"The league really came down hard with that penalty, huh?"
Prince blurted it out the moment he walked through the door.
"Looks like the commissioner actually lost his temper this time."
A fifty-thousand-dollar fine might not seem like much, but that's only true for superstars. For a player still on a minimum contract, it's a huge amount of money.
Though chances were high that the Mavericks' deep-pocketed owner would pay it for him.
The part that truly hurt was the 15-game suspension. The league has clear standards for disciplinary action.
Pachulia's foul didn't reach the level of a full-on brawl, so they couldn't go as high as a 25-game ban.
Fifteen was already the maximum under that category.
While the outside world hotly debated the punishment, inside the Dallas Mavericks' front office, a short, middle-aged man was raging with helpless fury.
"This is favoritism! Pure favoritism!"
Mavericks owner Mark Cuban paced angrily around the office.
Standing across from him was head coach Rick Carlisle.
"How come we never get this kind of treatment when people take cheap shots at us? Sacramento must be their precious golden child!"
After venting for a bit, Cuban snapped again.
"I'm furious—I'm calling the league office to complain!"
"No, no, no!"
Seeing Cuban already reaching for his phone, Carlisle quickly grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Boss, you can't do that! The punishment's already been announced. Complaining won't change anything."
Carlisle could only suffer in silence when dealing with his boss's impulsive temper.
For players, Cuban's fiery attitude could be motivating—it rallied team spirit.
But to the league office? Cuban was nothing but a certified troublemaker.
A guy who calls the Commissioner's Office or the Referees' Office over every little thing? Of course they'd pick on you whenever they could.
That's why the Mavericks had often found themselves on the wrong end of officiating.
The most infamous case was the 2006 Finals against the Heat. Before the series even began, lead referee Donaghy gathered the officiating crew and openly told them to favor Miami.
And in that very Finals, the unstoppable Nowitzki ended up falling to the still-rookie-level Dwyane Wade.
"Boss, don't waste energy on this. What matters is how we adjust the rotation now that Pachulia's suspended!"
...
...
"Where are we going?"
Inside the Duke University hotel, Prince's eyes widened.
"Michigan State. We're heading to Michigan."
Chen Yilun said it casually as he packed his luggage.
"We're going there? Michigan's always been lukewarm toward us. And with how we've been bouncing around lately… boss, which player did you actually like?"
"That's the whole point."
Chen Yilun straightened up.
"If even you don't know who I'm targeting, do you think other teams can figure it out?"
Prince froze for a second—then it hit him.
"Genius! Absolute genius!"
He gave Chen Yilun a big thumbs-up.
"You may have been in the league longer than I have, but things aren't as simple as they look."
Chen Yilun patiently explained.
"Let's say there's a player I really want, but he's projected to go eighth, and I only have the tenth pick. How do I get him?"
Prince tilted his head, thought for a moment, then replied:
"Well, you'd have to trade with the team holding the eighth pick, or trade up with someone even higher to get him."
"No, no, no."
Chen Yilun wagged his finger.
"That's the worst option. Tayshaun, remember this: in the draft, you always subtract—never add."
"What does that even mean?"
Prince scratched his head, completely confused.
"The draft is basically gambling."
Seeing his confusion, Chen Yilun continued:
"Every rookie is a scratch-off lottery ticket.
High draft picks are just tickets with slightly better odds—they're not fundamentally different from low picks."
"So when drafting, never fall for the high-risk, high-reward trap. Player trades are like turning small change into big bills.
But draft picks are the opposite—no matter the quality, you can hold as many as you want. More is always better."
"So if we're not willing to pay extra assets to move up… why not push that player's draft position down instead?"
The moment he said it, Prince froze. His worldview shaken to the core.
In his mind, if ESPN projected a certain draft range, that's where a player went.
The idea that this could be manipulated hadn't even crossed his mind.
"This can be manipulated?!"
"Anywhere there are people—what can't be manipulated?"
Chen Yilun smiled lightly.
"To drop a player's projected draft slot, the best method is to stuff more guys in front of him."
"The draft is one seat per pick. Put someone ahead of him, and he naturally slides backward."
"That's exactly what we're doing right now."
After finishing his packing, Chen Yilun gestured for Prince to walk with him.
"First, we throw out enough smoke screens so no one knows who we actually like. Then we shine enough attention on certain players to draw all the scouts' eyes toward them."
"Alabama and Duke earlier were both smoke screens."
"Michigan State next is the same thing. And the players we're highlighting are all high-quality anyway—other teams would naturally like them even if we didn't show up."
"All we're doing is adding more firewood to the pile. Make the scouts think those guys deserve to be drafted higher, and then we wait behind them."
"So that's how it works!"
Prince nodded repeatedly, finally understanding.
"So boss, you already picked your guy. What we're doing now is building hype, so we can draft him later with a lower pick?"
"Exactly."
Chen Yilun nodded approvingly.
"No wonder that old fox Peja specifically named you as his successor—your instincts are sharp."
"We're basically setting the stage for those talented prospects.
They'll owe us for it later.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser