1. Ector Troy, 14 years old. Jacksonville, FL. Height 6'2'', weight 160 lbs, wingspan 6'6''. PG.
Strengths: elite athleticism, relentless motor, rebounding guard, scoring ability, competitive fire, and flashes of playmaking. Weaknesses: inefficient shooting, turnover-prone, decision-making, defensive focus, and durability risk.
2. Novak Lazarevic, 15 years old. Leskovac, Serbia. Height 6'3'', weight 200 lbs, wingspan 6'6''. PG/SG.
Strengths: pick-and-roll savant, crafty finisher, playmaking vision, control of pace, and positional versatility. Weaknesses:conditioning and weight, lackluster athleticism, defensive liability, and immaturity.
3. Jesus Iglesia, 15 years old. Pueblo, CO. Height 6'3'', weight 165 lbs, wingspan 6'6''. SG/PG.
Strengths: elite quickness and handle, scoring machine, fearlessness, and competitive fire. Weaknesses: inefficient volume scorer, undersized defender, playmaking reluctance, stubborn, and durability risk.
4. Tyrone Mason, 15 years old. Compton, CA. Height 6'6'', weight 210 lbs, wingspan 6'9''. SF.
Strengths: two-way player, clutch scorer, toughness and work ethic, playmaking for others, and gritty leadership. Weaknesses: streaky shooter, confrontational personality, need of load management, and ball dominance.
5. Grigori Nevsky, 14 years old. Moscow, Russia. Height 6'10'', weight 200 lbs, wingspan 7'3''. SF/PF.
Strengths: 3 level scorer, switchable defender, shot blocker, competitive fire bordering psychotic intensity, playmaking upside, flashes of clutch factor. Weaknesses: durability risk, confrontational personality, ball dominance, and pressure magnet.
6. Aliir Deng, 15 years old. Juba, South Sudan. Height 7'1'', weight 220 lbs, wingspan 7'7''. C.
Strengths:rim protector, rebounding, strong motor, defensive anchor, physical intimidation. Weaknesses: offensive limitations bordering liability, lackluster dribbling, on ball and off ball speed, and durability risk.
7. Jean-Batiste Biha, 16 years old. Muyinga, Burundi. Height 7'3'', weight 260 lbs, wingspan 8'0''. C.
Strengths: elite size, solid frame, rim protection, rebounding presence, paint scoring, and physical intimidation. Weaknesses: limited skillset, on ball speed, conditioning and stamina, and durability risk.
~~~~~
The meeting room felt emptier than it should have. Seven names on the list. Seven kids out of the hundreds they'd scouted, tested, and begged to show up. Erik Kuhlmann sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable – calm, but edged with something close to disappointment.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, whistling low: "Damn. How many invites did we send out?"
"A couple hundred," said Coach K flatly, arms crossed. "Plenty thought it was a scam."
Michiko shifted uncomfortably, tapping a pen against her notebook. "So, forgive me, but… I've never managed a sports team and never recruited any athletes, and we just sifted through, what, thousands of kids in a few weeks? I have no idea who these seven even are. I mean, apart from the fact they're all freakishly tall for their age. Even I can see that."
Marcus turned to her. "You watch NBA?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Alright, then you'll get this. First kid – Ector Troy. Mini Westbrook. Freak athlete, fast and explosive."
Michiko's eyebrows rose. "Then why isn't he already with a top program?"
Marcus smirked, but it was Daniel who cut in. "Because he's from Jacksonville. Miami's evil twin. Nice weather and shit, but crime, murder rate and gang activity are through the roof. Kids from there are especially violent. So… Well, let's just say he's a product of his environment."
"Product how?"
Marcus shrugged. "Got kicked off his old team for fighting."
Daniel corrected him, voice low. "Not fighting. He beat up his principal. Rumors say he's a gang banger."
Michiko's jaw dropped. "And you still invited him?"
Kuhlmann's face didn't change. "Wo Chaos ist, da ist Energie." He met Michiko's stare. "Where there's chaos, there's energy. The trick is to give it direction. Talent like his doesn't show up twice."
Silence stretched before she cleared her throat. "Fine. What about the rest? Are they all this… unhinged?"
"More or less," said Daniel, but Coach K raised a hand to take over.
"Novak Lazarevic. His father used to play basketball, but decided to switch careers and enlisted in the Yugoslav wars. The only thing he got was losing his leg in NATO bombings. Not the most stable family. But the boy – he's clever. Die Jugoslawische Schule," he said softly. "They teach basketball like chess. Always three moves ahead."
Dr. Lang snorted. "And out of all the kids here, this chunky boy is the healthiest. I like him a lot, just because I will probably see him the least."
Coach K moved on. "Aliir Deng. Family survived genocide. Jean-Batiste Biha is from Burundi. Even God forgets about Burundi all the time. Iglesia, from Pueblo, Colorado. Parents are illegals. No AAU, no exposure, plays streetball. Mason's from Compton. Also huge trouble."
"Did he beat up his principal too?" Dr. Lang asked dryly.
"No," said the coach. "Worse. He enforces discipline by beating up his own teammates. Many quit rather than share a locker room with him."
Marcus let out a low laugh. "He's fifteen, six-six, two-ten. Built like a tank. Hell, he's just a couple inches shorter than me."
Coach K's stare cut across the table. "Now you see why he's worse news than a gang banger."
"I think I do," Michiko whispered, looking genuinely rattled.
"Then there's the Russian boy. Nevsky." Daniel tilted his head. "Wonder how he fits into this circus."
Coach K's tone shifted – less coach, more historian. "His grandfather's Sergei Nevsky. Does that mean anything to you?"
The table fell quiet. Faces blank. Except Daniel's. His eyes narrowed, then widened. "No way. That Nevsky? Hall of Famer?"
"You aren't wrong," said Coach K. "I played against him. Back when I was still in East Germany, before the wall came down. Toughest bastard I ever saw. First Soviet player to nearly join the NBA, until Brezhnev killed the deal. A couple of gold medals in the Olympics against team USA. A legend."
Michiko leaned forward. "And his grandson? What's he doing here?"
"Because Europe hates him," Coach K answered without hesitation. "His grandfather coaches CSKA. Nepotism, favoritism, politics – the boy's surrounded by it. But don't mistake him for soft. He's an orphan. Sergei raised him hard." He paused, eyes narrowing. "Skill-wise? Best kid here. Personality?" He let out a tired breath.
Daniel frowned. "What do you mean?"
Coach K's voice went cold. "Slovenia. Under-16s. Their golden boy crossed Russia's point guard so bad the boy went down injured. While everyone was crowding around, young Nevsky helped him up. Then punched him until the refs dragged him off. Called him, quote, 'the first human piece of shit that was made from glass,' and said his mother should be hanged for giving birth to him."
The room froze. The words hung heavy.
Michiko finally broke the silence, voice thin. "We are so fucked."
"No," Marcus said, unexpectedly calm. "The talent's real. Yeah, the kids are all messed up. But that's why we're here. To push 'em the right way. And if we are able to do that, hell, sky is the limit."
Kuhlmann's stern expression cracked into the faintest smile. "That's why I love you, Marcus."
Marcus grinned. "Damn, Coach, if I'd played basketball instead of football, under a wise old mentor like you, I'd be in the league right now."
Coach K's eyes narrowed. "Boy, now you're doing too much."
The room laughed nervously, but no one forgot the weight of the roster sitting on that list. Seven names. Seven futures. Seven risks.