It Happens Just Like That in the Final Four

Ten seconds. That’s all the Final Four needs. That’s why the Final Four works.

Ten seconds to uplift and devastate, 10 seconds to make a career and kill a spirit, 10 seconds during which sports is stripped down to the sharp corners of its soul.

It happened again Saturday, the Final Four imitating the best of this country’s seven-game championship series and four-hour title games in the blink of an eye.

There were 10 seconds remaining in a national semifinal between Georgia Tech and Oklahoma State. The score was tied, 65-65. The shimmying that ensued is why they call this tournament a dance.

The Final Four put the ball in the hands of a Georgia Tech kid who transferred there last season, who doesn’t start, who had made two goofs just minutes earlier, his name is Will Bynum.

Guarding this guy, the Final Four assigned an Oklahoma State kid who had just tied the game with a three-pointer and who had won the previous tournament game with a similar shot, his name is John Lucas III.

Bynum was supposed to pass. He didn’t.

Lucas was supposed to jump through a pick and get in his face. He did.

With the weight of an entire university on shoulders that didn’t feel a thing, Bynum paused, stutter-stepped, then drove to the basket.

With the weight of what some thought was Cowboy destiny on shoulders that had been strong, Lucas gave hearty chase.

Bynum beat him. Threw up a layup. With 1.5 seconds remaining, the ball banked into the net.

What couldn’t happen, happened, just like that, no instant replay, no protest, no next game.

The 21-year-old sub won.

The 21-year-old star lost.

One didn’t know whether to cheer or cringe, so millions probably did both.

Bynum, who is built like a Gatorade cooler, only smaller, was swallowed by a horde of dancing teammates.

Lucas was choking on his tears.

The Final Four got us again.

Said Bynum: “Words can’t describe what I’m feeling right now. This is a dream come true.”

Said Lucas: “That was my man. I was supposed to stop him. I didn’t do my job. I put this loss on my back. I’m going to carry it with me the rest of my life.”

It’s not fair. Looking at the big picture later, we’ll realize that Lucas didn’t lose this game any more than Bynum won it.

But it’s perfectly fair. College teaches us nothing if not about life, and isn’t life about moments, and how you learn from one while preparing for the next?

Bynum’s moments began last season, when he was unhappily playing for Arizona and came to a conclusion.

“I wanted to go there because I thought I was a man, but my mom always wanted me to go to Georgia Tech,” the Chicago kid said. “I realized, I wasn’t yet a man, and my mom was right.”

So he transferred after only a couple of games, was eligible this year, found himself again on the bench, started just one game, but had matured enough to not complain.

“The coaches told me I would get my time, so I hung in there, I believed them,” he said, and the faith worked both ways.

Bynum made a layup that clinched the tournament victory over Nevada, a three-pointer that clinched the next win against Kansas, and had scored nine points Saturday as Georgia Tech held a lead throughout the game.

But then came the final two minutes, and new moments. With his team leading by four points with 2:01 remaining, Bynum missed the front end of a one-and-one free-throw situation.

Then, with his team leading by only three points with 1:24 remaining, he missed a quick and silly layup attempt.

Which brings us to John Lucas. It suddenly became his moment.

His well-chronicled transfer from troubled Baylor, his close relationship with his former NBA-playing father, his leadership in the tournament win against St. Joseph’s ... all came together with a fall-away moonshot with 28 seconds remaining.

It swished. His three-pointer had tied the game. But both men wondered whether they each didn’t have one moment left.

Said Lucas: “I was happy, but I wasn’t that happy because I knew we still had to stop them.”

Said Bynum: “I looked up at the clock and saw 28 seconds and thought, oh, that’s plenty of time.”

Georgia Tech called time out and set up a play that would go into motion with 10 seconds remaining. Bynum was supposed to come off a high screen set by center Luke Schenscher, check the opening, and, if the middle was clogged, dump the ball in the corner to Marvin Lewis.

Said Bynum: “I never even looked at Marvin. I was taking this shot.”

Said Lewis: “It was OK with me. I was thinking, once again, it’s going to be Will Bynum to the rescue.”

At that moment one wondered, how can players so young handle so much pressure?

Said Bynum: “No pressure, really. Pressure is growing up in Chicago, where a wrong decision on the way to school can change your life. The basketball court is where I’m comfortable.”

Said Lucas: “I saw the pick and roll and thought, they had not run that all game!”

And then it was over, the difference between hero and heartache as short as the distance between Lucas’ chin and his chest.

Georgia Tech has a chance to win its first national championship. Oklahoma State, which has not won in more than half a century, might not get this close again.

The only thing wonderfully and painfully certain is, next year, there will be another Final Four.

Said Bynum: “Now all I’m thinking is, one more game, one more game.”

Said Lucas: “I keep thinking about how hard it’s going to be to get through the summer.”

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. For previous Plaschke columns, go to latimes.com/plaschke.