Chapter 48 – The Draft Begins: Where Will Chen Yan Land?
As soon as the lottery wrapped up, reports from every sports outlet came pouring in.
"Chen Yan locked in as the No. 1 pick—A new Eagle King is rising!"
"Franchise Frenzy: Teams battle for Chen Yan, top-3 lock confirmed!"
"Rockets eye Chinese duo! Chen Yan could join forces with Yao!"
"Or... not? Rumors swirl as CBA teams throw offers at Chen Yan!"
Some of these headlines were based on real intel. Others? Just clickbait fluff.
Chen Yan had no time for the media noise. His tryout tour had officially begun.
May 28 – Atlanta, Georgia.
First stop: the Atlanta Hawks.
The team already boasted two star guards—Joe Johnson and Mike Bibby. What they lacked was a dominant force in the paint. In their minds, Greg Oden was the final piece. The moment they secured the No. 1 pick, their minds were set.
That is, until they saw Chen Yan in action.
His performance during the private workout left everyone—from head coach Mike Woodson to the general manager—visibly shaken.
Just as Charles Barkley said on-air:
"Picking Chen Yan is like grabbing an All-Star straight off the shelf. You plug him in, and boom—instant impact."
Unlike Oden, Chen Yan had no injury history. No red flags. No what-ifs. Just raw, elite talent.
The Hawks suddenly found themselves in a bind. Should they stick with their original plan and draft Oden? Should they pivot and go with the versatile Chen Yan? Or maybe even make a bold move for Kevin Durant?
Too many options. Not enough clarity.
Atlanta's internal debate would continue all the way to draft night...
---
After Atlanta, Chen Yan flew out to work out for the Mavericks, Suns, SuperSonics, and Celtics.
As one of the most hyped prospects of the year, every team rolled out the red carpet. His travel schedule was packed, and the vibes? All business.
Chen Yan skipped the NBA Draft Combine. He always thought it was pointless—more for fringe prospects clawing for first-round spots than for surefire lottery picks.
Durant, on the other hand, went—and paid the price.
At the bench press station, Durant failed to lift the bar even once, recording zero reps. The worst result in rookie combine history.
And he looked miserable doing it.
A strength coach in the room laughed so hard he literally spit out his water. Durant's embarrassment was complete.
On his way back to the hotel, KD crushed five packs of instant noodles in silent rage.
Later that night, he called Chen Yan.
"Chen, going to the combine was the dumbest decision of my life."
Chen sighed.
"Told you, man. That thing's useless for guys like us."
"Bro, I got clowned out there. I can't sleep."
"KD, chill. Nobody's drafting a bodybuilder. They want hoopers, not bench press champs."
Chen wasn't usually the type to offer comfort, but Durant—sensitive and thin-skinned—was the kind of guy who'd spiral without reassurance.
Despite his occasional stubbornness, Durant was good people. Loyal, real, and always respectful. He just cared way too much about public opinion.
---
As players wrapped up their tryouts, NBA teams began releasing smokescreens and cryptic statements to throw off their competition.
The Trail Blazers suddenly claimed they weren't that high on Oden after all—and that they were looking to pair Chen Yan with Brandon Roy for a "Double Gun" backcourt.
The Celtics leaked that they were targeting Al Horford with the third pick—and not Oden, Durant, or Chen Yan.
Then came the Hawks, the kings of confusion.
They hinted they still hadn't decided who to draft—and didn't even rule out trading the No. 1 pick altogether.
Classic draft-week chaos.
Fans could barely keep up. Social media exploded with theories, arguments, and mock drafts.
"This year's draft is gonna be wild," someone posted.
"Nobody knows nothin'."
"Better grab the popcorn."
---
June 14 – NBA Finals, Game 4.
The Spurs completed the sweep.
A young LeBron James was no match for San Antonio's playoff-hardened machine. After the final buzzer, Tim Duncan walked over to the dejected star and dropped a line that would live on in NBA lore:
"The future is yours."
Inspirational? Maybe. But it also stung like hell.
Leave it to Duncan—quiet, respectful, and lowkey savage.
---
June 26 – New York City, two days before the 2007 NBA Draft.
Chen Yan and his agent, Bill Duffy, arrived in NYC early.
That day, Bill gave Chen Yan a surprise—he flew his parents in from China. All expenses paid.
It was their first time leaving the country.
Overwhelmed and wide-eyed, Chen's parents acted like kids at Disneyland. They'd packed the most formal outfits from their closet, wanting to look their best for the big day.
After all, the draft would be broadcast live on CCTV5. Their son, on national television. That kind of thing doesn't just happen to regular families.
Following a day of rest and jet lag recovery, Chen Yan took them sightseeing around New York.
Statue of Liberty. Empire State Building. Central Park. Times Square.
He even booked Broadway tickets to a musical—his mom loved it.
Everything had been arranged perfectly by Bill Duffy. Just like he promised when they signed:
"You focus on basketball. I'll handle the rest."
---
June 28 – Madison Square Garden.
Draft day.
The most anticipated class in recent memory was about to enter the league—and the energy in MSG was electric.
Fans packed the entrance of Madison Square Garden early, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the next generation of NBA superstars.
The crowd stirred the moment Chen Yan appeared. After an electric run through March Madness, American fans now recognized this rising Chinese sensation. He greeted the crowd with a warm smile and a wave before heading inside, flanked by his agent and his parents.
Contrary to its name, the "green room" wasn't actually a room—it was the front row of the draft venue, reserved only for the top lottery picks.
Click, click, click, click!
As soon as Chen Yan stepped into view in a custom-made, deep red suit, the flashes erupted like fireworks. Every camera turned toward him.
His suit, crafted three weeks in advance by his agent Bill Duffy's team, made an immediate statement. Duffy always said, "Looking the part is the first step to becoming a star."
Once inside the green room, Chen Yan's eyes quickly landed on Kevin Durant.
KD's look was... unforgettable: a gray suit, bright pink shirt, and a bold orange tie. The kind of combo that either screams disaster—or confidence.
"Oh! Who's this fashion icon?" Chen Yan chuckled, walking up to Durant and giving him a quick hug. "KD, you sure you're at the right event? This ain't Paris Fashion Week, bro!"
Durant laughed. "You like it? I thought I'd switch things up tonight."
"Man, not gonna lie. It's bold—but it works. Respect."
After their greeting, Chen Yan glanced around the room and recognized more familiar faces: Greg Oden, Mike Conley, Joakim Noah, Al Horford, Corey Brewer, Nick Young…all the big names from this draft class.
Conley and Oden came over to dap him up. The three of them, all represented by Bill Duffy, had trained together and occasionally grabbed meals during the offseason.
Meanwhile, Noah, Horford, and Brewer barely acknowledged him. They deliberately turned their heads away, refusing to make eye contact.
They hadn't forgotten the NCAA Final. In their eyes, if it weren't for Chen Yan's explosion during March Madness, Florida would've repeated as champions. Their silence said it all.
Suddenly, the cameras began flashing again.
This time, it was Yi Jianlian walking in.
Two Chinese prospects in the green room? A historic moment.
"Hey, I've seen your highlights," Yi said with a friendly nod. "You've got game. I like your style."
Chen Yan grinned. "I grew up watching you play, man. Big fan."
Yi blinked, momentarily speechless. They were both 19—and Yi was technically a month younger. It felt weird hearing someone his age call him a childhood idol.
Over on CCTV5, the broadcast kicked off.
"We can see that both Chen Yan and Yi Jianlian have arrived at the draft venue," Yu Jia announced excitedly.
"Looks like this is their first time meeting," Zhang Weiping chimed in.
"They both seem in good spirits tonight," added Coach Xu. "Hopefully, they'll get picked high and land in good situations."
The trio of commentators kept things casual, chatting like old friends.
Meanwhile, fans across China tuned in, and social media lit up with comments:
"Chen Yan looks amazing!"
"That red suit is fire. Most guys couldn't pull that off."
"Yi's still got that clean look."
"Let's be honest—Chen Yan's face belongs in the entertainment industry."
With no games on tonight and the draft still moments away, fans spent most of their time talking about Chen Yan's looks and outfit.
---
8:00 PM — Draft Time
The 2007 NBA Draft officially kicked off.
Commissioner David Stern walked onto the stage with a wide smile, only to be greeted by a wave of playful boos from the crowd.
It was tradition. Stern didn't even flinch. He'd been through this before—dozens of times.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Stern began, "welcome to the 2007 NBA Draft..."
After his brief opening speech, he stepped offstage to give the Atlanta Hawks their five-minute decision window.
Five minutes later, Stern returned—this time holding an envelope.
The entire theater fell silent.
"With the first pick in the 2007 NBA Draft, the Atlanta Hawks select…"
Stern paused, deliberately dragging it out.
The crowd, already on edge, groaned.
Then he revealed the name:
"Greg Oden!"
No surprise there.
The Hawks were desperate for a true center. Oden was a physical beast and filled a gaping hole in their lineup.
Chen Yan nodded slightly. He'd expected this. He hugged his mom, then watched as Oden put on the Hawks cap and made his way to the stage.
The pick was logical, but Chen couldn't help wondering—would Oden's fate be different this time around?
In his past life, Oden's career had been derailed by injuries, made worse by Portland's infamous medical staff. But now, with Atlanta's better infrastructure, maybe things would turn out differently.
Another envelope arrived.
Stern stepped back to the mic.
"With the second pick in the 2007 NBA Draft, the Portland Trail Blazers select…"
Chen Yan's heart skipped.
Please not Portland. Please not Portland.
That training staff was a graveyard for young talent.
"Chen Yan!"
The name echoed through the arena.
For a brief second, Chen froze.
What?
Me? At two?
He had been convinced Durant would go second. KD had the hype, the numbers, the star presence. And Portland already had Brandon Roy—why would they need another ball-dominant wing?
What, they want me coming off the bench?
Still, Chen didn't let his emotions show. He stood, gave his parents and Bill Duffy a quick hug, and took the Trail Blazers cap from the staff.
His smile was perfect. Calm. Professional.
Fake.
Smile for the cameras, even when your heart's sinking. That's showbiz... no, that's basketball.
He walked onto the stage, shook David Stern's hand, and posed for the cameras.
As they leaned in for the photo, Stern whispered something in his ear—but with the roar of the crowd, Chen couldn't make it out.
Still dazed, he walked off the stage.
Was this real? Was he really going to the Blazers?
Bill Duffy caught up to him immediately and leaned in.
"Chen," he said in a low voice, "don't talk to the media about Portland yet. A trade might be coming."
Chen Yan raised an eyebrow, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes.
A trade?
Maybe this night wasn't over just yet.
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