Chapter 43: I Can Fly As High As You Pass the Ball
Coach John Thompson leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.
He had always known how devastating the pick-and-roll between Allen Iverson and Alex Mo could be, but seeing it executed so flawlessly on such a grand stage left him momentarily speechless. Despite his preference for a traditional inside-out game—relying on dominant post players like Patrick Ewing, Alonzo Mourning, and Dikembe Mutombo—he couldn't deny the deadly efficiency of the Mo-I connection.
"What the hell are they even doing out there?" Thompson muttered under his breath.
The hand signals, the fluidity, the chemistry—it was as if Iverson and Alex had been running this play for years. And in a way, they had.
The roots of their pick-and-roll mastery went back to Christmas Eve, 1995. After a grueling 3v3 showdown at Rucker Park, Alex had suggested the idea of running structured plays to maximize their combined strengths. Iverson had scoffed at the notion at first.
"Why would I need a pick?" Iverson had said, cocky as ever. "A crossover's all I need."
But Alex wasn't one to back down. "Watch some real basketball," he insisted, dragging Iverson to a Utah Jazz game on TV. Watching John Stockton and Karl Malone dissect defenses with surgical precision had sparked something in Iverson's mind.
"Alright," AI had finally conceded. "Show me how it's done."
Months of practice had followed, often in empty gyms long after team practice had ended. They honed their timing, experimented with passing angles, and found the perfect balance between Iverson's explosiveness and Alex's sheer dominance in the paint.
Now, on the grandest stage of their college careers, the fruit of their labor was finally being put to the test.
Back on the court, Wake Forest had no answer for the Mo-I pick-and-roll. Tim Duncan, usually the calm and collected defensive anchor, looked visibly frustrated as he tried to rally his team. The problem wasn't just Alex's overwhelming physical presence—it was his versatility. Whether rolling hard to the basket, popping out for a jumper, or drawing in the double team to kick it out to an open shooter, he had an answer for everything Wake Forest threw at him.
As the clock ticked down, Iverson decided to test Alex's boast from earlier.
"How high can you go?" Iverson smirked, bringing the ball up the court.
Alex grinned back. "You throw it, I'll go get it."
Iverson drove, drew Duncan to him, and lofted an impossibly high alley-oop pass—higher than he had ever dared before.
The stadium held its breath as Alex launched himself skyward. His massive frame seemed to defy physics as he rose higher, eyes locked on the ball. Duncan, despite his best effort, couldn't get close.
BOOM!
Alex slammed the ball home, his head level with the rim, sending the basket rocking and the crowd into a frenzy.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" the ESPN commentator shouted. "Mo Ran just looked down at the rim!"
In the CCTV studio back in China, commentator Sun Zhengping was equally stunned. "Director Zhang, have you ever seen anything like this?!"
Zhang Lili, equally astonished, chuckled. "Michael Jordan can fly, but he doesn't have Alex Mo's height and wingspan. Mo can touch heights Jordan can only dream of."
Iverson trotted over to Alex, shaking his head. "Okay, you win. You can fly as high as I throw it."
Chapter 44: Do What You Say and Do What You Want
The second half was all Georgetown.
Iverson, now fully in rhythm, alternated between crafty layups and dazzling assists. But it was Alex Mo who continued to dominate, stuffing the stat sheet with rebounds, blocks, and vicious putbacks.
With a comfortable lead, Georgetown's strategy shifted to wearing down Duncan, forcing him into tough defensive rotations and tiring him out. Duncan fought valiantly, showing why he was regarded as one of the most fundamentally sound big men in college basketball, but against Alex's sheer power and agility, he struggled to keep up.
The ESPN commentary team couldn't help but marvel at the efficiency of Georgetown's game plan.
"Mo Ran isn't just winning this battle," the analyst stated. "He's dominating it. Duncan is known for his defense, but Mo has put him in a straightjacket tonight."
Coach John Thompson, on the sidelines, couldn't suppress a grin. "If they keep playing like this, the championship is ours," he muttered to his assistant.
With five minutes left and a 20-point lead, Wake Forest finally conceded defeat. Dave Odom signaled to his bench, pulling Duncan and the rest of the starters. The game was over.
As Alex and Iverson walked off the court to a thunderous standing ovation, Georgetown's faithful knew they were witnessing something special.
This team was going to the finals.
Chapter 45: Duncan's Dilemma—A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings
In the aftermath of the game, the handshake line was filled with mutual respect.
Duncan, ever the sportsman, approached Alex with a tired but impressed look. "Are you declaring for the draft this year?"
"If we win the championship, I'm in," Alex replied without hesitation. "What about you?"
Duncan hesitated, the weight of his promise to his late mother lingering in his mind. "I... I don't know."
That moment of uncertainty sent a ripple through the basketball world.
Back in the locker room, Duncan sat quietly, deep in thought. For years, he had planned to stay in school, to finish his degree before going pro. But Alex Mo had changed everything. The prospect of facing him again in the NBA intrigued him.
Coach Odom noticed the turmoil in his star player's eyes. "Tim," he said, sitting beside him. "You made a promise, but life changes. If you want to declare, we can find a way for you to finish school later."
Duncan looked up. "You think I should?"
"I think you should do what's best for you," Odom replied. "And if facing Alex Mo in the NBA is what's best, then maybe it's time."
Across the country, NBA scouts and executives were on high alert. If Duncan declared early, the 1996 draft class—already stacked with talent—would become the most competitive in history.
Meanwhile, in Boston, Red Auerbach lit a cigar, staring at footage of Alex Mo's monstrous dunks. "We have to get this kid," he muttered to his staff.
If Duncan declared, the Celtics' tanking strategy might take an unexpected twist. Alex Mo's presence had already sent shockwaves through college basketball; now, he was shaking up the NBA before even stepping onto the court.
The butterfly effect was in motion.
Back in the Georgetown locker room, Alex Mo was unaware of the storm he had unleashed.
He was too busy thinking about one thing—winning the NCAA Championship.