The confrontation made the game even more intense.
Both teams raised their physicality. The court became a meat grinder.
Fans ate it up.
This was why they loved NCAA March Madness—every game was do-or-die.
In single-elimination, every team fought like their lives depended on it.
For these college players, every tournament game was Finals Game 7 intensity.
Their futures hung in the balance—whether they'd advance, whether they'd become millionaires.
Halftime arrived.
UCLA led 51-44, up seven on the Wildcats.
Yuuto and Lillard hadn't disappointed—they'd delivered a spectacular first half.
Statistically, they were neck and neck.
Yuuto: 17 points. Lillard: 15 points.
But when you factored in other numbers, Yuuto clearly had the better half.
Beyond his 17 points, Yuuto added 4 rebounds, 3 assists, 1 steal, and 2 blocks.
Lillard, meanwhile, contributed almost nothing defensively—1 rebound, 2 assists, 0 steals.
Yuuto's numbers dominated across the board.
But this wasn't exactly surprising.
Lillard's defensive issues were well-known and had always kept him from climbing higher in mock drafts.
So this half matched scouts' and fans' expectations for both players.
Lillard was naturally dissatisfied.
Fifteen first-half points was impressive.
After all, the intensity had been brutal—scoring 15 under those conditions proved his ability.
But that wasn't his goal tonight. He needed to beat that arrogant Bruins' number 10 across the board.
The Wildcats' coach noticed it too.
Lillard didn't seem to be a match for UCLA's number 10.
Every time his defense failed, the other guy would make instant adjustments.
Then his pressure would increase the next possession.
That kind of adaptability was incredible—like a seasoned veteran rather than a freshman.
This basketball IQ immediately reminded him of the greatest floor general in history: Magic Johnson.
So during the timeout, the Wildcats gave Lillard more screens and pick-and-roll action.
They also installed new defensive schemes targeting Yuuto.
"Tonight, both Yu and Damian have played up to expectations."
"Yu remains unstoppable. Damian shows star potential."
"I absolutely believe both will become NBA stars."
"But after tonight, only one will remain—because this is March Madness!"
The commentators praised both players' first-half performances.
Evaluating whether a player was average took extensive work and time.
You needed massive statistical samples and game film to eliminate possibilities and finally conclude: "Okay, this guy's a bust. We don't need to waste time on him."
But evaluating a good player?
That was easy.
You just watched them play one game, and you could feel how different their talent was.
Like Yuuto and Lillard.
They were guaranteed lottery picks with almost no bust potential.
What NBA teams actually cared about was whether they could anchor a franchise, whether building around them could chase a championship.
That determined whether they went top three, top five, or top fourteen.
Lillard remained elite on offense but limited on defense. He'd be a top-ten pick, but exactly where depended on team needs.
Yuuto?
His versatility and adaptability guaranteed he wouldn't fall past number three.
That free-throw line dunk showcased his athletic gifts.
Talent. Skill. Basketball IQ. Youth.
The perfect franchise cornerstone.
Compared to him, Lillard looked more like a championship puzzle piece.
That was the takeaway from the first half.
...
The second half began.
The Wildcats changed their approach—no longer isolating Lillard. Instead, they went to motion offense.
They executed their plays precisely. The backup guard used his quickness to work pick-and-roll with the bigs.
Using screens to shake Mosely, he attacked the paint, drawing Yuuto's attention before kicking to Lillard on the perimeter.
Yuuto was ready. He'd held back on the help defense, recovering instantly.
But—
Lillard didn't shoot. He swung the ball to the open teammate.
This drive-and-kick action, moving the ball inside-out and back again, created serious problems for UCLA's defense.
Finally—
The Wildcats' power forward caught and finished at the rim.
This was a clear signal.
No more green light for Lillard.
Yuuto couldn't key on one player anymore.
Next possession.
The Wildcats ran the same action—stretching Yuuto's defensive attention, draining his energy.
Lillard swung it again, this time to point guard Mayo, who knocked down a long two.
Mosely respected the ball movement.
The Wildcats used their team game to erase the deficit.
Steve fumed on the sideline.
He was furious that UCLA's defense had been so easily manipulated.
He called Yuuto over. "Stay glued to Damian. Don't worry about anyone else."
Steve needed Yuuto to carry the offense—he wouldn't waste his energy chasing rotations.
Yuuto nodded.
Next possession, he took the ball. Fans anticipated "Yu Time."
He didn't disappoint. On his first touch of the half, he blew past Lillard with ease, then spun away from the help defender with a thunderous pivot before finishing through contact with an acrobatic layup.
Then again.
He carved through two defenders. The Wildcats collapsed.
But Yuuto flicked his wrist, threading a pass through traffic to Mosely.
Wide open from the left wing at the three-point line, Mosely launched—
Clank! Pure iron.
"Fuck!" Mosely cursed internally.
But in games this intense, role players' touch could vanish.
If Japanese players were well-behaved schoolchildren, NCAA players were desperadoes.
Especially in March Madness, this intensity continued every single game.
That's why ESPN's earlier projections had been conservative—the tournament was the ultimate proving ground.
And Yuuto's first tournament performance was undeniably elite.
Fans noticed he looked just as dominant as he had in Pac-12 conference play.
...
Get 20+ chapters ahead on - P.a.t.r.e.o.n "RoseWhisky"