The Christmas Day games of 1996 had just ended, and Boston was still immersed in the biting cold and the hangovers of revelry in the early morning.
The bar district outside FleetCenter Arena was ablaze with activity all night, beer cans littered the streets. Televisions across the city were replaying the final moments of the previous night: Kevin Garnett soaring into the air at the last second, slamming the ball into the basket despite being double-teamed by the Los Angeles Lakers, a game-winning shot that paralyzed the entire North Shore Garden. On newspaper stands, the freshly printed front page of the Boston Globe featured huge bold letters, the strong smell of ink mingling with the fervor of victory...
Boston's Christmas Gift: Garnett's Unstoppable Force Leads to Lakers' Heartbreaking Defeat on the North Beach!
Lin Qi had no time to savor the glory that belonged to the uniformed group.
He pushed open the heavy mahogany door to the general manager's office, stepping inside with the chill of Boston morning. He tossed his snow-covered wool coat onto the back of his chair, his gaze immediately landing on the desk.
There, two official documents from the alliance, still warm from the fax machine, lay quietly on the file tray, like two time bombs ready to explode at any moment.
The first fax came from Dallas.
" The Dallas Mavericks, Phoenix Suns, and Dallas have reached a multi-party agreement, officially completing a multi-player restructuring transaction."
The Suns have traded several players to officially acquire Jason Kidd...
Looking at the cold, printed words, Lin Qi's lips curled into a cold smile.
In the original timeline, the Suns should have traded Sam Cassell, Michael Finley, and A.C. Green to acquire Kidd. That was the original prototype of this trade that shocked the league.
However, in the summer of 1994, Lin Qi's trades allowed Sam Cassell and Finley to now wear Boston's green uniforms and make significant contributions to last night's comeback; while veteran Green was on the bench in Los Angeles at the time.
This is the butterfly effect.
It didn't stop Kidd from switching sides, but like an invisible scalpel, it tore the entire alliance's power landscape into something strange and bizarre.
Lin Qi opened a drawer, took out a cigarette, and lit it. Pale blue smoke drifted through the dim office as his gaze pierced the smoke, fixed on Kidd's name.
Two years ago, he was the hottest super talent in the United States and the future light of traditional point guards. Now, he is like a contagious disease spread by his pus, and the Dallas management hastily swept him out. The famous " Three Js did not lose to Michael Jordan. Instead, in an absurd battle for an R&B female singer, the entire locker room was blown to rubble.
"Boss," the assistant cautiously approached the table with a cup of coffee, a hint of probing in his eyes, "Didn't we do a detailed scouting report on Kidd before? His playmaking ability is exactly what we need. Should we... meet with his agent?"
"Don't want."
Lin Qi exhaled a puff of smoke, his voice cold and flat. " Boston is building a winning culture right now. They're not going to let a genius blow up the locker room at any moment. Don't get involved. Let the Suns and Dallas up their own mess."
After speaking, Lin Qi moved his finger to the second fax, which was an official injury confirmation form from San Antonio.
David Robinson suffered a fracture of the fifth metatarsal bone in his left foot, ending his season.
The " The Admiral," who had just recovered from a back injury, returned to play only six games amidst the hopes of Spurs fans throughout the city before suffering another devastating blow. The Spurs ' pillar of strength collapsed completely at that moment.
Lin Qi could even imagine the greedy smiles on the faces of the general managers of the league's twenty-odd teams when they saw this report. San Antonio was finished. In this brutal season, they would go from being a top powerhouse in the Western Conference to a fat sheep to be slaughtered overnight.
The most fatal flaw was the Spurs' 1997 first-round draft pick that Lin Qi held.
Includes top-three priority protection.
This is an extremely subtle and crazy game.
If the Spurs manage to get a top-three pick and retain their 1997 draft pick, the pick will automatically be rolled over. However, if it's delayed until 1998, all the protective shells will be completely stripped away, turning it into a terrifyingly valuable unprotected first-round pick.
At the moment David Robinson fell, the consensus across the league was unanimous: San Antonio was doomed for at least several more years.
Moreover, David Robinson was already 31 years old. A seven-foot giant who relied on mobility suffering a devastating leg injury was practically a death sentence for his prime. The Admiral was gone, and the ruins of San Antonio were already filled with the strong stench of blood.
The Shark, smelling the potential for profit, instantly took the bait.
"Ring ring--!!"
The red landline phone on the desk started screaming like a madman.
"Lin, let's talk about the Spurs' draft pick! We're willing to offer an All-Star caliber player who can contribute immediately. If you agree, the player can fly to Boston this afternoon!"
"Lin, don't blame me for not warning you, the top three protection is too risky. What if the Spurs actually get a top-three pick next year? Name your price, don't let our assets become worthless!"
The phone rang like a bombardment from executives across the Eastern Conference and Western Conference, from championship contenders to rebuilding teams completely tanking. Greed, creeping along the unseen phone lines, was spreading wildly through the Boston management offices.
Lin Qi didn't answer a single call. He leaned back in his leather chair, coldly watching his assistant, sweating profusely, repeatedly answer and hang up, then write those densely packed quotes on a huge whiteboard with Mark.
Only when the whiteboard was completely filled with chips from various teams Wizards slowly stub out his cigarette. He gestured for his assistant to be quiet, then picked up the receiver himself and expertly dialed a State of Texas number.
After a few seconds of busy signal, a deep, hoarse voice, still tinged with ruthlessness and violence, came from the other end of the line.
Gregg Popovich.
At this time, Popovich had just staged a "coup" in San Antonio, firing head coach Bob Hill and taking over for himself. He was now being fiercely criticized by the Texas media and angry fans. The injury of his key player pushed him into the abyss.
" Gregg, it's me, Lin Qi."
There was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone. After a full three seconds, Popovich's suppressed, angry breathing came through. "If you're calling specifically to wish me a Merry Christmas, you don't need to. I'm not in the mood for small talk right now."
"I heard about David's injury, which is very regrettable." Lin Qi shifted into a more comfortable position, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "To be honest, my office whiteboard is completely full. Fourteen general managers are bombarding my phone with offers, all very tempting, and all after your first-round pick."
Popovich let out a chilling laugh on the other end of the phone, "So, you called all this way just to show off that you have the rope to strangle San Antonio?"
"Don't get me wrong, Gregg, I'm here to help you defuse the bomb."
Lin Qi's tone was flat, yet carried an almost cruel rationality. "You understand the current situation better than anyone. If the Spurs are lucky this year and tank to make it into the top three, this pick will indeed stay with you. But what's the cost? In 1998, you'll give Boston an unprotected draft pick. If you're unlucky and happen to get the fourth pick..."
"Nobody knows how much of David Robinson's former strength he'll have when he returns next season, and nobody can guarantee the Spurs won't continue to flop next year. Gregg, are you willing to take the bet?"
All that could be heard on the other end of the phone was heavy breathing and static from the old receiver. Popovich was a gambler, but he couldn't afford to lose the Spurs ' future.
After a long silence, Popovich asked, slowly and deliberately, his voice hoarse with a hint of resignation, "... What do you want?"
Lin Qi turned his head, looked out the window at the cold yet bustling street scene of Boston, and slowly uttered two years that made the air freeze instantly.
"1998, 2000. Two first-round draft picks, unprotected."
"Are you crazy?!" Popovich's voice suddenly rose, roaring like a wild beast whose tail had been stepped on and which was driven to desperation, "Two unprotected first round picks?! Lin Qi, you're extorting me! You're robbing me!"
"You can refuse, Gregg." Lin Qi's voice turned completely cold, each word carrying an undeniable sense of pressure.
"But I promise, before Suns today, I'll sell this 1997 pick to another team. At that point, the one sitting across from you, sucking your blood dry, won't be someone like me who keeps their word."
A long, deathly silence fell over the other end of the phone again. Popovich's breathing was heavy, like a broken bellows; he was calculating, struggling, and weighing the non-existent hope for survival.
Finally, his voice weakened, becoming hoarse as if sandpaper scraping the ground. "Two unprotected... in exchange for regaining control of the 1997 draw. Deal."
"Beep--"
The call was abruptly ended.
As evening fell, the setting sun bathed the streets of Boston in a crimson glow, and the confirmation call from San Antonio finally arrived.
I agree in principle.
The Spurs used two long-term unprotected first-round picks in 1998 and 2000 to forcibly regain control of their destiny, just like they did in 1997.
In the office, the assistant, who had witnessed the entire incident, slumped into his chair, his mouth agape. "Boss... they actually agreed? This is the most outrageous robbery in league history! Has Popovich lost his mind?"
Lin Qi stood up from behind his desk expressionlessly and straightened the cuffs of his suit and shirt.
"Erase the whiteboard and reconnect me to the Vancouver Grizzlies."
The assistant was completely stunned, his mouth agape. "Still want to negotiate? But the Spurs have already returned their 1997 draft pick; we have no more assets left..."
Lin Qi turned his head, his eyes flashing with the ruthless light unique to a hunter. "I currently hold the Spurs' two unprotected first-round picks in my hands. This is the most perfect, most irrational bait in the entire league."
At this time, the anxiety of the management of Vancouver, the newly joined Canada expansion team, had reached a breaking point. According to the bizarre rule set by the league to restrict new teams, the Grizzlies could not use their draft pick to select the number one overall pick during the protection period, no matter how bad their record was. This rule was like an iron chain around the neck of this new team.
However, this strict rule has a loophole: as long as the trade acquires draft picks from other teams, it will not be subject to any expansion clause.
Vancouver desperately needs a cornerstone player to revive the basketball market. David Robinson's season-ending injury presents them with a golden opportunity to hunt down the Spurs. The Canada even firmly believe that San Antonio, without its superstar, will slump for at least five years. Two unprotected first-round picks are, to them, equivalent to two future superstars.
The negotiations concluded at 10 p. m. that evening.
On the whiteboard, the Spurs ' two unprotected first-round picks from a long time ago were erased, replaced by...
" Vancouver Grizzlies, 1997 first-round draft pick, unprotected."
" Vancouver Grizzlies, 2001 first-round draft pick, unprotected."
To make this one-sided acquisition appear more like a "win-win deal," Lin Qi even went so far as to generously include several second-round picks that Boston would never need on the scales of assets.
Outside the window, the Boston night sky was still dazzling, and the news about Garnett's game-winning shot against the Lakers was still scrolling wildly on TV.
Lin Qi slowly closed the folder, locking all the unpredictable events into the drawer. He looked at the empty office, picked up his now-cold coffee, and smiled faintly at the myriad lights outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
Merry Christmas, gentlemen.
In the corner, the fax machine was slightly warm and emitting a low hum.
It was like a ferocious beast that had just had a hearty meal, emitting a satisfied growl in the Late Night.