When Lin Qi answered the phone, the lights in the general manager's office had completely gone out.
There was an unusual silence on the other end of the phone; a faint static crackled in the receiver.
After a full two seconds of silence, the voice, thick with Indiana accent, slightly hoarse yet highly recognizable, slowly drifted over.
"Forest."
Lin Qi leaned back in the large leather chair, his spine, which had been tense all day, finally relaxing a little. " Larry Bird."
"I heard you didn't have a good day at FleetCenter; the whole building was buzzing with that college instructor's memo?"
"If you've gone to all that trouble to call via a private line just to offer me some cheap sympathy, then I suggest you hang up now." Lin Qi loosened his tie, his tone calm.
A low, sneer came from the other end of the phone, carrying Larry Bird Larry Bird's characteristic sarcasm and arrogance.
"Don't worry, Lin, I'm not that bored. Boston's fate is none of my business. Gaston, that idiot, brought this on himself." Larry Bird's voice was as lazy and direct as ever. "I watched yesterday's press conference live."
Lin Qi didn't reply, but just listened quietly.
" Rick Pitino had a good talk on stage." Larry Bird flipped through a newspaper on the other end of the phone, making a crisp rustling sound. "You know, those are just words for kids. A college coach, always using the professional league as his preaching ground."
Lin Qi replied casually, "So, you took time out of your busy schedule to call just to evaluate our new coach's speaking skills?"
"No." Larry Bird's smile faded, his tone steady yet firm. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm also coming out of retirement."
Lin Qi's fingers, which were habitually twirling the pen, suddenly stopped.
On the other end of the line, Larry Bird's voice was slightly lowered. " The Indiana management has approached me several times. I can't refuse an old friend, and coaching back in my hometown is quite suitable. I'm prepared to take the Pacers head coach position."
Lin Qi paused for two seconds, his mind flashing through the Pacers ' current roster and the competitive landscape of the Eastern Conference: " The Pacers?"
"Yes, the contract was signed a while ago."
Congratulations, Larry Bird. Hope your back injury can withstand the strain.
"Don't congratulate me too soon, Lin," Larry Bird scoffed on the phone. "You can congratulate me when I've upset the Chicago Bulls."
This arrogant and utterly trashy remark somehow managed to pry open a tiny crack in the otherwise stifling atmosphere of the office.
A smile finally appeared on Lin Qi's lips, "Alright, Larry Bird. You're the head coach of Indiana now, what does that have to do with Boston? Are you planning to come out of your way and give the Celtics some guidance on their rebuilding on your very first day in office?"
"I don't have time to deal with your rebuilding. I'm calling because I need players, real professional players."
Larry Bird's voice became incredibly serious. "Through a few old acquaintances in the Boston management, I already know the list of people Pitino is going to overhaul. He wants fast players, he wants crazy full-court press, he wants young guys in their early twenties who can run around the court like mad dogs. He doesn't want those old bones covered in injuries."
Lin Qi fiddled with the pen in his hand, the black ink spreading a small dot on the white paper, but he still didn't interrupt the other person.
"I want Chris Mullin."
Lin Qi stared at the empty coffee cup. The calm yet eager look in Mullin's eyes when he sat down seemed to still be vivid in his mind's eye.
" Chris is very important to us, Larry Bird. He was the key to pushing the Chicago Bulls to six games this year," Lin Qi probed in a standard business negotiation tone.
A disdainful sneer immediately came from the other end of the phone.
"Don't try that on me, Lin." Larry Bird bluntly exposed Lin Qi's rhetoric. "If you really didn't want to sell, you should have had your secretary lie and say you died in the bathroom the moment my phone rang."
Lin Qi chuckled a few times and shifted to a more comfortable sitting position, " Larry Bird, you're getting into character as fast as a seasoned general manager who's been in the business for ten years."
"Because I'm a head coach who's eager to win."
What price are you offering?
"That's more like doing business. Lin, I like your straightforwardness."
"I want that first-round draft pick you have this year."
"Ninth pick? Which pick do you want?"
"Yes, it's the ninth in line."
In Lin Qi's original timeline, the Pacers should have had a later draft pick this year. But in this era where his arrival has skewed the historical trajectory, the Celtics ' rise has scrambled the win records of several Eastern Conference- table Eastern Conference teams. The Indiana Pacers now hold that awkward ninth pick.
This position is delicate. They have no chance of drafting a cornerstone player like Tim Duncan, but using him for a regular rotation player would seem wasteful.
"Lin, Chris is already thirty-four years old. Trading a first-round ninth pick for a veteran who could be sidelined at any moment? I come from the Indiana countryside, but I'm not stupid." Larry Bird's voice turned cold, and he shrewdly began to negotiate a lower price.
"A sharpshooter who just played in the Eastern Conference Finals, averaging 14 points per game throughout the series and completely punishing the Chicago Bulls ' defense with a 55% field goal percentage," Lin Qi calmly corrected. " Larry Bird, as long as Chris stays outside the three-point line, Michael and Scottie won't dare to openly leave him wide open. He can relieve pressure on Reggie Miller. Just sitting in the locker room, he can keep those hot-blooded young punks firmly under control."
Larry Bird on the other end of the phone did not refute.
Lin Qi pressed his advantage, his voice low and seductive. " Larry Bird, you're taking over a team that just needs one more push to get back into the top tier, not a mess that needs rebuilding. You don't have time to spend another three years developing a draft pick. What you need is someone who can score for you right now, immediately, in the playoffs."
After a long pause, Larry Bird let out a soft sigh through the receiver, tinged with a hint of helplessness at having his sore spot hit. "Lin, with that mouth of yours, you should be selling life insurance in the busiest neighborhood of Boston."
"This is what I do now, Larry Bird." Lin Qi smiled at the air.
"Oh? What kind of insurance are you selling?"
"I'm selling you this as insurance, so your first year back in the league won't be too dismal."
Larry Bird pondered for a long time on the other end of the phone, finally backing down. "Ninth lot can be the main transaction, and I can give you this core asset. But, Lin, you have to help me deal with a problem with this deal."
Lin Qi closed his eyes slightly, the Pacers ' salary structure chart flashing through his mind, and blurted out, " Derrick McGee?"
"Hahaha, you're quite clever." Larry Bird laughed loudly, his laughter full of the cunning of an old fox.
You want to use this opportunity to clear salary space.
"I have to make room for Reggie's contract extension. McGee's three million dollar salary a year is nothing to you Celtics."
" McGee has four years left on his contract, which is three million dollars a year. That's no small amount. Rick Pitino just complained in a memo this morning that my players are old and slow, and now you want me to take on an even slower, more injury-prone, and more expensive forward. Larry Bird, the ninth pick is Chris Mullin's fair value, but it doesn't include the garbage-clearing fee I'd pay for Indiana's salary cap."
Larry Bird tapped the table on the other end, his voice deepening. "So what kind of compensation do you want from me? I can give you a future second-round pick as an extra package."
"The ninth pick is the core." Lin Qi slammed his pen down on the white paper. " Derrick McGee, a future second-round pick."
"Lin, your behavior and manners are becoming more and more like the Cardinal of yesteryear." Larry Bird's voice carried a hint of mockery or nostalgia in his laughter.
Lin Qi smiled, not ashamed at all, but rather proud. " Larry Bird, back when the Cardinal I was the Glove McHale outright during the draft, he was far more ruthless than what I'm doing now. This is just reasonable asset management at best."
Larry Bird finally broke down in laughter on the other end of the phone, the sound of his laughter echoing in the empty office and making the receiver vibrate slightly.
But soon, that hoarse laugh abruptly disappeared.
"Forest."
"Um?"
"I don't know exactly how bad your situation is in Boston right now, but as someone who's been there, I have something to tell you."
Larry Bird paused, his tone unusually self-deprecating and undisguisedly sarcastic.
"Back then, I played until I was covered in injuries, and in the end, all they gave me was a nominal title of 'special assistant to the team' from the management."
At this point, Larry Bird's voice became extremely hoarse, as if he were speaking to Lin Qi, or as if he were saying goodbye to his past self.
"Don't harbor any unrealistic fantasies, Lin."
"I'll remember that, Larry Bird."
"Beep--Beep--Beep--"
After hanging up the phone, Lin Qi remained seated in the leather chair, not moving for a long time.
Chris Mullin has left the team.
Derrick McGee joins the team.
The Indiana Pacers acquired the ninth overall pick in the first round of the 1997 NBA draft.
The Indiana Pacers acquired a second-round draft pick in 1999.