In July, the NBA entered the peak season for front-office maneuvering.
This summer was bound to be anything but quiet.
First came the fallout from draft night. After yet another loss in this year's NBA draft lottery and their failure to select Xu Ling in the draft, these setbacks made Danny Ainge realize that the Celtics could only dream of turning things around through the draft—they had to take the initiative and do something.
So he handed over Mike Conley's draft rights and got Ray Allen back from the SuperSonics.
That deal opened the curtain on the height of summer.
The Knicks, having likewise failed in their pursuit of Xu Ling, could only settle for the next best thing—bolstering the team's immediate impact. Isiah Thomas set his sights on the Trail Blazers, who wanted to unload Zach Randolph, and the two sides came together at once.
Bill Simmons joked: "I've thought it over and over, and the only reason New York could acquire Zach Randolph so smoothly is that Portland decided that rather than let Z-Bo lead Oden forward, it would be better to just keep the two of them from ever meeting. That may be the best thing Portland could do for Oden."
Either way, Thomas got his way. Randolph was headed to New York, where he and Eddy Curry would form the widest frontcourt tandem in the league.
Then came a string of baffling team-breaking moves.
The "We Believe" Warriors decided to ship out their starting shooting guard, Jason Richardson. Not long ago they had just completed an eight-seed upset over the Mavericks in the playoffs; now they were voluntarily dismantling their starting lineup. Aside from saving money, it was hard to find any other reasonable explanation.
When it came to saving money, though, the Warriors could only be the Suns' little brother.
If you insisted on finding the logic behind the Warriors blowing up their team, you could find it—after all, they'd been bad for decades. Could they really judge that this team had a high ceiling based on just a few months of chemistry?
The Suns were completely different. Ever since Nash joined, they had gone toe-to-toe with the Spurs. Though they lost again and again, their competitiveness was beyond doubt—yet it was precisely such a team that ran into an owner as tightfisted as they come.
To create what they called "healthy finances," they shipped veteran Kurt Thomas along with two future first-round picks to Seattle, a move that would save eight million dollars in salary plus eight million in luxury tax. That in itself was nothing special—dumping a dead contract is something every strong team does. But with the Suns, you could hardly expect them to do anything useful with the surplus cap space afterward.
Just look back. In the summer of 2005, Nash had just finished his first season with the Suns, and the "Seven Seconds or Less" Suns were at their zenith. But the team's promising young star Joe Johnson's rookie contract expired, and Suns owner Sarver led the lowballing, pushing until Johnson snapped and publicly stated he didn't want to play for the Suns, telling them not to match outside offers. And in the end they really didn't match—they sent him to Atlanta, getting back Boris Diaw and two future first-rounders.
In 2006, for financial reasons, they traded the 21st pick in the first round (Rajon Rondo) together with Brian Grant's contract to Boston (trimming 1.9 million dollars from the 2007 payroll), in exchange for Cleveland's 2007 first-round pick. To understand just how infuriating this move was, you'd have to look further back—to 2004, when, for yet another financial reason, the Suns didn't want to use the No. 7 pick in their hands to select a player (Luol Deng), so they traded it away.
So if you really did the math, the Suns had effectively downgraded from "Luol Deng or Andre Iguodala in 2004" to "Rajon Rondo in 2006," and further down to "selling the 27th pick for cash in 2007."
Hmm, what was this about selling the 27th pick for cash in 2007? The Suns first used that pick to select the Spanish prodigy Rudy Fernandez, then, for no reason at all, handed Fernandez's draft rights to the Trail Blazers for cash. They didn't play the "financial issues" card when they did this, because that would have been an insult to fans' intelligence—Rudy Fernandez wouldn't set foot in the NBA until 2008 at the earliest.
Yep, that's the Suns for you. You could see it coming—this was the low bar set by a trash owner, but it was by no means the last time he'd disgust the fans.
Finally, there was the trade request from Kobe that had the whole NBA fanbase hooked—it made for quite the spectacle. At first Kobe let it be known publicly that if the Lakers didn't bring Jerry West back to steer the ship, he'd demand a trade. A few days later, Kobe took back those words, and then a few days after that, through his own mouthpiece, formally declared: "I want to be traded."
Phil Jackson went to talk to him. Kobe's feelings were complicated, and he began to waver. But the Lakers did nothing in free agency, and Kobe's resolve to be traded only hardened; he reaffirmed his position once more. The more Kobe talked about wanting a trade, the more the likelihood of him actually being traded plummeted.
So what about Xu Ling's Grizzlies? What did they do during this time?
Only four things. First, they agreed to a veteran's minimum contract with Eddie Jones, and used a three-year, twenty-one-million-dollar mid-level exception to sign Darko Milicic. Then they officially announced Marc Iavaroni as the team's new head coach. Finally, Jerry West asked Xu Ling for his opinion on Jarrius Jackson, captain of the Texas Tech Red Raiders.
Xu Ling's reaction to the other three matters was indifferent, but he gave his own captain a glowing review—which was only natural. He knew Jackson wanted to find an opportunity in the NBA, but for an older, not-especially-NBA-approved immediate-impact player to get an NBA chance, unless he had connections, he'd have to prepare to grind it out in the NBA Development League for years. Compared to earning anywhere from several hundred thousand to over a million US bucks a year directly overseas, the economic loss and uncertain future here were enough to plunge anyone into a painful dilemma.
Whatever role Xu Ling's opinion played, in any case, not long afterward the Grizzlies announced they had agreed to a short-term contract with Jarrius Jackson, who would play for the Grizzlies in the Summer League.
Xu Ling, meanwhile, had Roderick Craig send a welcome text to everyone, then went to prepare for the Las Vegas Summer League.
This year's Vegas Summer League welcomed a special team: the Chinese men's national basketball team. To prepare for next year's Olympics in the capital, the national team had been sharpening its weapons and readying its warhorses these past few years—they wouldn't even bother with boring tournaments like the Asian Championship, sending the second team to those, while the first team roamed the world seeking strong opponents to sharpen against.
The Grizzlies' first-round opponent was none other than the Chinese team. Xu Ling led the charge, taking 17 shots for the whole game, scoring 28 points and 6 rebounds, and easily leading the team past the national side.
"I keep hearing you all say China's goal is to secure a top-eight finish and fight for sixth. But if Eli could join this team, China could contend for a medal."
After the game, national team head coach Jonas poured out his grievances to the domestic reporters. But this was a question the reporters simply couldn't answer.
The main obstacle to Xu Ling playing for the national team was the issue of association recognition. FIBA determines player eligibility according to the basketball associations of each region; an association doesn't represent nationality, and a single country can have multiple basketball associations. Xu Ling was born in mainland China, but as a child moved with his family to Hong Kong, China, where he began to make a name for himself in the special administrative region's school basketball scene. This created a complicated question: did he belong to the mainland China basketball association or the Hong Kong, China basketball association?
Xu Ling himself was of course willing to represent the mainland, but FIBA held the authority to decide the matter. So there was still a great deal of work for the basketball association to do.
To keep his eligibility status ambiguous, Xu Ling, before the Summer League began, decisively declined Hong Kong's call-up to play in the Asian Championship. And, to be fair, there was indeed an insurmountable gulf between Xu Ling's ability and the overall level of the Hong Kong team. Frankly, the Hong Kong team's strength was probably not even a match for the top programs in the Chinese University Basketball Association. What was the point of playing for a team like that? Was it just to experience the "joy" of being furiously double-teamed every single second?
So Xu Ling not only clearly refused, but stated outright that he would only represent mainland China in international competition; if FIBA didn't approve his eligibility, then throughout his basketball career he would always keep his individual development at the core. He knew better than anyone that if the overall gap in strength with the world was too great, a single person's efforts ultimately couldn't change anything.
After that, Xu Ling led the Grizzlies on a surging run, cutting their way into the final of the Las Vegas Summer League, facing the New York Knicks, who boasted several NBA rotation players.
In the final, the Knicks deployed a "double-team as soon as he touches the ball" defensive strategy against Xu Ling. However, they underestimated Xu Ling's passing vision and the Grizzlies' outside firepower. His teammates, left completely wide open, showed no mercy, raining down three-pointers like arrows. The Knicks' too-clever-by-half defensive strategy ended up shooting them in the foot.
And when they were forced to extend their defense and ease the pressure on Xu Ling, he immediately switched modes and went into unstoppable isolation. Driving inside and shooting from outside, changing pace at will, he single-handedly poured in 25 points, not only leading the team to lift the Las Vegas Summer League championship trophy, but also being named the Las Vegas Summer League MVP without a shadow of a doubt.
The Grizzlies' new head coach, Marc Iavaroni, was also on hand. Iavaroni was extremely satisfied with Xu Ling's performance: "Eli is the kind of player you can tell at a glance knows how to play, and knows how to lead a team forward."
Then he also pointed out where he fell short. "The only thing Eli needs to strengthen is his habit of playing at a slow pace."
At this point, no one knew exactly what Iavaroni meant by "slow pace." Everyone in Las Vegas was swept up in Xu Ling's performance.
The fans had only one complaint: after tonight, the next time they'd get to see Xu Ling play might not be until the NBA preseason in October.
That night, a fanatical Texas Tech fan left a message on Xu Ling's Twitter: "Eli, I'm begging you! Play for Hong Kong in the Asian Championship! Without your games, this summer is unbearable!"
Xu Ling replied: "Thanks for your support! But this summer, my job is to make myself stronger in the gym and get 100 percent ready for Memphis. The Asian Championship is a great stage, but my next battlefield is the NBA. See you in October—I promise I'll make the wait worth it."
Chapter 56