018: The Perfect Stage (Please continue reading!)

Misko Raznatovic swirled his whiskey glass, the sound of the ice cubes clinking against the glass echoing like a death knell for his peers.

He stared into the amber liquid, unable to help but sigh over Mark Konstein’s predicament.

That guy had always been extremely cautious.

To preserve the mystique surrounding Darko Milicic, he refused to participate in any joint tryouts.

To prevent Darko Milicic from being defeated, he shielded Darko from any contact with the 2003 draft rookies as if guarding a virgin’s grindstone, refusing to let him attend any tryouts where other 2003 draft players were present.

It wasn’t that he lacked confidence in Darko Milicic; he simply didn’t want any surprises in the draft.

He wanted to ensure Darko Milicic would solidly enter the top three picks.

Mark Konstein’s caution was entirely understandable. NBA history was full of players once highly touted by the media and fans whose draft stock plummeted after tryouts.

But unfortunately, basketball wasn’t filmmaking. You couldn’t stage everything you wanted in a Hollywood studio, nor could you forever control the script’s direction.

You never know when or by whom your player will be defeated.

He never could have imagined that his prodigy would crash and burn on home soil in Serbia—and with devastating consequences.

According to Misko Raznatovic, Darko’s draft stock had already been affected, shaking many teams.

If Darko Milicic couldn’t handle a kid a year younger than him who had only played one season of youth basketball, how could he be expected to compete with the likes of Kevin Garnett, Tim Duncan, or Karl Malone?

Moreover, Darko Milicic revealed a glaring flaw: an overly volatile temper.

Although Lynch nearly beat him half to death, everyone knew Darko had started the conflict himself. His fiery temper and arrogant pride were impacting his draft position.

Never underestimate how much the NBA values a player’s background and personality. If a scout’s report notes “never attends teammates’ gatherings,” any team considering drafting him must weigh the risk of a potential “locker room bomb.”

Whether Darko Milicic’s temper and rebellious nature would cause trouble for a team was surely under evaluation by many NBA franchises now.

Unlike Darko Milicic’s falling stock, Lynch had successfully stood on the shoulders of giants this time.

After defeating Darko Milicic, his popularity in the United States skyrocketed.

Besides Sports Illustrated already labeling him the projected first pick in 2004, TNT began discussing him as well.

Kenny Smith doubted Lynch would even enter the lottery, pointing out he hadn’t shown outstanding skills in youth leagues and jokingly promised to wear a wedding dress and kiss Barkley’s behind if Lynch made the 2004 lottery.

Charles Barkley was ecstatic: “Starting today, buddy, I’m washing my behind three times a day and giving it a facial, trying to give you the best experience!”

Though Kenny and Barkley were joking, at least Lynch had sparked discussion in North America.

But this also meant the next twelve months were critical for Lynch; the real test was just beginning.

Lynch was no longer an unknown. Every game from now on would have scouts from 29 teams scrutinizing him.

He would live under the microscope of 29 teams, every technical detail recorded in hundreds of scout reports—like the transparent ice cube spinning in the glass, crystal clear and impossible to hide.

Lynch was like an unopened gift; everyone had high expectations.

The scouts’ job over the next year was to unwrap that gift layer by layer and see if this beautifully wrapped present lived up to the hype.

No one wants to unwrap a beauty only to find she’s far less than expected—that would break the spirits of every NBA team instantly.

Therefore, Lynch had to prove he was the genuine article.

He needed to demonstrate it on the biggest stage.

Only then could he crush the competition and become the top draft pick.

“My dear child,” Misko murmured to himself as he gazed at the sun outside the airplane window, “the next year will feel like playing basketball stripped naked. But that’s normal—the birth of a superstar is always under the gaze of the world.”

At that moment, Misko Raznatovic sat aboard a flight to Belgrade.

Twelve hours earlier, Lynch had called for him.

He knew he would play a crucial role in the coming year’s journey to stardom.

---

Lynch stared at the system interface displaying “62 talent points,” frowning.

He was close to purchasing another role player’s talent in the market.

Of course, 62 points weren’t enough, but what if it were 262?

After completing the goal of [Defeat Luka Modric and Darko Milicic], Lynch received a new objective.

[At 30, you dominated amateur leagues, regaining your old form. It’s time to return to the professional stage! It’s tough, but don’t be scared by the difficulty!]

[New Goal: Become a professional player.]

[Reward: 200 talent points.]

Once this next goal was achieved, Lynch would accumulate 262 talent points, enough to freely select items from the market.

The generous reward made sense since it was almost impossible for a 30-year-old to return to professional basketball—a tough feat indeed.

But for Lynch, who was almost 17... how tough could it be?

All he had to do was sign a loan contract with another club’s first team, and he would instantly become a professional.

So those 200 talent points were practically guaranteed, just waiting to be granted.

This also meant Lynch could strengthen himself once more before entering the professional basketball world.

Regarding the loan arrangements, FMP Club, as promised by Djurovic, showed great cooperation.

Although they could have kept Lynch to return and play domestic leagues eight months later, loaning him out meant losing the prodigy for a whole year—or perhaps forever.

Yet FMP still agreed to let Lynch venture out. They supported their homegrown talent going abroad and didn’t demand that the NBA team selecting Lynch build them a stadium or anything else a year later.

Also up for loan was Teodosic.

Since FMP’s first team was saturated with guards, even if Teo was promoted to the senior squad, he would struggle for sufficient playing time.

To accelerate his growth, the club decided to loan him out to gain real match experience.

Currently, Teo had received many offers, mostly from Serbian clubs, including the two giants Red Star and Partizan.

Greek powerhouse Olympiacos also submitted a loan request—they wouldn’t miss this “trial before marriage” opportunity.

Teo should have been happy to showcase himself on a better stage.

Yet he had been frowning for days.

“Damn, why won’t any team take both of us on loan at the same time?”

Teo wanted to keep playing alongside Lynch, but Serbian clubs naturally wouldn’t target Lynch; no one would loan a player who couldn’t get any playing time.

As for Olympiacos, even though their scout noted “Lynch is a player you can’t miss,” the team still seemed to feel they didn’t need reinforcement on the frontcourt.

The biggest obstacle was that Lynch didn’t have a “European passport.”

European basketball, like football, doesn’t restrict players from other European countries playing in their leagues, but each team’s “non-EU slots” are very precious.

In Serbia, Lynch had no problem since he came from a local youth academy.

His Serbian training background granted him local “passport” status, but if he moved to another European league, he would occupy a non-EU slot.

Most European leagues allow two non-EU slots per team; the EuroLeague allows three.

And those slots are generally reserved for strong American imports.

Every year, numerous American players flood into European leagues. They may not make it in the NBA, but they are formidable forces in Europe.

So stop complaining about why Chinese players rarely try Europe.

It’s not a matter of courage—they simply aren’t valued.

Non-EU slots are precious, and unless a Chinese player is exceptionally strong, no team will waste one on him.

Therefore, very few Chinese players receive invitations from European teams.

Under these restrictions, every team wanting Lynch had to seriously consider whether to use a non-EU slot on a 17-year-old kid.

Lynch also wanted to play with Teo, but he wasn’t as anxious as Teo.

In this matter, their personalities seemed reversed: Teo was frantic, Lynch calm and composed.

Lynch’s confidence came from Misko Raznatovic.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Misko will handle it—he’s the best network weaver in all of Europe.”

After meeting Misko last week, Lynch gave him a final condition—to try to place both him and Teo in a club competing in that country’s top league with some exposure.

It didn’t have to be a powerhouse, but it couldn’t be an insignificant team.

If that could be arranged, not only would Lynch sign with him, but Teo would too.

“Do you really trust that guy in the expensive suit?” Teo doubted.

“Leave the professional matters to the professional. Mr. Misko is the most renowned basketball agent in Europe. If he can’t handle this small matter, why would he bring me across the ocean to the NBA?”

Just then, Wu Lan, still dripping wet, burst out of the kitchen holding a phone.

“Mr. Misko’s call!”

Lynch took the phone, his mood calm. He held the receiver to his ear, but a huge roar of noise blasted through.

“Mr. Misko, is there good news? Why is it so noisy over there?”

“I’m at a game, so it’s a bit loud. Listen, Lynch, is Teo next to you?”

“Of course.” Lynch glanced at his restless friend.

“Good. Is there an ashtray on the table?”

“Yes.”

A subconscious fan of the “Infernal Affairs” series, Lynch felt the next line would be, “Pick it up and smash his head.”

Of course, Misko didn’t say that; he only said, “Put the phone near the ashtray and put it on speaker.”

Lynch obeyed, Wu Lan held her breath clutching her apron, and Teo’s fingers nearly crushed the wooden chair’s armrest.

The noisy background made them even more nervous, afraid to miss any key information.

Lynch felt dumbfounded—why make such an important call at a noisy game?

Then, Misko Raznatovic, like a president announcing a victorious war, shouted over the noise with pride:

“Forget the damn Adriatic fishpond, kids! I’m taking you to the real shark tank to surf! We’re going to the EuroLeague! That’s right—me, Lynch, and Teo—we! I found a top European club willing to take both of you at once, and I’m sending you to the perfect stage!”

Wu Lan placed her hand on her chest and exhaled deeply; Teo’s stiff spine finally relaxed.

The Adriatic League was great, but don’t forget it was nicknamed the “Little European League,” far inferior in scale and level to the authentic EuroLeague.

The EuroLeague was the world’s highest-level, most lucrative basketball league outside the NBA.

Teams qualified to play in the EuroLeague were guaranteed influence and exposure.

“So, which club is it?” Lynch asked.

Misko Raznatovic didn’t answer directly but held the phone up so Lynch could hear the thunderous cheers from the game.

“Hala Madrid!!!”