.

During the first round of the NCAA tournament, Colgate University faced the University of Connecticut. Seven minutes and forty-three seconds into the game, Ray Allen nailed a three-pointer from the right wing, bringing the score to 21-5.

Connecticut had opened with a sudden 15-0 run. Seeing Ray Allen celebrate with a single finger pointed skyward, many fans joyfully shouted along.

Coach Calhoun was very satisfied with the team’s performance; perhaps this year they could make a breakthrough.

From the bench, Lee waved a towel before returning to his seat, sighing quietly:

“When the game’s in hand, everyone steps up...”