SAN ANTONIO -- He laughed.
Forty-four thousand sets of Alamodome eyes focused on his every movement, millions more watched on TV across the world, a spot in the national championship game hung in the balance as he stepped to the free-throw line with 3.2 seconds remaining, and Emeka Okafor, of all things, chuckled.
"I laughed because I'd always dreamed of being in that position," the Connecticut center said, "And now that it was actually happening, it was like, 'Be careful what you wish for.'"
He missed the first free throw before making the second. It was the only thing he did wrong the entire second half. Connecticut completed a comeback from eight points down with 2:49 left to beat Duke 79-78, and you could almost hear that famous Jack Buck call in the background.
I don't believe what I just saw.
Amazingly, there was the same feeling three hours earlier when, on the same floor that Okafor would turn in one of the greatest second-halves in Final Four history, Georgia Tech guard Will Bynum patiently ran the clock down, drove around two Oklahoma State defenders and scored the game-winning layup with one second left.
The Final Four is never like this. One of the two games is always a stinker.
The "undercard," Georgia Tech-Oklahoma State, was an all-time classic -- and it still managed to get upstaged by Duke-Connecticut. Two nerve-defying finishes. Two tough-as-nails performances.
You hear coaches and players talk about toughness so often that you've long since cast it off into the great cliché graveyard.
That is, until you see in personified.
You watch Oklahoma State star John Lucas III, after missing 10 of his first 13 shots, step off a screen to knock down a 3-pointer from the wing with 26.4 seconds left to tie up the Yellow Jackets. After blowing a double-digit lead, you figure Tech is done for.
But then you watch Bynum, who's already pulled off last-second heroics in two previous games, deliver the biggest shot in his school's history as if it was second nature.
"Coming out of the huddle, [coach Paul Hewitt] said run the screen and roll," Bynum said. "If somebody is open, hit him. If not, take the shot. In my mind I was thinking 'take the shot' the whole time."
You watch Okafor, after wasting away on the bench for 16 of the first half's 20 minutes, re-enter the game in the second half and will his team to victory.
"It was eating me up inside," Okafor said. "My first time in the Final Four, I didn't want to miss a minute. I was going to miss 16."
With nine minutes to go and the underdog Blue Devils continuing to hold the Huskies at bay, Duke freshman Luol Deng took a perfectly timed pass and accelerated to the basket for what appeared to be another big play. "The season was on the line," Okafor said. Out of nowhere, he rose up and swatted the shot. Seconds later, he was on the other end hitting a momentum-turning jumper.
You can't make that stuff up.
We've come to expect such moments from our professionals, the Michael Jordans, the Tom Bradys, the ones who make millions for just that reason. We forget amid the largely pro-like atmosphere of an event like the Final Four that the performers are amateurs, 20-year-olds, guys who will be sitting in chemistry class just days after playing in front of millions.
How often does an event as hyped as the Final Four actually live up to its billing? And how often does Okafor, a 52 percent free-throw shooter, wind up standing at the foul line for the chance to go to the national title game?
"It seemed almost surreal," said Okafor. "I'd envisioned myself in this position a million times, and yet it didn't feel like it was really happening."
Don't worry, Emeka. We couldn't believe what we were seeing, either.
Stewart Mandel covers college sports for SI.com.
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