Chapter 348: A Flood of Contenders (3)
“At most two second-round picks. I think that’s a fair price.”
As he spoke, Kupchak looked at Mr. Jordan. “Boss, maybe I should handle the rest. I’m more experienced with this kind of thing.”
When Kupchak took over the Hornets, he was already well aware of Mr. Jordan’s legendary career. That was exactly why, whenever Mr. Jordan showed even the slightest intention of making the call himself, Kupchak would step in to stop him.
“Alright,”
Mr. Jordan said almost without hesitation.
“These kinds of things are better left to the professionals. I won’t get involved.”
With that, he walked over to the sofa, lit a cigar, and started chatting casually with the others.
After organizing his thoughts, Kupchak dialed Chen Yilun’s number.
“Mitch! Why is it you calling me?”
Chen Yilun’s trademark laughter came through the phone. “Shouldn’t Mr. Jordan be the one calling?”
To be honest, Chen Yilun was a bit disappointed that it was Kupchak reaching out. If Mr. Jordan had handled it personally, Chen Yilun might have had a chance to squeeze out a little more.
Kupchak, after all, was a veteran general manager in the league. When it came to negotiation tactics and controlling the bottom line, he was top-tier.
Chen Yilun knew he wasn’t likely to gain much from him.
“Things like this are better handled by people on our level,”
Kupchak said calmly. “I figure you’re not interested in the players on our roster anyway. So let’s be straightforward—when it comes to future assets, we can only offer some second-round picks. A first-round pick is not happening.”
Kupchak understood that when negotiating with someone like Chen Yilun, sincerity was the ultimate weapon. So he blocked off every angle right from the start, leaving Chen Yilun no room to counter.
A true old fox.
The moment Chen Yilun heard this, he knew there was no chance of digging out anything substantial.
“Mitch,”
Chen Yilun said unwillingly. “This is still a lottery pick. You’re not even willing to give up a single first-rounder. That puts me in a tough position.”
“That can’t be helped,”
Kupchak replied, completely unfazed. “If you were holding a top-three pick, I wouldn’t argue. But this is just the eighth pick. It’s really not worth another first-rounder for us.”
“What I mean is—”
Seeing his first approach fail, Chen Yilun immediately switched tactics.
“We’re all working for someone, right? I still have to report upstairs. If my boss finds out I only got two second-round picks in return, that’s hard for me to explain.”
“What kind of ‘working man’ are you?”
Kupchak laughed. “You actually own shares. And you’re trying to play the sympathy card with me?”
Seeing Chen Yilun start to give ground, Kupchak sensed the opening.
“Let’s stop dancing around it,”
Kupchak said, glancing at the TV where Adam Silver had just appeared on the stage. “Time’s tight. I’ll give you a final offer.”
He then adjusted his proposal.
“You want a first-round pick? Fine. A 2020 first-round pick, top-25 protected. If it’s protected, it converts into two second-round picks in 2021 and 2022.”
In reality, Kupchak’s offer was still essentially two second-round picks.
Given the Hornets’ current situation, what were the odds they’d be a top-five team in 2020? The chances were probably lower than him getting abducted by aliens.
“Top-25 protection is a bit much,”
Chen Yilun said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “How about top-20? At least give me a little suspense. Top-20—can we do that?”
Kupchak thought it over. Could his team even crack the top ten in 2020?
That was ridiculous. With the Hornets in their half-dead state, they’d be lucky to win more than 41 games by then. Top ten was out of the question.
With that in mind, Kupchak nodded. “Alright, we’ll do it your way. Let’s move quickly—the draft has already started.”
“OK!”
Chen Yilun hung up and went to prepare the trade.
Just as the two teams were finalizing things, Adam Silver stepped onto the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,”
Adam Silver paused briefly before speaking. “This year is especially exciting. Welcome to the 2018 NBA Draft!”
One by one, the sharply dressed prospects stared eagerly at the dazzling stage. Tonight, everything about their future would be decided right there.
“The Phoenix Suns, with the first overall pick in the first round, select—Deandre Ayton, from the University of Arizona!”
The dark, powerfully built Ayton stood up, hugging his family amid cheers. He took the Suns cap handed to him by staff, put it on, then walked up to the stage to shake hands with Adam Silver.
“This Ayton looks really good,”
Grunfeld said enviously as he watched. “That kid just looks tough. I hear he’s got a solid mid-range shot too. If he’s developed properly, he could become the small-ball era’s ideal answer at center.”
His comment immediately drew agreement from several people.
Only Chen Yilun looked like he wanted to say something but held back.
Ayton’s appearance was certainly misleading—anyone would think he was the prototype of a dominant interior force.
Who knew what happened later for him to end up becoming a fluid, finesse-oriented center?
While things were lively outside, inside the Hawks’ private room, the atmosphere was tense. Even after league officials urged them multiple times, the Hawks—holding the second overall pick—still hadn’t submitted their choice.
“Are we really taking Luka Dončić?”
Hawks general manager Travis Schlenk frowned as he looked at Mike Budenholzer. “You know what kind of public pressure we’ll face if we draft him, right?”
If Budenholzer didn’t have such deep roots within the Hawks organization—despite stepping down from his role as team president, the franchise was still very much under his influence—Schlenk wouldn’t have had to weigh his opinion so heavily.
From a business standpoint, both Bagley and Jaren Jackson Jr. clearly offered stronger market appeal than Dončić.
Dončić’s main fanbase was in Europe. Commercially speaking, it had little direct connection to the league.
After listening to Schlenk, Mike Budenholzer remained silent for a long time. Finally, he clenched his teeth and spoke.
“Do it my way. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take responsibility.”
In the end, Mike Budenholzer chose to trust his junior.
Watching the league staff take away their submission form, Budenholzer let out a long sigh and sank back into the sofa.
“I really hope your instincts are right, Yilun.”
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