The whistle blew.
Derrick Favors was called for the foul.
Rex stepped to the line for the and-one free throw.
Twenty-three thousand pairs of eyes locked onto the paint.
Barkley leaned on the broadcast desk, one eyebrow raised.
“Here we go again.
Familiar free-throw time for Rex.” Kenny Smith laughed.
“I’ll put money on the miss.
Career free-throw percentage through this tournament is barely over fifty.” The crowd already knew the script.
Half of them stood early, eyes fixed on the rebound spot.
Rex raised the ball with casual indifference.
The arc was flat.
The ball smashed the front of the rim and kicked high.
In the same instant Rex exploded upward.
Favors and Shumpert tried to box him out.
Neither mattered.
The 7’1″ frame rose like it had been launched from a catapult.
One long arm snatched the ball in mid-air and slammed it home.
KRA-BOOM——!!
Missed free throw.
Violent putback.
And-one converted into a 2+2.
“Come on, that’s exactly what I wanted to see!” Barkley grabbed his head and let out a scream that belonged on a chicken farm.
“Same move again!
Free-throw brick followed by the putback dunk!” Kenny Smith pounded the desk.
“I’ve gone through every March Madness tape this year.
Rex has done this exact sequence in every single game.
It’s not a coincidence anymore.
It’s his signature.
Exclusive paint romance.” Score: 6–0.
One minute played.
Favors stood under the rim with his arms hanging, legs already heavy.
The entire Georgia Tech bench started to tighten.
Nobody wanted to attack the paint anymore.
In the VIP seats Steve Francis set his soda down, mouth twitching as he looked at Yao.
“Yao, this isn’t just a shadow of Shaq.
This is an upgraded, weaponized Shaq.
When Shaq missed free throws he complained.
This kid misses and then goes up and tries to rip the rim off the stanchion.” Yao nodded, eyes full of agreement.
Francis exhaled.
“Good thing your primes never overlapped.
If the two of you had been on the national team at the same time the paint would have been illegal.
Beijing gold might have been automatic.” Yao watched Rex raise an eyebrow toward the crowd and gave a helpless little smile, then delivered the line in his usual dry style.
“With that level of dominance I’d probably have to ask the coach to put me on the bench so I could hand him towels and sports drinks.” Francis nearly choked laughing and slapped Yao’s shoulder.
“I’d still rather see you two on the same NBA team.
Imagine a 7’6″ Sixth Man of the Year.” The game became a one-man show.
Georgia Tech threw three different defensive schemes at him—pack the paint, front the post, constant doubles.
All of them died.
Shumpert was locked onto Paul George and could offer no help.
Favors could not move Rex, could not jump with him, and did not have the height.
Every possession was torture.
Halftime horn.
Toyota Center scoreboard: 58–34.
Twenty-four-point lead.
Individual line flashed across the big screen, blindingly bright: **Rex Valen: 32 points, 19 rebounds, 6 blocks, 2 assists** **Derrick Favors: 6 points, 3 rebounds, 6 turnovers, posterized three times** As the teams walked off, Rex stopped beside Favors.
“Derrick.” Favors was still breathing hard, eyes wary.
“What?” “You’re really a projected top-three pick?” Rex let out a short sigh.
“I’m not just questioning your game.
I’m starting to question the entire NBA draft…” “Is this really the standard?” He turned and walked into the tunnel, leaving Favors frozen in place, brain empty.
Questioning the draft standard was the same as saying a top-three talent was dragging the whole process down.
“Motherfucker…” Favors’ confidence finished collapsing.
Fifteen minutes later the second half began.
Across the Pacific, the Sina Sports broadcast was already at full volume.
Ke Fan’s voice raced.
“Here it comes!
Beautiful!
Double-team again and Rex just spins through both of them for the dunk!
Georgia Tech’s trap is completely useless.
Favors’ height and size disadvantages are being exposed on every possession!” “Again!
Rex grabs the offensive board through two bodies, finishes off-balance, and draws the foul on Favors!
And-one!” “Tonight Rex is just randomly selecting one lottery prospect and destroying his stock.
Today’s victim is Derrick Favors.” Su Qun adjusted his glasses, tone more measured but still stunned.
“I’ve watched every high-intensity elimination game Rex has played this March.
Objectively speaking, even peak Yao Ming’s interior dominance does not match what we’re seeing right now.” “Yao relied on skill, height, and the mid-range.
Rex is playing with a body that violates physics.
The athletic tools are generational—two-way, speed and power together.” “I honestly believe basketball is turning a brand-new page tonight.” The second half was a formality.
Georgia Tech never recovered.
Favors stopped fighting for position.
Every catch looked hesitant.
Shots kept missing.
With eight minutes left Shumpert’s mid-range jumper rimmed out.
Rex ignored the two defenders in front of him, rose, and swallowed the rebound with those long arms.
He landed and immediately went back up, one-handed putback over Favors.
The rim shook.
Dust settled.
The arena scoreboard updated in real time: **40 points, 25 rebounds, 8 blocks** The first 40-25 of March Madness history.
Plus eight blocks.
Kenny Smith’s voice cracked with pure adrenaline.
“History just got rewritten again!
Rex is the first player in March Madness history to post 40 points, 25 rebounds, and 8 blocks in a single game!” “I can feel Derrick Favors’ despair through the screen.” Barkley pointed straight at Rex.
“I am officially calling him the best college player in America in 2010.
Favors was third on the last mock draft.
His stock just got erased.” “So stop asking where Rex is going to be drafted.
I’ll give you one number.” “Number one overall.
NBA front offices, place your orders.” The rest of the game was garbage time.
Coach Cleveland pulled Rex to save his legs.
The final horn sounded through Toyota Center.
92–65.
Fresno State by twenty-seven.
For the first time in program history the Bulldogs were Final Four bound.
The bench emptied.
Players flooded the floor.
Paul George slammed into Rex with a full-body hug, screaming.
Kevin Minusnett raised both arms and crashed into every teammate he could find.
Rex simply closed one fist, eyes burning.
“Eighty-one trials.
Only two left.”