The Last Stop

Xu Ling's second workout stop was Seattle. This time, Leon Rose accompanied him in person. The reason Rose attached so much importance to this workout was that, with the Trail Blazers having made clear they would pick Oden, Xu Ling's draft position was in fact not hard to predict. It would be either the No. 2 pick or the No. 3 pick. Still, among the teams holding a top-five pick this year, the only one with a genuine, pressing need for a two-guard or small forward was the Boston Celtics, who held the No. 5 pick. Xu Ling's style of play would not clash with Paul Pierce. But the Trail Blazers had Brandon Roy, the SuperSonics had Ray Allen, and the Hawks, holding the No. 4 pick, had Joe Johnson and Josh Smith—their frontcourt was already crowded. The Grizzlies had traded Battier for Rudy Gay last year and were pouring resources into developing him. Seen this way, Xu Ling didn't seem to be a must-draft player for any of them. But that was exactly the problem. There were reasons these teams had fallen into the lottery. The SuperSonics were beset with troubles both internal and external, and the owner was preparing to move the team away. Though Ray Allen had professed his loyalty, what use was an over-thirty All-Star two-guard who had undergone surgery on both legs to a rebuilding team perpetually ready to flee Seattle? The Grizzlies' situation was entirely different. They had won the No. 3 pick in the lottery, which put them in a peculiar position. A few years earlier they had been a steady 50-win team in the West, yet they could hardly win a single game in the playoffs. Pau Gasol's leadership was being questioned, and the veteran coach Hubie Brown, having gotten his fill of coaching, went back to being a commentator. Although the team had retained its core veterans, its results had plummeted, and it basically looked poised to tear everything down and rebuild completely. And so, holding the No. 3 pick, they had every means to select the player they believed had the highest talent, whether to compete with Rudy Gay or to groom as a future cornerstone. Xu Ling was one of their primary targets. This was why Leon Rose considered the Seattle workout so crucial: if the SuperSonics didn't select Xu Ling, then it was almost certain the Memphis Grizzlies would take him at No. 3. Sam Presti was very friendly. Xu Ling's first impression of him was that he was young—perhaps a little too young. But as a widely acknowledged boy-genius GM, Presti had been highly valued by Popovich during his time with the Spurs. They had always told Presti that in a few years, once R.C. Buford retired, the GM position would be his for the taking. Yet like the countless people poached from the Spurs, the moment Presti got the chance to be the top man elsewhere, he would leave San Antonio without a trace of regret. Now, the SuperSonics had reached a crossroads in their franchise history. Where the future would lead was not Presti's concern; the only thing he had to do was make the most of this draft, which could brook no mistakes. This year there were three super-elite talents. The SuperSonics held the No. 2 pick, and with Oden already locked in at No. 1, they were effectively choosing between Durant and Xu Ling. Durant had completed an outstanding workout here yesterday, and he basically matched expectations—the physical attributes of Kevin Garnett and the skill set of Tracy McGrady. Xu Ling went through the same workout program as he had in Portland. His dynamic athleticism was astonishing. The biggest difference was that his skill demonstration today was even better. From beyond the NBA-standard three-point line, he made every single shot. "Sam, I really don't think KD is better than Eli," Rose said from the side. "Have you ever seen anyone shoot with this kind of accuracy in a workout?" Presti answered honestly. "No." "And KD yesterday?" "He was excellent, but still not as good as Eli today," Presti said. "Eli is every bit as good as he looked to me in person." Ray Allen had become an obvious complicating factor. Xu Ling gave the impression of being extremely mature and technically complete, almost a plug-and-play super rookie. But the talent Durant displayed hinted at a possibility—that he might grow into one of the greatest players in history. Though Durant's immediate impact was currently inferior to Xu Ling's, the ceiling of his future was unimaginable. Yet Durant's potential was built largely on the natural advantages his height and wingspan afforded him; the potential Xu Ling had displayed equally convinced people that he had the ability to become the next Kobe. If you were optimistic enough, you could even look forward to him surpassing Kobe. However... in the world of the draft, talent was still the only universal currency. Xu Ling had completed a second workout to resounding applause, yet he still had not received any explicit draft promise. "I'm guessing," Xu Ling said on the way back to the hotel, "they still want Kevin Durant more?" Leon Rose said helplessly, "Maybe, but I think Ray Allen's presence is the more crucial factor." No—there was actually a more obvious reason: Durant clearly commanded greater buzz. Xu Ling's glorious NCAA championship halo was gradually fading, and everyone seemed to have cooled off. They had begun doing the math with pure talent. The SuperSonics wanted Durant simply because his talent was higher—it was that simple. Two outstanding performances in a row without earning any recognition had begun to affect Xu Ling's mood. "Is the next stop Memphis?" "Yes." "Good," Xu Ling said. "Looks like that's where I'm actually meant to go." Leon Rose drove in silence, his eyes sweeping over Seattle's slightly gloomy sky outside the window. His fingers tapped the steering wheel unconsciously as he mulled over the dissatisfaction in Xu Ling's words. He had guided many young people and knew well how sensitive such moments could be. A surge of protectiveness—or perhaps a more pragmatic professional instinct—gained the upper hand within him. "You know what, Eli?" Rose began slowly, his tone no longer the smooth polish of an agent but more like that of an ally. "Maybe we've been working in the wrong direction all along." Xu Ling turned to look at him, somewhat surprised. Rose went on. "We've been trying to prove to them how 'good' you are, how 'mature,' how 'plug-and-play,' hoping to move Portland and Seattle. But we've overlooked the most important thing—in their eyes, 'good' is cheap; 'ceiling' is priceless. Kevin Pritchard and Sam Presti don't want the best player. They need a 'savior' who can rescue the franchise." "So?" Xu Ling asked. "Even though it's not the best destination, I'm confident that as long as you perform normally in tomorrow's workout, we won't need to go to Atlanta for a workout." In Rose's view, compared with the Grizzlies, the Hawks were a worse destination. Setting aside the low-probability event of Xu Ling dropping to the No. 4 pick, just look at the Hawks' roster: at Xu Ling's position they had the young All-Star Joe Johnson, on the wing they had Josh Smith, plus Marvin Williams, the No. 2 pick they had selected last year. This team's frontcourt was simply too crowded, which was not conducive to a rookie's development. Rose decided to make a spur-of-the-moment decision to set Xu Ling's mind at ease. "We're not going to Atlanta for a workout. Wherever we go, it has to be a place that truly needs you and is willing to give you the ball and a future. A place like Memphis." The next day, word quickly spread that Xu Ling's camp had unilaterally canceled the workout with the Hawks. "Did Eli get a draft promise from the SuperSonics?" "Think bigger—why couldn't it be the Trail Blazers?" Someone called the Trail Blazers' general manager Kevin Pritchard about this, but Pritchard replied tactfully, "The kid we like most right now is still Greg Oden." Sam Presti declined to comment on the matter. But when Xu Ling's camp announced that the Memphis Grizzlies workout would proceed as scheduled, the "truth" came out. Well then—so it turned out Eli Xu just didn't like Atlanta. But if you didn't like it, why schedule this workout in the first place? Disgruntled Hawks fans flocked to Xu Ling's Twitter to hurl insults. But Xu Ling had already set off for Memphis. Xu Ling's knowledge of the city of Memphis was very limited, and his knowledge of the Grizzlies was likewise minimal. For before his transmigration, he hadn't particularly liked Ja Morant, and moreover, for a Chinese fan like him, the only thing the Grizzlies were widely known for in the basketball world was probably using a late second-round pick in 2016 to draft a fast-asleep Wang Zhelin. As it turned out, that was the Grizzlies' only connection to Wang Zhelin. Wang Zhelin had no interest in playing in the NBA, and the Grizzlies had no intention of wasting time on him either. So Wang Zhelin's draft rights were traded again and again, and by the time his reputation lay in tatters at the FIBA World Cup, Wang Zhelin still retained the ironic status of a "celebrated veteran" on the books of numerous NBA teams. So, in the end, that draft pick accomplished nothing at all—its only function was to have selected a player. Xu Ling and his group flew to Memphis, then rode in a car for a while before arriving at the Grizzlies' training center. The car had just come to a stop, and before Xu Ling and Rose had fully walked through the entrance, a figure emerged from inside. The man wore everyday clothes, stood tall and straight, and wore a stern expression—it was none other than the Grizzlies' general manager, the "Logo Man" himself, Jerry West. Yet West's face showed none of the warmth one would expect when welcoming a top draft prospect. His appearance was less a welcome than a cool inspection. "Nice to meet you," West said with a smile that never reached his eyes. "Welcome to Memphis." He extended his hand and shook hands with the two of them in turn, his movements crisp and efficient, releasing almost the instant they touched, as if merely completing a fixed procedure. "Was the trip smooth?" Xu Ling had been through countless greetings and introductions, but never once had he felt so clearly that the other party was merely being perfunctory with him. "It was fine," Xu Ling replied. "Good," West said. "Get yourselves ready—our workout will begin shortly." This utterly unenthusiastic welcome created an intangible pressure. It carried no hostility, yet it made one feel more estranged than outright coldness would have. Then West suddenly stopped and turned back to ask, "Eli, you should be quite familiar with the workout procedure by now." "This is my last workout," Xu Ling said. "It'd be hard not to be familiar with it." "Then would you mind if we added a few special items?" "Depends on what they are." "We happen to have a player on-site today." West's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept quickly over Xu Ling; that gaze didn't seem to be looking at a young man full of potential, but rather appraising an item's quality and flaws. "If you don't object, after the technical segment concludes, I'd like to arrange a live scrimmage." "I don't mind." Xu Ling smiled. "I'm tired of turning in perfect answers to empty air."