Zhong Muchen blinked, unsure if he was dreaming or if this mess of bed hair and sleepy eyes in front of him was Lin Yi. Dude looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and crash-landed on the couch.
This was Lin Yi? The same Lin Yi who'd been meticulously planning his draft journey like some kind of basketball strategist?
"Presti's sure is impatient," Lin Yi said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes as he listened to Zhong Muchen's update.
"Yeah, I thought the same. But the man does seem interested in you.," Zhong Muchen nodded.
Lin Yi regaining some of his alertness. "Yeah, I know and if I were some desperate kid chasing dreams, maybe I'd have jumped on it," he muttered. "But come on. Presti's talking like they're doing me a favor?"
Get real.
Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook were still learning how to dribble without tripping over themselves. Did the Thunder seriously think those two were ready to go toe-to-toe with the Celtics' Big Three? Or with Kobe and Gasol in LA?
Let's be honest—the Thunder were planning to tank. That was their whole strategy. Then they saw a little flash of potential in Lin Yi and figured, "Hey, maybe we can tank smart."
Presti was just trying to polish a turd and call it poetry.
The NBA had always had this unwritten rule—bad teams got a chance to bounce back, a way to keep fans hopeful and owners rich. Every year teams like the Kings stunk it up, but every year there was hope. Just enough to sell tickets.
The top lottery picks were golden tickets. But then, Presti didn't want to pay for his.
"Let me guess," Lin Yi stretched, "he wants every other team to skip trying me out so I slide down the draft board... right into his lap?"
"Pretty much," Zhong Muchen sighed. "If nobody else looks at you, and you fall in the rankings, it's a steal for the Thunder."
Lin Yi shook his head. "Classic scavenger move."
"If he really wanted you, though," Zhong Muchen asked, "shouldn't he be willing to trade up for you? Isn't that better for you too? A team that actually wants to build around you?"
"Zhong," Lin Yi grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Once I declared for the draft, I stopped being a person. I'm a product now. And if I'm a product, we're gonna sell me at a premium."
He continued, "Think about it. Why do people always chase things they can't have? Why do some folks buy luxury stuff instead of what's practical? It's all about perceived value."
"If I'm really going to end up with the Thunder," Lin Yi said, "they better bleed for it. If they don't have the No. 1 pick, they better trade up and pay a price."
Zhongmuchen nodded slowly. "Because if they don't pay now, they won't value you later?"
"Exactly," Lin Yi said. "This ain't a charity. This is the NBA. You know how many high draft picks flamed out because teams never invested in them properly?"
Darko Milicic came to mind.
Lin Yi wasn't about to be another cautionary tale.
"Big picture? Please. I'm not trying to save a franchise. I'm trying to make sure they value me. That starts now."
"So what do we do?" Zhongmuchen asked.
"Simple," Lin Yi smirked. "From now on, think of me as a high-end product. No discounts. No handouts. No leaks. We take every team meeting seriously, and we keep my value rising."
March Madness was around the corner, and Lin Yi knew he only needed three good games to level up again. If the Wildcats made it past the Sweet Sixteen to the Elite Eight, he'd be a whole new beast by then.
After giving Zhong Muchen the rundown, Lin Yi flopped back into bed. As Zhong Muchen was leaving the room, he heard Lin exasperated shout something behind him.
"Stephen, man, stop hogging the blanket! I swear, next time I'm sleeping alone!"
Zhong Muchen closed the door, shaking his head and grinning. Life with a basketball prodigy wasn't boring, that's for sure.
....
Over the next few days, Zhong Muchen met with execs from the Clippers, Warriors, Suns, and other teams projected to land high picks. But it was the Suns' GM, Steve Kerr, who left the strongest impression.
"Lin's not built for slow, post-heavy basketball," Kerr said without wasting time. "He's a perfect fit for pace-and-space. Running, gunning. Don't bulk him up—he's not a traditional center. He's a super-sized wing in a center's body."
Kerr laid it all out: Lin Yi's body fat stats, weight thresholds, mobility analysis—he had clearly done his homework. And he didn't sugarcoat the plan either.
"We probably won't land the No. 1 pick, but if we're close, we'll try to trade up. I like Lin more than Blake Griffin. He's more versatile."
Unlike Presti's vague promises, Kerr's pitch was straightforward: if they didn't draft Lin, they'd trade for him. Even if it meant using Amar'e Stoudemire as bait.
It was like Kerr was saying: I'm getting Lin one way or another.
When Zhong Muchen relayed all this, Lin Yi just sighed and said, "Kerr is Kerr."
Kerr's GM stint in Phoenix hadn't exactly been a success, but Lin Yi knew the guy had vision. The Suns were stuck in a weird limbo—too good to tank, not good enough to contend. Nash was nearing the end, and Stoudemire was clearly headed for free agency.
Still, it wasn't about results—it was about recognition. Kerr saw Lin Yi not as a lottery ticket, but a cornerstone.
....
By early March 2009, the NBA's race for the playoffs was heating up. The Lakers and Celtics were the heavyweights, but the Cavs, Magic, Rockets, Spurs, and Mavs were all looking to shake up the hierarchy.
Meanwhile, the Wildcats were locked in, training for March Madness.
On March 14th, the NCAA Tournament Committee dropped the 68-team bracket. James Harden's Sun Devils snagged a wild card, and so did another flashy, fast-paced squad that had impressed the judges.
At the Wildcats' gym, Coach McKillop walked in with a paper in hand and a serious look on his face.
"Boys," he said. "March is here."
TN: Cough, cough, winter is here.
Time for madness.
.....
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