In mid-June 2007, Portland was still shrouded in rain. The damp air carried the scent of pine and sea wind, and to Xu Ling, used to the blazing Texas sun, this "Rose City" felt especially cold. Wearing a simple tracksuit, he stood at the entrance of the Trail Blazers' practice facility—the Life Center at the Rose Garden—and drew a deep breath.
Portland was the first stop on Xu Ling's workout tour, and the only person accompanying him was Roderick Craig.
Leon Rose believed that as long as Oden performed normally in his workout, the Blazers' No. 1 pick would essentially have no other candidate. For one thing, Oden had been hyped for two full years and hailed as the one player no team could afford to pass on. For another, Portland already had Brandon Roy, a high-potential player at Xu Ling's position. And LaMarcus Aldridge needed a forceful center to help him protect the paint.
By any measure, Oden fit Portland's needs perfectly.
Still, the more perfect a fit Oden was, the more Xu Ling had to come to the workout.
As a top-three favorite, if he skipped Portland's workout, wouldn't that amount to an indirect admission that he was inferior to Oden?
The man who greeted him was Portland's general manager, Kevin Pritchard, a tall, sharp-eyed man in middle age. With him was head coach Nate McMillan, known for running a strict ship; his expression now was just as stern.
"Welcome to Portland, Eli." Pritchard extended a hand, his palm broad and strong. "Are you ready?"
Xu Ling answered concisely, "I'm ready any time, sir."
The workout began with physical testing, all of it conducted strictly according to NBA pre-draft combine standards.
First came height and wingspan. Xu Ling stepped onto the measuring platform and took off his shoes; the official measurement put him at 6 feet 5.75 inches barefoot (about 198 cm). A very ideal number—for a player whose main positions were the two and the three, this was a perfect two-guard height, and it also reached the average line for an NBA small forward.
Next was the wingspan. When the measurer called out 7 feet (212 cm), a murmur ran along the sideline. Xu Ling's wingspan was nearly 14 centimeters longer than his 198 cm height, a figure that even in the NBA would put him among the elite long-armed freaks. For a perimeter player, length means reach, and reach translates into a player's impact on both lateral and vertical defense.
In the NCAA, his fundamental offense and defense—the numbers—had smothered every two-guard and small forward he faced, and it was elite static physical tools that made it possible.
"If he'd come out last year, Eli might have been the clear No. 1 pick," Kevin Pritchard said to the men beside him.
After that, Xu Ling measured a standing reach of 266 centimeters, followed by body fat percentage, vertical leap, sprint, and the rest. Xu Ling's body fat held steady at around 8.9%; some fitness enthusiasts, seeing NBA players' testing numbers, would surely fly into a rage, but everyone who takes part in NBA testing actually has a low body fat percentage—as for why, there's no telling.
Then, in the standing vertical leap test, Xu Ling displayed astonishing explosiveness, easily reaching 37 inches (94 cm); his running vertical leap came in at an even more astonishing 41 inches (104 cm).
Finally came the three-quarter-court sprint and the baseline agility drill. Xu Ling covered three-quarters of the court in 3.03 seconds, and in the agility test he likewise showed the quickness of a 180-centimeter guard.
Xu Ling's dynamic numbers left the Blazers' executives astonished.
Because in the NCAA, Xu Ling had never really been that classic Jordan-style flyer. At the start he'd looked like Ron Harper, then like Ray Allen, but by the time his NCAA career was over, the scouts had reached a unanimous verdict: he was a Kobe Bryant in yellow skin.
Just the day before, Oden had put on a perfect workout on this very floor. His strength was astonishing, his explosiveness almost unheard of, and he had the speed of a guard. The only thing anyone worried about was that he'd been plagued by injuries these past few years.
But that did nothing to shake Portland's resolve to pick him.
They had assumed Xu Ling was just here to go through the motions. Yet once he finished the static and dynamic tests, the atmosphere in the Life Center gym was clearly different.
Because skill was the foundation of Xu Ling's dominance in the NCAA, and then those glaring numbers made everyone discover that this kid's talent was even better than they had imagined.
Amid the crowd's shock, Xu Ling moved on to the skills tests. The first item was spot-up shooting.
Portland's trainer, Geoff Clark, briefly explained the rules of the drill to Xu Ling, and then it began.
Xu Ling caught the ball and shot from five spots: both corners, both wings, and the top of the key. His shooting form was as textbook as it gets, his release clean and crisp, his arc soft. Every so often the gym echoed with the swish of a pure net. In the spot-up shooting from beyond the three-point line, he made 22 of 25.
Nothing about that was surprising.
Shooting was what had let Xu Ling dominate college basketball.
Next was the dribble stop-and-pop jumper. Xu Ling showed mature dribbling and a fine sense of rhythm; whether with a crossover or a behind-the-back dribble, he could adjust his body quickly on the move, and time after time he rose over the obstacles to score. It seemed his jump-shot percentage off the dribble was even higher than his catch-and-shoot percentage.
The last item was the dribble-drive layup, with Geoff Clark putting up a defense and Xu Ling using whatever means each different defense called for to score.
Xu Ling used all kinds of practical dribble moves combined with his explosiveness to get past Clark with ease, putting on a layup show over and over.
Under contact his center of gravity stayed level; amid interference his mentality never shifted. March Madness had ended nearly two months ago, and the world had gradually forgotten the brilliant performances he once brought.
But today, with a workout worthy of being called great, he had shaken Portland's once firm conviction.
Pritchard had played in the NBA in the 1990s. After retiring, he spent a few years as a scout for the San Antonio Spurs, then the Blazers, impressed by his work, poached him to serve as general manager of this rebuilding team.
Watching Xu Ling's workout, he said from the bottom of his heart, "That is the best workout I've ever seen."
He had at least 50 percent certainty.
"And he looks like a future All-Star," Pritchard said, like a fanatic. "He's more likely to become Kobe than Kobe himself was!"
Head coach Nate McMillan said, "But we can't pick him. We have Brandon Roy, and Oden is a player you can't afford to pass on."
Those words snapped Pritchard out of his irrational fervor.
He came to his senses at once.
Right—even if Xu Ling really was the next Kobe, so what?
Nobody could bear the consequences of not taking Oden with the first pick on draft day.
Oden was the consensus, and Portland had Roy. Portland desperately needed to climb out of the mire of the past; they could not blow this draft.
They had spent years clearing the criminals out of the Jail Blazers, and it would take even more time to recover the franchise's reputation. But the framework of the rebuild was already set: Roy and Aldridge were both future All-Stars, and adding Oden on top of that—just as Magic Johnson had once called Jordan's Bulls a team of the 1990s—Portland was a team of the 2010s, and the potential they held was enough to let them dominate the West of the 2010s.
This didn't even require Oden to fully live up to his potential. He didn't need to become a second Bill Russell; he only needed to reach the lowest standard among centers who had been hailed as the next Bill Russell—Patrick Ewing—and that would be enough to settle the West.
When the workout ended, Xu Ling was panting, his jersey soaked through with sweat. Pritchard walked up to him, a rare smile showing on his face.
"You showed me the best workout I've ever seen."
"Better than Oden's?"
Xu Ling took the towel the trainer handed him and casually wiped the sweat from his face, but his eyes went straight to Pritchard.
"Oden," Pritchard began slowly, as if telling an ancient and heavy story, "he is a mountain—solid, majestic, immovable. And you, Eli, you are a surging river—flexible, ever-changing, full of infinite possibility."
That was Portland's reality. They only needed the mountain that could hold everything up. And they had no choice: they had to take the mountain, or the whole castle would be called into question.
"I understand, sir."
Xu Ling had caught Pritchard's implication completely. It was something he'd expected all along.
"In any case, Eli, your performance was flawless," Pritchard said at last, trying to end the conversation with official words. "You have a bright future ahead of you."
Xu Ling didn't answer. He only gave a light wave and walked off with Craig into the rain over Portland.
Pritchard stood where he was, watching that figure gradually blur. Rain lashed the glass windows, twisting Xu Ling's shape into a hazy silhouette until it vanished completely. He suddenly thought of that summer twenty-three years ago—1984, when Portland, in pursuit of a great center, gave up Michael Jordan and chose Sam Bowie.
Twenty-three years later, would the world talk about this year's draft in the same tone?
"Oden, Oden! All these people can talk about is Oden! That guy was beaten by us!" Craig said indignantly. "They're going to regret it."
"Look forward, Rock." Xu Ling smiled faintly. "Maybe ten years from now people will say, 'Portland had a chance to take Eli back then'—that doesn't sound bad, does it?"
Chapter 49