When he got to the arena, Chen Yu ran into David Griffin in the office area.
He casually asked if Real Madrid had won their game.
He didn’t follow soccer, but he knew they were playing in the Champions League final today because Real Madrid was visiting the United States.
"They won! They’re the champions!"
Chen Yu said proudly.
Three years ago in France, Chen Yu had met an injury-riddled Ronaldo, who the media claimed was on the verge of retirement. It was as if the gears of fate began to turn at that moment. Ronaldo’s subsequent league title, and now this Champions League victory—Chen Yu could take a fair share of the credit for both.
The feeling was one of shared glory.
"That’s great. Congratulations to them." David Griffin clearly didn’t grasp the prestige of a Champions League title. He offered a simple congrats before asking about the rookies.
He was now in charge of the scouting department.
"Let’s add one more guy. Trevor Ariza from UCLA. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s his name," Chen Yu said as they walked.
He was referring to the preparations for the upcoming workouts.
Just because they didn’t have a first-round pick didn’t mean they could skip holding workouts.
There were three main targets: Kevin Martin, Tony Allen, and David Harrison.
In the media’s mock drafts, all three were projected to be late first-round picks.
At the same time, none of the three were on the 14-man list Chen Yu had published after his training camp.
Given their current skill sets, Chen Yu felt Tony Allen and David Harrison just didn’t make the cut for his list.
Kevin Martin, however, was a different story. Chen Yu had intentionally left him off the list, keeping an ace up his sleeve. He planned to find a way to acquire him on his own.
Martin had his fair share of flaws, but his shooting and his sense of timing for his shots were incredibly sharp. His skills were also mature enough that, by all rights, he should have had no problem making the top 14.
"I remember him a bit from the training camp," Griffin said. "He has great lateral speed and an excellent wingspan. He should have the potential to become a great defensive player."
’His draft stock isn’t very high. He’ll probably be a second-round pick at best. For a championship team like the Phoenix Suns, the focus for any draft pick—let alone a second-rounder—was on role players. With the roster a year older, the Phoenix Suns still needed to bolster their defense. Besides, if they missed on a second-round pick, it wouldn’t be a big deal.’
After handling some business in his office and eating dinner with the team, Chen Yu found Brian to watch the live broadcast of the draft lottery.
"I have a strong gut feeling the number one pick is going to the East," Brian predicted with absolute certainty.
Chen Yu was on his laptop dealing with emails and didn’t pay him much mind, but he had to admit he agreed with him.
Over the past two years in the NBA, the "West is strong, East is weak" narrative had only become more pronounced.
The West was a total bloodbath, while the Eastern Conference champion was just an annual sacrificial lamb in the Finals. This was most clearly reflected in the TV ratings.
The Western Conference Finals ratings were comparable to the NBA Finals, while the Eastern Conference playoffs barely drew higher ratings than a first-round series in the West.
For a single league, this kind of imbalance was obviously not something Commissioner Stern wanted to see.
Propping up the East had become an absolute necessity.
Ambitious superstars didn’t want to go to the East, so giving an Eastern team the number one pick was the best solution.
James had gone to the Knight, and this year, whether it was Howard or Okafor, the top pick was almost certainly heading to an Eastern team.
The East could only get stronger by injecting new blood.
Back when he was just a fan, Chen Yu suspected the NBA draft lottery might be rigged. Now, after working in the league for a few years, he saw things from a different perspective. Although he had no hard evidence, he’d learned enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if there was some conspiracy at play.
The NBA was a show, a massive corporation. When its 30 "branch offices" were unbalanced in strength, you couldn’t just close one down. The only option was to find a way to prop up the weaker ones.
This also tied into developing local markets.
James’s arrival in Cleveland had done wonders to stimulate their local market.
His jersey sales had even surpassed those of superstars like Kobe and Hardaway.
Under those circumstances, it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if the league secretly manipulated the lottery to give the number one pick to the East.
The key question was: who would get it?
This was the topic of discussion among the few people in the room.
"What if it goes to the Magic?" Skiles said suddenly.
When the others looked at him, Skiles continued, "Before the trade deadline, the Magic made a trade with the Raptors. They traded up to get the Raptors’ first-round pick for this year. The Raptors finished with the eighth-worst record, giving them a 2.8 percent chance at the number one pick. That probability is low, sure, but this is the Magic we’re talking about. They once won the lottery with a 1.5 percent chance. Who’s to say they won’t replicate that miracle?"
After all, a small probability is still a probability. The league could just say they got lucky, that Lady Luck smiled upon them. What could anyone do about that?
"Most importantly," Skiles added, "even though the Magic have Drew Gooden and Juwan Howard and aren’t lacking at the power forward spot, if they get the number one pick, they can immediately trade it for a top-tier center and fix their frontcourt problems."
The Magic’s repeated failures in the Finals these past few years all came down to one thing: their frontcourt.
They had one of the league’s premier shooting guards in Tracy McGrady, plus the best and most well-rounded small forward in the league, Grant Hill.
Their backcourt was flawless. It was their frontcourt that was a massive liability.
The problem was, the Magic’s ownership had always been notoriously stingy and unwilling to spend big.
Nor did they have any valuable trade assets.
But if the number one pick simply fell into their lap, it would be like getting it for free. The Magic would surely be willing to trade that for a top-tier big man.
"Just like us back in the day," Skiles added.
The rise of the Phoenix Suns was inextricably linked to that number one pick they had basically gotten for free.
The men exchanged glances but said nothing.
Chen Yu paused as well, considering the possibility.
’Now that he mentioned it, it was entirely possible.’
’If the goal was to prop up the East, the best way to do it would be to create an Eastern Conference champion. And the Magic were clearly an excellent candidate. They were already a strong team. Give them a top-tier big man, and they would immediately take flight, possibly even snatching a championship away from the Phoenix Suns. The league knows the Magic won’t spend big, so why not just gift-wrap them the number one pick? Let them make a trade at no real cost to themselves. The Magic also had a high profile. Tracy McGrady’s flashy and graceful style of play had won him a legion of fans, while Hill had always been seen as the ideal, universally beloved role model. The Magic never lacked for attention.’
"If that’s how it plays out, wouldn’t the league’s meddling be a little too obvious? People would talk," said David Griffin.
Fans still talked about the "frozen envelope" that supposedly helped the Nicks land Ewing.
If the Magic got the number one pick with such low odds, it would inevitably stir up controversy.
As long as you don’t admit to conspiracy or rigging, it remains just speculation. But if you’re too blatant, the optics are terrible.
Chen Yu thought for a moment and said, "Actually, the Heat would also be a good choice."
Miami is a reasonably large market, and their frontcourt is also weak. With Eddie Jones and TJ Ford in the backcourt, adding a franchise center from the number one pick would give them a massive boost in strength.
Like Griffin said, giving the number one pick to the Magic would be a little too obvious.
Brian snorted. "Whatever happens, it’s not going to the West."
If they gave another top pick to the West, the conference would turn into the Battle of Verdun.
As they talked, the lottery ceremony began.
The results were announced one by one. When they got to the eighth pick, it was revealed that the Rockets had landed the #8 pick.
The Raptors’ pick had moved up.
Right after that, the Pioneer’s own first-round pick was announced as #7.
"It moved up again!" Brian exclaimed.
The Raptors’ pick had jumped again.
Everyone instinctively glanced at Skiles. ’Don’t tell me he’s actually going to be right,’ they thought.
The Hawk were sixth.
"Fifth, be fifth," Brian started chanting like a mantra.
If the Raptors didn’t get the fifth pick, then Skiles’s prediction might really be coming true.
The guy was clearly jealous and couldn’t stand to see the Magic do well.
Chen Yu also found himself staring nervously at the TV screen.
If Skiles’s script played out, the Magic were about to take off. Next year, they would absolutely become a formidable opponent for the Phoenix Suns.
That was not good news for the Suns.
But deep down, a part of Chen Yu was faintly hoping the Magic would get the number one pick.
Hill and Tracy McGrady were both good friends of his.
Especially Hill. He wasn’t getting any younger, and Chen Yu truly hoped he could win a championship—one he earned by leading a team in his prime, not by ring-chasing on a contender in his twilight years.
On the television, Stern smiled, paused for a moment, and then announced the owner of the fifth pick.
"The Wizards!"
As soon as the name was announced, Brian shot to his feet, yelling "Fuck!" and knocking his chair over with a loud CLATTER.
Everyone in the room looked at each other, a mix of expressions on their faces.
Chen Yu’s emotions were a complicated mix. He sighed at how obvious Stern’s script was, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel happy for Hill.
With the Raptors’ pick moving into the top four, it was almost a certainty that they—and by extension, the Magic—would get the number one pick.
The camera cut to the Raptors’ representative, their ownership group’s president, Larry Tanenbaum, and Vince Carter, who was there to bring them good luck. Both of their expressions were absolutely grim.
Larry Tanenbaum, in particular, looked so furious his face seemed to darken.
Chen Yu offered a silent moment of sympathy. He figured that for the next few years, Raptors fans would have only one mortal enemy: the Orlando Magic.
Next came the top four.
The Bobcats were guaranteed the fourth pick at minimum.
The tanking Bulls had the misfortune of landing the third pick.
But as unlucky as the Bulls were, the Fast Ship had it even worse.
They were determined to tank, and in the meat grinder that was the Western Conference, winning was difficult even when they tried.
They had the worst record in the entire league.
The camera cut to Sterling.
His face had turned green with rage, and only the presence of the camera forced him to maintain a calm facade.
Knowing his reputation as a loudmouth, he would probably rail against the league once the broadcast was over.
Stern paid them no mind. He faced the camera, smiled, and announced the owner of the second pick.
"The Fast Ship!"
The Raptors—or rather, the Magic—had truly been blessed by Lady Luck once again, miraculously landing the number one pick.

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