Lin Qi's first real blow wasn't to Radja.
Instead, it was Willie Anderson and Ervin Johnson.
When the decision was announced in the basketball affairs office, the meeting room fell silent for a long time.
Adelman sat opposite him, his brow furrowed. Thibodeau's expression was even more grim. " Ervin is going to make a move too?"
For the first time, the defensive assistant coach's tone carried a clear hint of dissatisfaction.
Throughout the 1995-96 season, Ervin Johnson's stats weren't impressive, averaging 4.8 points, 7.5 rebounds, and 2.2 blocks per game. If you only looked at the newspaper stats, he didn't seem like a significant player.
But Thibodeau knew very well that without this center, the Celtics ' paint area would have been dismantled long ago.
"We just got our interior depth ripped by the Chicago Bulls, and now you want to trade away our most reliable rim protector, the center?" Thibodeau stared at Lin Qi.
" Tom, we didn't give them away for nothing," Lin Qi said calmly. "It's precisely because they're important that we were able to secure Charlotte's thirteenth pick."
Lin Qi pushed a document to the center of the table, which contained the Hornets ' roster, salaries, and recent public statements from management.
" Charlotte doesn't want to wait. They're not a team willing to slowly develop a lottery pick over three years. Glen Rice is in his prime, and they want to make the playoffs. They need a seasoned swingman who can immediately provide depth on the wings, and a defensive center who can immediately protect the paint. No development period is needed; trade today, and they can be on the court in October. That's the highest premium Willie and Ervin command on the market."
The negotiation process was far more protracted than Lin Qi had anticipated.
Charlotte's side was overseen by the general manager himself; that old fox was initially unwilling to relinquish his lottery ticket.
"Lin, Willie is a good player, and Ervin is a good player too." The other person laughed politely on the phone, spouting a string of official jargon and platitudes. "But you know, this is 1996, and you know what the thirteenth pick means."
Lin Qi leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen, speaking calmly and deliberately:
"Of course I know, otherwise I wouldn't have made this call. But Bob, what you want is immediate talent, not another rookie whose future is uncertain after three years of development."
"That depends on what kind of rookie it is."
"It seems Los Angeles is offering you a very lucrative deal." Lin Qi chuckled, his voice utterly abrupt.
The person on the other end of the phone was clearly startled; the Hornets ' general manager's voice instantly became alert. "Lin, I don't understand what you're talking about."
"I've heard some rumors that the Lakers are planning to trade Vlade Divac for your 13th pick, is that right?"
A deathly silence fell over the receiver.
The Hornets ' general manager froze mid-air, his hand hovering over the roster, his breath catching in his throat. This secret bilateral contact with Los Angeles hadn't even been communicated to most of the team's management. Where did this young man from Boston get this information?!
Before he could recover from his shock, Lin Qi continued.
" Divac is indeed a good player, but I must remind you that his individual impact on the team's strength is actually quite limited. He's a skilled center who needs a lot of touches. As long as he's in the paint, your core player Glen Rice's driving space will be completely compressed, and the perimeter players will have to desperately try to cover his defensive gaps."
Lin Qi leaned back in his chair, gave a cold laugh, and threw out his hardest card.
"But I can give you two playoff-caliber starters. Willie Anderson, a tough swingman averaging 12 points per game, with tough defense, and he'll be a perfect fit with Glen Rice on both ends of the court. On paper, Anderson's 12 points are almost the same as Divac's 13, but I'm also adding Ervin Johnson to your package... a 2.11-meter NBA Finals -caliber defensive center who can completely fill the paint that's been empty for the past six months since Mourning left."
" The Lakers give you a 13-point, skilled center. I'll give you two players who can help you with wing and interior defense, one of whom can average 12 points per game. Boston gives you two perfect pieces of the puzzle," Lin Qi said, retorting sharply. " Bob, I don't need to teach you how to do this, do I?"
Lin Qi retorted sharply, "I only want the 13th pick. I want to see a contract before the Lakers give you an answer."
Hearing the increasingly rapid breathing on the other end of the phone, the general manager of the Hornets felt a dryness in his throat.
Between Divac's 13 points and Anderson's 12 points, between "one person" and "two playoff starters," he was tempted by this huge amount of immediate impact and by Lin Qi's all-knowing pressure, and remained firmly rooted to the spot.
He desperately wanted those two living people. But reason finally made him ask another question:
"Lin... you'd trade two starters just to get this pick, so who do you really want to draft? Do you even think that high school student that Los Angeles is secretly watching is a super genius?"
Lin Qi didn't say a word into the microphone.
Beep, beep, beep...
The dial tone echoed in Charlotte's office, but it was this deathly silence that completely panicked the Hornets' management.
In the eyes of the shrewd Hornets management, not denying it was the most arrogant admission. Boston not only knew about the Lakers ' top-secret plan, but even put on a crazy show of "we'll sell everything we own to openly block the Lakers with the 13th pick."
" Bob, stop waiting! Boston might change their minds and buy another pick!" The assistant's palms were sweating. "These are two starters who could help Glen Rice get playing time and win games in October! If we miss them, we'll only have one high schooler left who has no interest in Charlotte!"
"Sign! Fax it to Boston immediately! Deal!"
That night, without any prior warning, the Charlotte Hornets, in a state of extreme anxiety and elation, signed the contract delivered to them in Boston.
Lot number 13, the money's officially in hand.
Only after the contract was locked in a safe and the "1-for-2" deal was officially finalized with Boston did the Hornets' general manager wipe the cold sweat from his brow before hurriedly calling his inside contact on the West Coast to inform Los Angeles that the deal had fallen through.
" Jerry, I'm sorry, that trade has been called off... Boston offered a price we couldn't refuse. The 13th pick is now with the Celtics."
Smack
In the Lakers' office in Los Angeles, Jerry West slowly put down the receiver, his expression changing drastically in an instant.
The deal was finalized quickly. When the news reached the training facility, Willie Anderson simply nodded quietly.
He's not a young kid anymore; he knows all too well how this league works.
" Charlotte?" Willie asked, wiping his sweat.
" Charlotte," Lin Qi handed her a clean towel, "They desperately need your experience and defense. The weather's nice over there."
Willie chuckled. "Don't make that face, Lin. I've been in this league long enough. The fact that I'm being traded for a lottery pick means I'm still worth something. There's nothing shameful about it."
He slung his bag over his shoulder, paused at the entrance of the training hall, and looked back at the young people still sweating profusely in the arena.
"Tell Kevin for me to stop using that stupid way of diving. And Finley, tell him to stop messing with Eddie in practice."
Lin Qi nodded. "I will pass on the message."
Willie rested his hand on the doorknob, paused for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed and asked, "When we played the Chicago Bulls, I really thought we could steal another game."
"Me too," Lin Qi said.
"Then next time... win it back for me." With that, he pushed open the door and walked out.
Ervin Johnson's reaction was even more silent than Willie's.
The center, who usually only does the dirty work on the court, sat in the locker room. After hearing the trade news, he simply lowered his head and carefully untied and retied the laces of his oversized basketball shoes.
"When are you leaving?" he asked in a muffled voice.
"After passing the medical examination."
"Okay." Ervin stood up, his 2.11-meter frame almost blocking out the lights in front of Lin Qi. He grinned, the usually taciturn man's smile revealing a slightly goofy quality, "Lin, thank you for leading me into the playoffs."
Lin Qi reached out and clasped his hand tightly with the enormous one. "Thank you for holding up the paint this season."
Ervin nodded, slung his training bag over his shoulder, and walked to the door. Suddenly, he turned back and blurted out, "Tell Coach Tom to keep his voice down when he's yelling on the sidelines. It hurts his ears."
Lin Qi couldn't help but laugh out loud, and Ervin chuckled as well, then turned and disappeared at the end of the corridor.
This is the coldest, and most realistic, aspect of professional sports. It's not that you did something wrong that gets you traded; sometimes, it's precisely because you're useful that you become a bargaining chip for the future.
That evening, Lin Qi stood in front of the whiteboard in the basketball affairs office once again.
The names " Willie Anderson " and " Ervin Johnson " were crossed off the rotation list. Not erased, but moved to the other side, next to which were written four words in thick black lines: 13th pick.
Adelman appeared beside him at some point, looking at the empty interior rotation, and said softly, "You're going to get criticized. Fans will say you're tearing the team apart again, the media will say you're heartless. Thibodeau might want to strangle you tonight."
Lin Qi smiled and said, "Then you must help me persuade him."
Adelman laughed too, but after he finished laughing, the head coach looked at the whiteboard and his face turned serious. "So, you've squandered two starting positions, who exactly do you want to draft with this pick?"
Lin Qi didn't answer. He simply picked up a marker and drew a dark line under the words "Thirteenth in line" on the whiteboard.
Adelman looked at him. "Can't you say?"
Lin Qi snapped the pen cap back on and turned to look at the dark training hall outside the window, "It's not that I can't say it, it's just that even if I do, it might not be of any use."
Adelman's brow furrowed.
Anything can happen before the draft night.
Adelman fell completely silent. As a seasoned veteran, he understood.
Adelman concluded with, "What if that person were taken before the thirteenth pick?"
That just means... I'm not ruthless enough.
After saying that, he turned off the office lights.
In the darkness, the word "Thirteenth in line" marked with an underline on the whiteboard was still faintly visible.