"You want my 2016 first-round pick?"
Chen Yilun chuckled when he saw the name on his caller ID.
"Billy, Billy, I do sympathize with your situation. But honestly, what do you still have that I'd want in exchange?"
The caller was none other than Brooklyn Nets GM Billy King.
King had always been something of a tragic figure. Under his management, the Nets had once been a thriving team. Unfortunately, his meddlesome owner couldn't keep from interfering. That infamous blockbuster trade with the Celtics had been forced through under relentless pressure from the Russian boss.
The so-called Brooklyn "super team" had already collapsed last season. Now Billy King was left cleaning up the wreckage, utterly powerless to fix it.
The Nets were such a mess this year that even the most loyal fan would shake their head in disbelief.
The only respectable names on the roster were Brook Lopez, averaging 20 points per game, and Thaddeus Young, averaging 14. Meanwhile, Joe Johnson's bloated $20 million salary had locked up all flexibility.
Worst of all, this year's first-round pick wasn't even theirs—it was in Boston's hands.
In short, the Nets had lost both the present and the future. And there was no one to complain to—after all, every move had technically been legal, and they had made them willingly.
Unless something miraculous happened, Billy King would be out of a job after next season.
"Tell me who you're eyeing. Price is negotiable," Billy said with a bitter smile.
His stance was simple: since the team was already in ruins, he might as well rob Peter to pay Paul. The focus now was on collecting young players and future assets.
Their only rookie was Chris McCullough, taken 29th overall in this year's draft.
Chen Yilun paused to think. "What about Thaddeus Young? Is he available?"
"Thaddeus? Of course, he's available!"
Billy's voice brightened instantly.
As a player from the 2007 draft class, Young was right in his prime. A near-perfect role player, the kind every team wanted.
"Smart pick! He's a perfect fit for your roster. How many first-rounders are you willing to put up?" Billy asked eagerly.
"How many? Don't get greedy. The only one we've got on the shelf is the 2016 Cavs pick," Chen Yilun shot back.
"That Cavs pick? That's worthless!" Billy frowned. With LeBron and company, Cleveland would be a top contender again. At best, that pick would land at the very end of the round.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not done," Chen Yilun said with a smile. "We've got plenty of young guys. You're short on them. Take your pick—who do you want?"
A straight rookie-for-vet swap? Billy thought it over. It wasn't a bad idea. This year was already a throwaway thanks to Boston. Getting a pick and a young prospect to develop was about the best outcome he could hope for.
"What about Devin Booker? Or LaVine?"
"You really went for the best, huh?" Chen Yilun nearly rolled his eyes.
"No chance. The most I'll offer is Oubre."
Oubre? Billy thought it through. The trade actually made sense. He'd guarantee himself a first-round pick, clear Thaddeus' salary, and bring in a prospect with upside.
"How about… throwing in a little extra?" he asked cautiously.
"Take it or leave it!" Chen Yilun pretended to hang up.
"Wait, wait! No need to rush things," Billy said quickly. "Just add something symbolic so I can save face with the boss."
"Now that's better."
Satisfied, Chen Yilun stayed on the line.
A few days later, the trade hit the news:
The Nets sent Thaddeus Young to the Kings in exchange for Kelly Oubre, Cleveland's 2016 protected first-round pick, and Brooklyn's own heavily protected 2019 second-rounder.
"Finally, some real firepower!"
Coach Malone practically roared at the announcement.
His partner was brilliant in many ways, but he gambled on potential far too often. Since taking the reins last season, he had leaned heavily on rookies. They had performed well, sure, but no one could expect Chen Yilun to hit on every gamble.
Swapping potential for proven production—that was exactly in line with Malone's philosophy.
A shooter, a defender, with size, and ready to contribute right away.
That was the kind of move a playoff team should make!
"Your form's all wrong!"
Just as Malone was basking in his excitement, a sharp voice cut through the gym.
On the practice court, LaVine looked like a chastised schoolboy in front of a thin, gray-haired coach.
"Did you notice that sinking motion after you caught the ball?"
New shooting coach Chip held the ball, demonstrating as he spoke.
"Top shooters like Ray Allen also sink, sure. But you can't compare yourself to him. Ray's shot is so fluid—he's often already prepared before the catch, and sometimes his sink and jump happen simultaneously."
"You, on the other hand—catch, reset your balance, sink, then jump. That extra split second? Enough for a defender to close two or three meters. You think you'll still be open?"
Chip pulled LaVine closer and tapped his hip.
"This is what you need to train. Build strength here. Load power with your hips before the catch. Then it won't matter if you have time to sink—you'll still get the shot off."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the court, new assistant Chris Finch was drilling Porter and Richardson on defense.
"What a pair of assistants I've got!" Malone thought, pleased.
Chip's reputation as a shooting coach was already well known. Finch, though, had surprised him with his knack for teaching defense.
Watching the team's progress, Malone suddenly understood Chen Yilun's confidence in trading away Cousins.
With a group like this, they really might not need him to compete.
...
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