<table> </table> BOISE, Idaho | There was this telling moment, and this was not a moment from some distant past. No, this just happened. Missouri&#8217;s Leo Lyons had the ball, and he saw an open lane to the basket.</p><p>He attacked &#8212; moving quickly without hurrying, as John Wooden used to say &#8212; one dribble, a step, a jump, a flawless NBA move. On the way up for the shot, he got fouled by a Cornell player. He had a chance for a three-point play, but the collision jarred the ball out of his hands.</p><p>It wasn&#8217;t an important moment in the game. Missouri already had the game well in hand. Lyons had already proved himself to be the best basketball player on the floor. He would end up scoring 23 points, and grabbing 10 rebounds, a performance that inspired Cornell coach Steven Donahue to call him: &#8220;As good as it gets in college basketball.&#8221; Lyons also made both free throws.</p><p>Only, in that moment before the free throws, he looked to the sideline and saw Missouri coach Mike Anderson&#8217;s face. Anderson was not happy.</p><p>Anderson mouthed the words: &#8220;Go strong.&#8221;</p><p>And Leo Lyons nodded.</p><p>&#8226; &#8226; &#8226;</p><p>He despised getting yelled at. And Mike Anderson yelled at him constantly, every day, screamed that he was lazy, shouted that he was in the wrong place, howled that he was not going to play unless he started working. No coach had ever yelled at Leo before, not at any of his four high schools, not his freshman year at Missouri, not ever. Maybe they were afraid to yell at him, afraid to lose him. Leo Criswell was a sensitive soul. He had a long body and a light shooting touch and big basketball dreams, really big dreams, but there was something soft about him, too.</p><p>&#8220;People let me do what I want,&#8221; he says plainly.</p><p>Leo lived the sheltered life of a gifted basketball player. He was so talented at Piper High in Kansas City, Kan., that he grew bored and he felt taken for granted. He wanted to be challenged. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to find the most direct path to the NBA. It&#8217;s a familiar story.</p><p>He transferred to Coastal Christian Academy in Virginia Beach, scored 20 points a game, and while he was there, Kentucky swooped in the last week and tried to recruit him. Kentucky! Now, that&#8217;s what he was talking about. He was ready to sign with the famous Wildcats, and he felt like his future would be secure.</p><p>Only then, his mother Gloria Lyons told him, no, he would be signing with Missouri.</p><p>He did not take it well. There were reports &#8212; reports he denied &#8212; that he called recruiting specialist Bob Gibbons crying because he could not go to Kentucky. But even if he did not cry, he did admit to anyone who asked that he was not excited about going to Missouri. His freshman year, with Quin Snyder still coaching, was a nightmare. The team was terrible. Snyder would be fired. The program was a wreck. And Lyons (he had taken his mother&#8217;s maiden name) was on the bench and utterly miserable. He thought about transferring. He thought about quitting, too.</p><p>Then, Anderson stepped in as coach, and he saw a talented young basketball player who desperately needed some discipline. Anderson did not need to be told that Lyons had never been pushed or challenged or yelled at by a coach. He could see it in the way Lyons played.</p><p>&#8220;I always tell players that I yell because I see something in you,&#8221; Anderson said.</p><p>And when asked what he saw in Leo Lyons, Anderson shrugged as if to say: &#8220;Isn&#8217;t it obvious?&#8221; Lyons is 6 feet 9, has long arms and has the basketball grace of a smaller man. He can play inside or outside, he can handle the basketball, he can shoot it from outside, he can be a shot blocker, and when he&#8217;s determined and active, he is too quick and athletic to keep off the offensive glass. Yes, Anderson saw that Lyons could be the complete college basketball package. He could be a program changer.