The heavy solid wood office door slammed back against the frame, striking the rubber bumper with a dull thud.
Artest's footsteps quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor.
Sam Presti stood across the desk and casually tossed the half-drafted draft of the disciplinary suspension proposal into the wastebasket.
Presti wiped his forehead and let out a sigh of relief, " Rick has been through a lot downstairs, but letting him run around for two weeks is good, at least the locker room will be quiet for half a month. But tonight against Indiana, Rick Carlisle will have to rearrange the forward rotation."
Rick knows what he's doing in tonight's game, so there's no need to worry about that.
Lin Qi reached out and tapped the corner of the table. "How's the draft going? It's time to go through it again."
Presti unzipped his briefcase, took out a thick stack of reports categorized and filed in colorful plastic folders, and placed them on the table.
The folder was at least five inches thick, with the top layer printed in bold black text. "Summary of Early NCAA Draft Intentions from Preparatory High Schools, Overseas Leagues, and the National NCAA."
"High schools across the United States are in complete turmoil these past few days." Presti pulled out a chair and sat down, pulling out a file with a yellow cover. "The league office sent a briefing to team management last week, indicating that the 2005 collective bargaining agreement negotiations are a done deal. Stern is determined to include a 19-year-old age limit and a mandatory requirement of having graduated high school at least one year prior in the next version of the collective bargaining agreement. In other words, this June is the last chance for high school students across the country to directly skip a grade and enter the NBA."
" LeBron signed a $90 million shoe guarantee contract with Nike in Cleveland last year. With that example in mind, who would want to go to college and work for free in the NCAA as long as the draft market is good?"
"That's why the water is so murky." Presti turned to the first page. "Around the AAU circuit, the sidelines were filled with street brokers hired by major sneaker brands. These guys carried suitcases full of cash, buying Cadillac SUVs for the families of underage players in advance, and arranging nominal positions and salaries for their uncles and cousins. These high school seniors' appetites were set in the sky; each of them thought they could get a max contract after a few years in the league."
Presti pushed a document right under Lin Qi's nose.
The black teenager in the photo is grinning widely, with unusually broad shoulders, and his jersey bears the words "Southwest Atlanta Christian College" printed on the front.
" Dwight Howard." Presti pointed to the physical measurements on the photo. "He's 6'10" (2.08 meters barefoot), with a 7'4.5" wingspan and a 2.89" standing reach. In that small church high school in Atlanta with only 500 students, he averaged 25 points, 18 rebounds, and 8 blocks per game. Last week, his father, Dwight Howard Sr., privately told the Associated Press that he had decided to skip college and go straight to the draft."
Lin Qi glanced at the scouting report filled with dense data, " The Orlando Magic's current record is on track for the number one draft pick. What did John Wesbroder say in his office?"
" The Magic's management is about to fall into internal conflict," Presti whispered. "Wesbroder is a tough general manager with a hockey background. He's obsessed with Howard's historic breadth and jumping ability, believing that if he gets Howard a good interior coach, he'll be the Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal of the Eastern Conference in a few years. But the Magic's head coach John Davis, and the veteran scouts want Emeka Okafor from the University of Connecticut. Okafor is a junior, just led his team to the National Final Four, averaging 4 blocks per game, with a strong build, straight A's, high performance, and plug-and-play ability. If Orlando gets the number one pick, they'll be agonizing over the Howard vs. Okafor choice until June."
"Howard isn't Shaquille O'Neal; he's a big small forward at heart." Lin Qi flicked his cigarette ash. "He played point guard until junior high, but he grew so fast that he was pushed into center. He has no back-to-the-basket footwork in the paint; he relies entirely on face-up drives and alley-oops to get the ball. His lower body strength is also lacking now; against a center like Yao Ming, he can't even get into the paint. Even more detrimental is his family: a father who's a Georgia Ranger and church deacon in Atlanta, and a mother who's extremely devout but controlling. High school students raised in this kind of family, once they're out of parental control and receive tens of millions of dollars, will experience a much stronger psychological backlash than the average person."
Presti quickly jotted down the key points in his notepad, then pulled out the second file.
The cover features a gaunt face with a buzz cut and sunken eyes.
" Sean Shaun Livingston from Peoria Central High School." Presti flipped through the page. "6'7" barefoot, 6'11" wingspan, pure point guard. National scouts are calling him the next Magic Johnson or a 7'3" version of Anfernee Hardaway. Old Coach K reserved a full scholarship for him at Duke University, but his father is close to several street agents in Chicago, and they've basically finalized a spring draft announcement."
"Too thin." Lin Qi didn't look at Shaun Livingston's photo much, his tone blunt. "2.01 meters tall and only 180 pounds? His shinbones are as thin as bamboo poles. In high school leagues, he could easily dominate those 1.80-meter point guards with his vision and high-post back-to-the-basket game. But the NBA is too physical. Back-to-back away games against Gary Payton, Billups, or Kidd, they might knee him during a pick-and-roll at the top of the key, or sneakily poke his ribs with their elbows while boxing out. His body probably won't last more than a few seasons. A player like this shouldn't have entered the draft so early..."
Presti nodded, moved Shaun Livingston's file aside slightly, and pushed the third file on top.
The boy in the photo has fierce eyes and a string of Gothic letters tattooed on his neck. The background is the dilapidated red brick wall of Lincoln High School in Brooklyn, New York.
" Jerry Buss Telfair, Stephen Marbury's cousin, the streetball king of Coney Island. Adidas offered him a six-year, $15 million shoe contract last month. A film crew followed him 24/7 for a documentary. The New York Daily News hailed him as the savior of New York's traditional guards."
"A streetball superstar," Lin Qi sneered. "Barefoot, he's just over 1.80 meters tall, has no outside shooting, and relies entirely on dribbling, crossovers, and fancy pull-ups to advance the ball. Lincoln High's system revolves entirely around him padding his stats. In half-court sets, facing tight wing defense and zone defense, he can't even see passing lanes. Adidas is desperate, driven by Nike, and is trying to create another Allen Iverson. If Telfair makes it to the first round this year, he'll at most be handing towels to veterans on the bench for two years, and after three years, he'll fade out of the league rotation."