Charlotte, June 25, 1997.
Inside the NBA draft arena, the broadcast lights on the ceiling were blindingly bright.
General managers from all the teams in the United States, agents wearing gold-rimmed glasses, tired-looking scouts, and reporters carrying long lenses and microphones crowded the hall.
This was Tim Duncan's night, and the whole of America knew it.
So much so that when league president David Stern strode onto the stage with his signature gait, opened the first envelope, and read out the name in that perfectly calm voice, there wasn't even a gasp from the audience.
"In the 1997 NBA Draft, the San Antonio Spurs selected Tim Duncan from Wake Forest University with the first overall pick."
Scattered applause and the expected clicking of camera shutters rang out simultaneously. The television cameras immediately focused on the tall man in the oversized suit, whose face revealed no emotion. Tim Duncan calmly stood up, bumped fists with his family, walked onto the stage, and took the baseball cap with the Spurs logo from Stern.
In the Boston Celtics ' remote draft war room, Lin Qi leaned back in his leather chair, staring silently at Tim Duncan's perpetually expressionless poker face on the television screen.
There's absolutely no room for maneuver with the number one draft pick; it's the cornerstone of Popovich's future, something he wouldn't let go of even if it meant putting the entire Spurs team on the trading block.
For everyone sitting at the poker table, the real draft only begins with the second pick.
Five minutes later, the live call bell rang, and the second envelope was slowly opened by David Stern in Charlotte.
"Second overall pick, the Philadelphia 76ers selected Keith Van Horn from the University of University of Utah."
At that very moment, the three secure telephones on the desk in the operations room started vibrating wildly simultaneously, their red indicator lights flashing in unison.
The cacophony of price quotes and the rustling of documents made the room temperature rise sharply.
Lin Qi didn't speak, but simply reached into the pen holder and pulled out a black fountain pen, giving the think tank no time for cross-discussion, nor giving the impatient general managers on the other end of the phone a chance to raise the price further.
He lowered his wrist and wrote a name with remarkable precision on the green draft card.
"Hand it over."
Lin Qi pushed the card forward.
The staff member standing by the door grabbed the card, turned around, his shoes screeching on the wooden floor, and jogged out of the room.
Two minutes later, the television broadcast from Charlotte switched back to the center of the draft stage. David Stern straightened his tie, smiled, and steadily walked onto the stage, clutching the envelope bearing the Celtics' green shamrock logo.
At this moment, the operations room in Boston was eerily quiet, with only the faint sound of the central air conditioning fan turning.
David Stern tore open the seal, pulled out the note, and his voice echoed throughout the United States.
"In the 1997 NBA Draft, the Boston Celtics selected Chauncey Billups Billups from the University of Colorado with the third overall pick."
As the fourth overall pick's timer began to tick, Rick Pitino finally started to get restless.
He abruptly stood up from the soft leather armchair, walked a few steps to the huge whiteboard for the talent show, and pointed forcefully at the name that was circled in blue marker.
Ron Mercer.
The Kentucky star who just led his team to the NCAA championship is also Pitino's most familiar and trusted protégé.
"Lin." Pitino deliberately lowered his voice, but the obsession and dissatisfaction of a university tyrant were almost overflowing in his tone.
Lin Qi didn't even lift his eyelids.
He held the phone receiver in his right hand, listening to the frantic, heavy voice of the New Jersey Nets' general manager making a gambler's frenzied offer...
"The 6th lottery pick, the 21st lottery pick, and the second round lottery in 1999..."
Lin Qi calmly uttered two words into the microphone to the anxious Nets general manager. "Deal."
He then hung up the phone steadily, met Pitino's angry eyes again, and gave a cold smile, "Coach Pitino, please calm down."
Two minutes later, the broadcast camera cut back to the center of the stage, where David Stern casually opened the envelope.
"In the 1997 NBA Draft, fourth overall pick, the New Jersey Nets selected Tony Battie from Texas Tech University."
A round of polite applause erupted from the audience.
In the operations room, Pitino stared at the television screen, his eye twitching nervously.
After the fifth pick, it was Boston's turn to pick the sixth.
Lin Qi picked up his pen and wrote a name on the green draft card.
The moment he saw that name, Pitino's tense shoulders finally relaxed slightly.
David Stern stepped back to the stage. "Sixth overall pick, Boston Celtics select— Ron Mercer from the University of Kentucky."
A relaxed round of applause filled the room, and Pitino finally showed his first smile since nightfall.
"That's right, Lin." Pitino looked at his beloved student wearing Boston Celtics hat on the big screen.
Lin Qi smiled noncommittally, "I've satisfied you, Coach."
Pitino gave him a sharp look, sensing that behind Lin Qi's nonchalant expression lay some hidden agenda that could send his blood pressure soaring.
Pitino's intuition is often very accurate.
Just three picks later, when the draft progressed to the ninth pick...
Pitino's brows furrowed instantly. "Lin, Derrick Anderson..."
Lin Qi calmly picked up the ninth card, lowered his head, and his pen made a sharp, scratching sound as it traced the card.
The card was handed out by staff.
At the Charlotte venue, David Stern's voice rang out.
"Ninth overall pick, Boston Celtics select— Tracy McGrady from the Mount Zion Christian Academy."
The TNT experts in the commentary booth erupted in an uproar at that moment.
Is Boston planning to open a daycare center for gifted high school students in Boston?
"With Kevin Garnett and Tracy McGrady, is Lin Qi stockpiling talent for ten years from now, or is he ignoring Coach Rick Pitino's needs in this way?"
Listening to the commentator's almost blatant sarcasm on TV, Pitino's face was beyond ugly; he exuded an aura of coldness that kept strangers at bay.
As the draft pick gradually approaches the 13th position, the Cleveland Cavaliers ' draft clock has begun its countdown.
Lin Qi reached out and pressed the pager button on his desk, proactively calling Cleveland.
"The 21st pick, plus the 25th pick, and two future second-round picks." Lin Qi's voice was flat, yet carried an undeniable air of authority. "In exchange for your 13th pick. If you agree, submit the trade request now."
The other party agreed eagerly over the phone with almost no hesitation.
Under Pitino's Lin Qi Lin Qi wrote " Derrick Anderson " in the center of the card with a black marker.
"... You should have done this a long time ago."
Lin Qi didn't refute, but simply gave a look to the staff member by the door, signaling them to send out the final confirmed draft cards.
Soon, David Stern's signature steady voice came through the television again.
"After a transaction..."
"In the 1997 NBA Draft, the Boston Celtics selected Derrick Anderson from the University of Kentucky with the 13th overall pick."
This time, Pitino finally revealed the smile of a victor.
Ron Mercer and Derrick Anderson, two former Kentucky players, both wore the green jersey on the same night.
Lin Qi gave him everything he wanted.
But when Pitino looked at the calm back of the young CEO sitting in the main seat, the satisfied pleasure in his heart could not be completely satisfied.
Because throughout the entire night, Lin Qi was never truly led by him.
Third pick: Chauncey Billups Billups.
Sixth pick, Ron Mercer.
Ninth pick: Tracy McGrady.
Thirteenth pick, Derrick Anderson.
Finally, during the second round of the draft, in garbage time when the entire league's management was somewhat exhausted, Lin Qi casually traded a few future second-round picks with little to no presence and a negligible amount of cash to other teams for Tony Delk and Wall McCarty.
Aside from Antawn Kemba Walker, who was far away in Minnesota and impossible to acquire, Lin Qi had almost assembled all of Pitino's " Kentucky protégés" that night.
Pitino stared at the whiteboard displaying the results of the draft night and suddenly realized a fact that made him very uncomfortable.
He thought that tonight he had used his authority as head coach to force the young president to compromise with him.
But in the end, the person who truly controlled the rhythm of the audition night...
It's still Lin Qi.