021: Catalyst or Obstacle? (Please continue reading!)

Cameron Anthony was picked second overall, and Melo smiled brightly, having long packed his bags for Detroit.

The moment the Cleveland Cavaliers won the first overall pick, the first selection was set.

And in Melo’s eyes, the second pick was also decided.

He had never imagined falling out of the top two.

He walked onstage and shook hands with David Stern, confidence radiating from the young man’s face.

He knew he was about to make history—the first player ever to win an NCAA championship in his rookie college year and an NBA championship in his rookie pro season.

The Pistons had been swept by the Nets in last season’s Eastern Conference Finals; the world knew that team lacked a go-to scorer. Now, they had one.

Fans everywhere cheered, believing LBJ and Melo would usher in a new era.

Or perhaps, it wouldn’t be just their era alone.

The live broadcast cut to Darko Milicic, the handsome blond teenager with earrings and sunglasses, wearing a displeased expression.

Don’t get it wrong—he wore sunglasses not to look cool, but to hide the long scar from stitches above his brow.

He had every reason to be unhappy; he had expected to be picked second.

Darko had been privately trained many times by the Pistons; Joe Dumars never shied away from publicly praising him, even saying on camera, “That kid is better than Dirk.”

But now, all that was just a bubble.

Almost uncontrollably, Darko recalled that Chinese player’s face.

He blamed Lynch for everything.

If it weren’t for that bastard, he’d be the one shaking hands with David Stern now!

At third overall, the Denver Nuggets selected freshman star Chris Bosh from Georgia Tech.

The fourth pick, the Raptors, took Chris Kaman—the last hope for a native American white center. Many fans thought he was German, but he was born and bred under the Stars and Stripes. In 2008, to play in the Olympics, he acquired German citizenship through his great-grandfather but didn’t speak a word of German.

At fifth, Pat Riley chose Dwyane Wade.

Darko’s hands and feet grew cold; he never imagined falling out of the top five.

Only at sixth overall did Elgin Baylor’s Los Angeles Clippers finally pick him.

When Darko stood, his facial muscles seemed frozen by a Siberian chill, his smile stiffer than a box princess seeing a lecherous guest.

ESPN commentator Jeff Van Gundy also mentioned Lynch: “Darko’s expected position was definitely higher; he might be the player with the biggest drop. And his slide wasn’t because of workouts. From what I know, his workouts were perfect. The reason for his drop is a young man now far away on the Iberian Peninsula. Have you heard of Lynch? He’s only 17 and already plays for a powerhouse like Real Madrid.”

Beside him, Mike Brine laughed: “Maybe some haven’t heard the name yet, but by this time next year, he’ll be a household name.”

Darko’s drop to sixth not only changed his own history but altered the entire NBA’s course.

The question “What if the Pistons had chosen Melo second?” became reality on this timeline.

Over a decade later, almost all members of that championship Pistons team agreed—if they had picked Melo, they would have been better.

Chauncey Billups said, “If we had picked Melo, we might have won three straight championships, and LeBron James might never have established himself in the league, maybe even leaving Cleveland earlier.”

Richard Hamilton shared a similar view.

“Some say Melo is a tactical black hole, too ball-hogging and poor on defense. But I say, if he’d come to Detroit from the start, we wouldn’t have let him develop those habits.

You know, when I came from Washington to Detroit, I wasn’t a great defender either. But seeing Ben Wallace on the court, seeing everyone’s defensive commitment, that team culture changed me—and it would have changed Melo too.

Maybe if Melo had been on the team, I wouldn’t have started, or Tayshaun wouldn’t have. But for that team, we didn’t care.

So if we’d picked Melo, we could’ve won at least two championships.”

It’s hard to find anyone who knows that Pistons team better than Chauncey Billups and Richard Hamilton, so their speculation carries weight.

Darko Milicic’s draft position altered not only his own fate.

It might also change Cameron Anthony, the Detroit Pistons, Tim Duncan, even LeBron James.

And it all started with Lynch.

Before even entering the league, Lynch had already shifted the timeline’s direction, and his influence was growing.

***

Teodosic watched as Darko donned the Clippers cap and whistled, “Even the Darko you crushed can go sixth? Ha, he’s worthless.”

“Looks like you’re definitely the top pick next year, Mr. Lynch,” replied the butler, Valverde Rojas.

“It’s not that simple, Alfred.” Because the butler looked so much like the one from the Batman animated series, Lynch nicknamed him Alfred. “I can’t deny my stock is high now, but if I mess up in La Liga, my value will plummet. I don’t want to be the second Darko.”

Lynch was clear-headed and never let his guard down.

As the first round wound down, Alfred glanced at the digital clock on the TV stand; red numbers read 23:44.

He collected the teacups from the table and stood before the two boys far from home: “It’s about time for bed if you want to keep up the early morning runs tomorrow. By the way, what do you want for breakfast?”

“The usual—milk toast and avocado. Thanks, Alfred.”

“No need to thank me. Good night, young gentlemen.”

“Good night.”

Thanks to Alfred’s careful care, Lynch and Teodosic’s offseason went smoothly.

Lynch was still gaining weight daily and tirelessly practicing his jump shot.

His workload worried the Real Madrid trainers, but every checkup came with the same reassurance from the team doctor: “Don’t worry about our Golden Tower.”

AC Green’s superhuman talent gave Lynch enormous advantage; whether gaining weight or increasing training, Lynch could go all out.

Sometimes Lynch wondered how explosive it would be if AC Green met Tom Thibodeau.

Of course, AC Green was durable but not superhuman. Excessive training and weight gain risked injury.

Too aggressive meant sidelining; too cautious yielded no progress.

Pushing the edge of limits like Lynch was the smart choice.

While Lynch and Teodosic trained, Real Madrid kept recruiting.

Julio Lamas spent a huge transfer fee to bring in the team’s star forward, Antonios Fotsis, from Greek powerhouse Panathinaikos.

Fotsis had briefly played in the NBA as a second-round pick in 01-02 but dominated the Greek league after returning to Europe. Before heading to the NBA, he helped his team win the EuroLeague championship.

Panathinaikos initially resisted, with coach Zeljko Obradovic bluntly saying, “Real Madrid is delusional. They can’t always get whatever they want!”

But when Julio Lamas produced 4.5 million euros, the tune changed to, “Which flight does Antonios take to Madrid?”

While 4.5 million euros might be trivial in European football, in basketball it was an irresistible sum.

That’s European basketball—money talks.

A few days later, the team’s second non-EU player joined: Julio signed Luis Block, the 185 cm combo guard picked 42nd in the 1999 NBA draft by the Timberwolves.

Though drafted in ’99, Block was cut after preseason and never played an official NBA game.

But in Europe, his performance was outstanding; after college, he played one season in Verona before being recruited by Serie A powerhouse Milan. In 01-02, he averaged 24.9 points per game, becoming the league’s top scorer.

After moving to La Liga last season, he remained impressive and led the league in three-pointers.

So Julio Lamas paid handsomely to bring him in as the team’s “small foreign player.”

However, Block had a flaw—almost all teammates agreed he was arrogant and difficult to get along with.

That likely explained why, despite his talent, he changed teams frequently.

Block’s arrival posed a new challenge for Lynch and Teodosic: how to share ball possession with a demanding, ball-needy teammate?

Would Block be a catalyst or an obstacle to Lynch’s quest for the top pick?

That would only be revealed once the new season began.

Days passed, and finally, the new season training camp opened.

The two boys arrived by bike at the Raimundo Saporta Training Center; the usually quiet outdoor parking lot had turned into a steel jungle.

Lynch propped one foot on the ground, eyes scanning rows of Mercedes S-Class and Audi A8s—these precise German engineering marvels gleamed coldly in the morning light, much like their owners’ composed style on the court.

Undoubtedly, these cars belonged to their Real Madrid teammates.

Most players favored these sober, traditional German luxury cars, sharply contrasting the flashy sports cars common in the NBA.

Just as Teo’s fingertips brushed a BMW 7 Series chrome door handle, the air was torn by an engine’s roar.

A fiery red blur burst into the parking lot; the Ford GT’s broad tires left scorch marks on the asphalt. This American muscle car was like a rock musician crashing a symphony hall—strikingly out of place among the composed German luxury cars.

“Melo dropped in a pile of salty rice dumplings,” Lynch teased with a whistle.

No doubt, the car’s owner was Luis Block—the legendary flamboyant, arrogant, and difficult American guard.

After parking, the butterfly doors opened. A cigarette butt was tossed out, then extinguished under the tip of a designer shoe.

Then the owner finally stepped out.

A small black man wearing diamond-studded sunglasses casually closed the door.

Seeing Lynch and Teodosic, he didn’t smile in greeting but wore a hostile, “keep out” scowl, like a rapper playing tough in a music video.

As he approached, a thumb-thick gold chain swung with his steps.

Though only 185 cm tall, his cocky expression commanded presence.

Honestly, if not in Madrid, Lynch felt this guy might pull out a weapon shouting, “Lend me some cash.”

Block’s gaze flicked between Teo and Lynch and then around.

Because they were in the parking lot, and the Ford GT’s engine was loud, many team staff noticed the three newcomers and stopped to watch.

Seeing the crowd, Block tilted his head, removed his sunglasses, and, flaring his nostrils at them, said, “Yo, meet me in the gym inside the training center. I know you two have some rep, but we better set some ground rules. A team can only have one boss, right?”

“Set rules?” Lynch laughed. Julio Lamas could set the rules as head coach, but what right did you have?

What, you gonna jump up and knee me in the kneecap if I say no?

Perfect timing—Lynch wanted to make one thing clear: he wasn’t here to assist anyone.

Next season, Teo needed the ball, Block needed the ball, and Lynch needed the shots.

How to divide the cake required clear standards.

“Alright, let’s talk in the gym.”

They entered the gym, avoiding prying eyes. Block clicked the lock behind them.

He finally removed his sunglasses, expression serious.

“Lynch, right?”

“Uh-huh. What rules you got? I’m listening.”

“Listen up,” Block leaned close.

“Bro, there were too many people outside earlier. I’m begging you!

If this season you protect my back like you protect Teo, cover me like a mother bear, I’ll pass to you like the slickest street player in Madrid!

Damn, those damn North American scouts always say my defense sucks, so I can’t make the NBA. Is it really me? It’s the big guys behind me who are dumb! I leave men open, and they don’t cover?!

They only see me taking a half-step slower on defense, but they don’t see me taking a huge step faster on offense! Every time my teammates look up, I’m already at the front!

Bottom line, only you can help me, bro. I know how good your defense is; I know you can cover the whole half-court! You’re my bulletproof vest, protecting my heart! Whether I make it back to the NBA depends on you. Please!”

After speaking, Block took Lynch’s hand and kissed the back of it.

At that moment, even with AC Green’s iron frame, Lynch nearly doubled over in pain—his closest call to injury yet.

But one thing was certain: Block wouldn’t be a problem.

He would push Lynch hard on the road to becoming the top draft pick.

(Thanks to readers 20220416110602124, Seven Night Snow, iz丶one, Boss Mei No Coal, 20241220232826528, Call Me Wolf Master, Pegasus zxz, Sitting by the Sea Watching Sunrise, Cong Rong, and others for their generous support, deeply grateful!)