On media day, the venue was buzzing with noise and flashbulbs flashed without pause. Reporters from every outlet clutched their gear, packing the interview area until not a soul could squeeze through. And yet the Memphis Grizzlies' corner carried a subtle atmosphere. The players weren't sitting together amicably; instead they had quietly split into several zones with clear boundaries, as if an invisible wall had silently projected the locker-room factions out here.
Head coach Marc Iavaroni stood a little ways off, his gaze sweeping the whole floor before finally landing at the center of the storm—Xu Ling.
This young third overall pick was ringed round on all sides by a huge crowd of reporters, layered three deep, among them a great many media teams from China, their microphones, voice recorders, and cameras practically shoved into his face.
Xu Ling fielded it all with fluent English and Mandarin, his manner composed, as if he had long since grown used to this level of attention.
Iavaroni looked out at that dark, dense mass of people and the ceaselessly flashing lights, his expression drifting for an instant. The scene drew him back irresistibly to the 1970s and '80s, to his own playing days with the Philadelphia 76ers.
Back then, "Dr. J," Julius Erving, had been tightly encircled in just this way by a tide of media and fanaticism. He was the face of the entire league, the eternal focus of the spotlight—wherever he went became the center of the stage.
The Grizzlies at this moment were sunk in the lowest trough since the franchise was founded. The owner was desperate to sell the team but had never found a buyer—after all, in the eyes of Wall Street, an NBA franchise had always been a blue-chip stock worth holding. Even though the league had suffered one piece of bad news after another in recent years and the overall economy had stalled, the commercial value of professional sports was never something built in a single day. This decade had gone badly—but what about the next? Hold long enough, and a team's appreciation was all but inevitable.
And yet even so, the Grizzlies remained hard to unload—which shows just how dire this team's situation was.
But what if a figure as dazzling as Julius Erving truly did join the team?
Iavaroni reined in his churning thoughts and walked toward the group of reporters waiting to interview him.
As noted earlier, players often live inside their own "bubbles." An NBA team that looks united is in truth mostly a loose collective, and media day is precisely the occasion that best lays this bare.
Aside from the superstars, most players only talk to the reporters they know. By revealing their own thoughts, and even some team inside information that isn't meant to be public, they trade for support within the press circle. That is exactly why the public discourse is flooded with items fed out by "a team insider who asked not to be named."
Xu Ling was ringed round by reporters from China and abroad, packed in so tight not a drop could seep through; off to another side, Pau Gasol was pouring out his frustration to the Spanish media, then repeating it to an American reporter he knew well: "I don't see a future for myself in Memphis."
Not far off, the veteran Mike Miller was also collared by reporters asking about the team's atmosphere. He flashed a professional smile and firmly denied the rumors of friction between Xu Ling and Gay: "They're both fiercely competitive young men. That kind of talk is way overblown."
And in a corner, the new addition Darko Miličić faced a few gossip reporters' pestering with a look of helplessness. "I'm not a VIP at any nightclub on Beale Street,"
the Serbian said, shaking his head in denial, his manner even rather earnest. "Right now I only care about how to grab rebounds and play good defense."
On the other side, Jarrius Jackson and Kyle Lowry seemed far more upbeat. Facing the cameras, Jackson made no attempt to hide his anticipation for the new season: "We're loaded with talent, and hungrier still. I can't wait to get out there and run with these guys!"
And when asked about the rumors that Xu Ling might play point guard, a sly, expectant smile spread across Lowry's face: "If Eli really is running the one, then I'd better get ready to sprint the fast break ahead of time. Trust me, that'll make the game a whole lot simpler."
Everything looked normal; everything seemed calm. It was like a standard media day: laughter and chatter, players saying smooth platitudes they didn't necessarily believe themselves, just waiting for the full-team photo to be taken amid all the harmony so the whole thing could be declared a flawless success.
But things did not go as planned.
Rudy Gay was hardly lacking for media attention. If he'd wanted it, a large crowd of reporters would have gathered around him just the same. But today he turned down every outlet he didn't know, taking questions only from a few reporters he trusted.
Call it less an interview than a long-planned statement.
Remember how Jimmy Butler recited the classic "Who's the Most Talented Player?" during an interview with that gorgeous MILF reporter? First he led the third unit to blow out the starters, and then he pulled off that dramatic scene. Only years later did people learn that the reporter had been quickly cut loose and let go after privately mocking a colleague for "winning an award because of skin color," and the details of how the two of them had jointly staged that whole show came out along with it.
Compared with Butler, Gay's approach seemed crude and impetuous. He hadn't fired himself up with on-court play and then twisted the knife with words; in fact, he had been utterly defeated in the intrasquad scrimmage against Xu Ling.
But that didn't stop him from opening fire on the SSOL system Marc Iavaroni championed: "If I had to sum it up in one word, it'd be chaos. Honestly, none of us feels comfortable in that system."
Of course he couldn't help bringing up Xu Ling, and though he never called him by name, everyone knew exactly who he meant: "'One for all, all for one' was supposed to be our creed, but now everything has changed. Some people are born with privileges and some aren't. I can't accept that kind of double standard."
Finally, striking the pose of a man worried about the team's future, he summed it up: "We're supposed to be a team, not a pack of lone wolves each fighting on his own. I regret that we seem to be heading for failure, and I'm powerless to change a single thing."
Just as Gay's remarks were spreading rapidly through the reporters he knew, Lisa, the Adidas PR staffer assigned to media day, sharply caught the negative lean in them. Without betraying anything on her face, she immediately moved to the outer edge of the interview area where Xu Ling was, made contact with Xu Ling's personal team through a discreet hand signal, and swiftly relayed the message: "Rudy is complaining to reporters about everything."
At the news, Xu Ling's eyes went cold in an instant, but his surface stayed unruffled. He gave the reporter in front of him an easy smile and said mildly, "Next question."
Gay had confided his thoughts to only a few trusted reporters, but he understood well the way this industry spreads information—the sources are at once closed off and invisibly shared. Except for operations that require absolute secrecy, like those at the trade deadline, reporters generally don't chase exclusives; they're more inclined to push the information out and let it circulate, because only by letting it ferment can a truly big story be brewed.
Sure enough, the content of Gay's interview spread like a virus. When Marc Iavaroni appeared at a group interview together with Xu Ling and Mike Miller, ESPN reporter Rick Humphrey couldn't wait to lob out the pointed question: "Eli, Rudy Gay says he's very confused by the team's new system, and he hinted that there's a privileged player on the roster who's upsetting the team's competitive balance. What's your response to that?"
The moment the words landed, the atmosphere in the room cooled sharply.
Iavaroni's face darkened, and he was about to speak up and answer on Xu Ling's behalf—but in the end, this was a question directed at Xu Ling.
Xu Ling glanced at his head coach and gave him a steady look that said, "Relax, leave it to me."
Iavaroni's worry wasn't unfounded—Xu Ling had never, after all, been through such a public backstabbing. To face a teammate's accusations head-on in front of the media, how many could truly handle it with ease?
"He's confused? I can understand that." Xu Ling spoke, his tone calm yet carrying an unmistakable sense of measure—words that surprised not only the reporters but made even Iavaroni's eyes widen. "Whoever you are, going from the team's first option to suddenly the third or even the fourth does take a hard mental adjustment."
Xu Ling paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over all the reporters, and continued clearly: "But the NBA's rules are simple. Everything is decided by your performance on the court. Your role depends on what you can contribute to winning, not on what you want for yourself."
"As for privilege." Xu Ling's voice rose slightly. "I don't think the trust earned by a man who, from the very first day of training camp, won his matchups face-to-face on both ends of the floor counts as privilege."
"If earning the trust of your coach and teammates through sheer ability is what you call privilege, then I hope every player in the league gets to have that kind of privilege."
Xu Ling looked at the reporter who had asked, his eyes sharp and candid: "And finally, if he has any questions about the tactics, my locker is right next to his. He can walk over anytime and ask me to my face like a man, instead of hiding behind the media to cry and complain like a kid who thinks he's been bullied, begging for support from the outside. Sometimes I even want to ask: how hard is it, really, for an adult to face reality squarely?"
The scene instantly erupted into an uproar.
The reporters had expected to hear some smooth platitudes meant to paper things over—surely nothing as blunt as what Gay had said—yet Xu Ling seemed never to have had a shred of media training, laying bare everything in his heart without the slightest cover, every sentence cutting off any room to maneuver.
From this moment on, the Grizzlies' media day utterly outdid those of the other 29 teams in the league. Kobe's trade soap opera? Boston's Big Three? The Suns', Spurs', and Mavericks' championship declarations? Out of the way, all of you!
Chapter 63