The streetlights outside Madison Square Garden shone brightly, and inside the Green Room it was even more crowded and electric. Team executives and reporters hurried back and forth, while one young basketball prodigy after another—dressed in sharp suits of various colors—sat nervously beside their families.
NBA President Adam Silver, his polished forehead gleaming, stepped up to the podium in a custom-tailored suit, smiling warmly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the 2014 NBA Draft is now underway!"
Chen Yilun sat in the Kings' private conference room with the rest of the management team, two cameras aimed squarely at him. In his past life, he'd watched plenty of drafts, but this was the first time he'd seen the behind-the-scenes setup—each team had its own private room for strategy discussions.
Coach Michael Malone seemed a bit distracted. In his view, even without those two rookies, the Kings already had a decent level of competitiveness. At least this year he wouldn't be completely in the dark like last season.
Be content with what you have—what more could you ask for?
Chen Yilun, however, was so tense that sweat had soaked through the back of his shirt. This was his first draft—he couldn't afford to embarrass himself in front of the team's top brass.
Before the draft started, he slipped out to the restroom to catch his breath. With his mind racing, he walked almost on autopilot. He'd run this moment a thousand times in his head, but now, standing here for real, all those rehearsals were gone.
As he reached the restroom door, he ran into Buford. It had been two months since they last met. Buford smiled in greeting, and without a word, they walked inside together.
"Yilun, the draft atmosphere get to you?" Buford teased.
"Old fox, cut it out. My head's about to explode," Chen Yilun replied, forcing a smile worse than a grimace.
"Relax," Buford chuckled. "You've got it easy. At my first draft, I was such a wreck I hit the bathroom three times in ten minutes. Pop was so annoyed he called me and asked if I was planning to draft a toilet to take home."
Hearing Buford share his own embarrassing story eased some of Chen Yilun's tension.
"Don't worry—you're only 27. You've got a long career ahead of you, and there's a draft every year. Remember, kid—nobody gets it right every time, and nobody stays unlucky forever. Just stick to your plan."
Buford gave his shoulder a pat, then walked out humming a tune.
Those words snapped Chen Yilun out of it. He'd prepared as much as humanly possible; with his future knowledge, what was there to fear?
Back in the Kings' conference room, he rejoined the discussion with renewed confidence. After a short meeting with management, he made a call.
...
On stage, Adam Silver's assistant handed him a slip of paper. Silver read it carefully, took a deep breath, and stepped to the microphone.
"With the first pick in the 2014 NBA Draft, the Cleveland Cavaliers select Andrew Wiggins from the University of Kansas!"
The Green Room erupted in applause. Wiggins, the undisputed top pick, flashed a charming smile as he accepted the Cleveland cap from staff and shook Silver's hand.
"With the second pick, the Milwaukee Bucks select Jabari Parker from Duke University!"
"With the third pick, the Philadelphia 76ers select Joel Embiid from the University of Kansas!"
Familiar NCAA names rolled off Silver's tongue, and each time, a player would rise to greet the cheering crowd.
That's the magic of the draft—overnight, a college kid becomes the center of the basketball world.
Until the seventh pick, every selection went exactly as Chen Yilun had predicted. Malone glanced at him in surprise. They had gone over the draft order together earlier, and so far, Chen hadn't missed once. This kid really knew his stuff.
Malone's opinion of him rose even higher. Then came the eighth pick. Silver read from the Nuggets' card:
"With the eighth pick in the 2014 NBA Draft, the Denver Nuggets select Noah Vonleh from Indiana University!"
As expected—different!
Chen Yilun's fist tightened. The butterfly effect of his earlier trade had appeared. The original eighth pick, Stauskas, had now become Vonleh.
If LaVine went before the Kings' turn, his whole plan would be thrown off. He'd have to settle for TJ Warren—14th in the original timeline—or work another trade to get LaVine back. Either way, it would raise costs.
The Nuggets had also liked Stauskas—after all, he was still the pride of the University of Michigan. Chen's future knowledge told him otherwise, but that didn't mean other teams agreed.
However, taking Mozgov in the trade had left the Nuggets thin in the frontcourt. With Randle snatched by the Lakers at No. 7, they had no hesitation in taking Vonleh.
At ninth, the Hornets—missing out on Vonleh—went all-in on Nurkic. Fans slammed the move at first, but a few seasons later, it proved to be a move that aged very well.
At tenth, after some deliberation, the 76ers picked Stauskas to boost their perimeter shooting.
When Silver announced Stauskas' name, Chen Yilun clenched his fist and pumped it in the air—he'd guessed right. Without hesitation, he locked in LaVine.
"With the 11th pick in the 2014 NBA Draft, the Sacramento Kings select Zach LaVine from UCLA!"
With that announcement, it was done. The Slam Dunk Contest champion was his!
The rest of the first round went smoothly, ending with the Spurs taking Kyle Anderson at No. 30.
Silver wiped the sweat from his forehead and stepped down with a smile. The second-round picks would be announced by the NBA's vice president.
After two picks, the vice president returned to the podium:
"We have a trade to announce. The Sacramento Kings have traded Marcus Thornton and the 41st pick to the Cleveland Cavaliers in exchange for an unprotected 2016 first-round pick and this year's 33rd pick."
With the first round over, the Green Room was far less crowded. Scattered murmurs—and curses—broke out.
Most of the anger came from Eastern Conference fans. "The Kings are helping the enemy!" a Knicks fan shouted. The Cavaliers were already elite with the Big Three, and now they'd landed Thornton for almost nothing, further weakening the East's competitiveness.
Ignoring the protests, the vice president continued:
"With the 33rd pick in the 2014 NBA Draft, the Sacramento Kings select Nikola Jokić, center, from Serbia!"
In the Kings' conference room, Vlade Divac looked at Chen Yilun in puzzlement. Noticing his gaze, Chen said,
"Vlade, I think Jokić has huge potential. He still needs a lot of development, but if you have time, I hope you can mentor him."
Jokić and Divac were both Serbian—fellow countrymen. As one of the greatest centers in Yugoslavian basketball history, with a style similar to Jokić's, Chen had no doubt he could thrive with the Kings.
And the coach who would one day shape Jokić's rise? None other than Michael Malone—now sitting across from him idly drumming his fingers on the table.
Hearing Chen's words, Divac's expression softened. "Of course. Serbian basketball has never been inferior to anyone's."
Divac took Jokić's selection as a friendly gesture—choosing a fellow Serb to ease his regret at not drafting Stauskas. But when he later realized just how wrong he'd been, Jokić was already looking far beyond him.
---
For more chapters and to support the series, follow me on Ptreon (40+ Chapters Ahead!)
p-atreon.com/GhostParser (remove the dash in "p-atreon" to access the site)