Chapter 55: 2007 Nba Draft
One day before the 2007 NBA Draft, ESPN broke the news: “Eli Xu plans to sign with Adidas, they have reached a multi-year contract worth a total of 60 million US Dollars!”
This settled the matter.
However, this price was still shocking.
Outsiders were unclear about the specific duration of Xu Ling’s contract, but anyone in the circle with some sources could find out it was 4 years for 60 million US Dollars.
What does this mean?
Adidas’s endorsement fee to Xu Ling was bigger than the 7-year, 86 million US Dollars contract that Nike gave to James in 2003.
Moreover, looking across Adidas internally, no one had a higher endorsement contract than Xu Ling; Yao Ming from the subsidiary Reebok, when he jumped from Nike back then, only signed a 10-year, 75 million US Dollars long-term deal.
For a rookie who had not yet proven himself in the NBA and was not considered to have infinite potential and shoe-selling ability like LeBron James, this was absolutely sky-high.
Criticism was inevitable.
Being envied by others was also inevitable.
What’s more, if some peers developed hostility because Xu Ling’s endorsement contract was too big, that wouldn’t be anything unusual.
Then, in the blink of an eye, draft day arrived.
That morning, Xu Ling was woken by an overseas call.
He groped for his mobile phone, didn’t check the caller ID, and answered drowsily: “Hello?”
“A Ling! Awake or not? Eaten breakfast or not?” His mother’s voice came from the phone, “Your dad now has a big business deal to discuss in Macau, very urgent, said might not be able to make it to the scene.”
Xu Ling held the mobile phone, silent for a moment.
As a traverser, his feelings for these parents in this life always carried a subtle sense of haziness. They were the closest people to this body, giving him unconditional support, but to him, they were more like the most familiar strangers he needed to dutifully care for. In the past six months, he had been fully immersed in the college season and draft preparation, and the routine few calls each month were already all the contact he could maintain.
Hearing this, he even secretly breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed he didn’t need to be distracted playing the role of a perfect son at one of the most important moments in his life.
“Mm, got it. Business is important, let Dad do his thing.” Xu Ling’s tone showed little fluctuation, “You watching at home is the same.”
“You’re alone there, be careful with everything! Eat well, sleep well! Don’t have pressure, we’re all proud of you”
Listening to the nagging reminders from the other end of the phone, a strange mix of guilt and alienation spread in Xu Ling’s heart.
He finally just softly replied: “Got it. Mom.”
After hanging up, the room fell silent again. New York outside the window was waking up; this was the biggest day of his life, and he had to face it in the best state. So, that faint sense of loss in his heart was quickly suppressed, replaced by a clearer sense of goal.
In the afternoon, Xu Ling arrived at Madison Square Garden with his agent and team members. This was the holy temple of countless basketball boys’ dreams, and also one of the league’s grandest stages each year. Outside the venue, crowds surged, fans in various team jerseys held banners, media reporters aimed long and short lenses at every slowly arriving black luxury car.
“Is it him? Eli Xu?”
“It’s Eli Xu!”
When Xu Ling stepped out of the car door, flashbulbs erupted in a chain, and noisy shouts drowned out Manhattan’s traffic noise.
Some shouted “Final Four MOP”, some called his Chinese name, others simply heckled: “Hey, Eli, are you ready to play for the Memphis Grizzlies?”
Under special guidance, Xu Ling and his agent passed through the security area into the candidates’ lounge that everyone tacitly called the “green room”. The setup inside was not luxurious: dark carpet, rows of leather chairs, a table full of water and energy bars, and a LCD TV constantly rolling ESPN live footage.
Players wore all sorts of suits, some closing eyes to rest, some softly chatting with accompanying family and friends.
When Xu Ling appeared, the green room went quiet.
As this year’s NCAA national champion, Xu Ling had beaten most of the representatives in this room.
Brandon Wright, whose pre-draft stock had fallen from top six to lottery edge, saw Xu Ling and snorted coldly, turning his head away.
“Hey, Eli!” Acie Law waved, “Over here!”
Xu Ling went over to say hi, then noticed Kevin Durant sitting right next to them.
“Is this the BIG 12 league base?” Xu Ling joked.
Durant had faced Xu Ling twice in the BIG 12 league regular season, didn’t win either, and one was a long-range three-point buzzer-beater by Xu Ling that pushed Xu Ling’s draft stock from lottery edge to top ten.
Speaking of the long-range three-point buzzer-beater
A few guys from University of Florida couldn’t sit still; Xu Ling had single-handedly shattered their dynasty dream, and now seeing this bastard, Joakim Noah was also furious.
Then, there was Oden; he also spotted Xu Ling but just smiled and nodded.
Xu Ling nodded back.
“Looks like a lot of people really don’t like you.” Durant said.
“Do you want everyone to like you?”
Xu Ling looked at Durant strangely; as a former Durant hater, he really had trouble connecting this innocent young Durant with the future online high-intensity surfer who used alt accounts to trash ex-teammates, joined the 73-win team when he couldn’t beat them and called it the hardest path, rode the championship express then left, copied Mr. Zhan’s high-profile superteam but collapsed quickly due to poor fit, immediately requested a trade whenever his team had issues to mess up a new one then demand another trade, and turned into a top troll on social media confronting all critics.
The pure Durant nodded: “Don’t you want that?”
“No, if everyone likes you,” Xu Ling teased, looking at him, “that can only mean you’re not a threat; only a dummy like Forrest Gump would be liked by everyone.”
Afterward, Xu Ling spotted Yi from China in the green room; he was very silent, completely closed off.
Xu Ling went over to say hi, and he just replied flatly.
Then, Xu Ling chose to return to his seat and quietly wait for the draft to begin.
At exactly seven o’clock in the evening, at the center of the draft stage, the lights in Madison Square Garden suddenly dimmed, then spotlights lit up, shining on the podium at the rostrum. Amid cheers and applause, David Stern in a dark suit stepped onto the stage.
The league president scanned the crowd, flashed his signature smile expertly, and his steady voice echoed through the microphone: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2007 NBA Draft, here in New York City, historic Madison Square Garden.”
“Tonight, dreams will come true. Tonight, the next generation of stars will begin their journey. For some of these young people, this is the result of years of hard work and sacrifice. For all 30 teams, this is an opportunity to shape the future.”
The site erupted in the biggest boos Xu Ling had ever heard.
Stern was used to such scenes, just smiled slightly and said: “The Portland Trail Blazers hold the 2007 first overall draft pick, now they have 5 minutes to make their choice.”
At this moment, in the green room, Greg Oden, knowing what would happen, casually asked: “Who will it be? So hard to guess.”
“Definitely not the Final Four MOP.” Finally, Noah got a chance to trash-talk Xu Ling.
This drew laughter in the green room.
Too cruel, how could they say that about the Final Four MOP?
Xu Ling glanced at Noah; since the other wanted to keep tangling, he saw no need to show goodwill.
Goodwill should be reserved for those who deserve it, like the pure little Durant like a lab rat.
As for Noah? What right did this Frenchman, stomped dead in the championship game, have to whine here?
Xu Ling feigned ease, but his retort was sharply piercing: “You’re right, after all, some decisions do require vision. Like someone who should have been the NBA number 1 draft pick last year but was infatuated with the college basketball greenhouse and chose to play another year, not only failing to defend the title but now not even in the pre-draft top five. Who might that person be?”
With that, Xu Ling gave Noah a smile: “So hard to guess.”
With Noah’s hot temper, if not for the special occasion today, he definitely would have had an offline PK with Xu Ling, but now he could only swallow the bitter pill after humiliating himself.
Then, Oden started adjusting his collar.
Stern announced from the rostrum: “2007 NBA Draft, the Portland Trail Blazers select Greg Oden from Ohio State University!”
Oden stood up, and the surrounding peers congratulated him.
Oden high-fived them one by one.
The last one to high-five Oden was Xu Ling.
“Congrats.” Xu Ling said, “Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks!” Oden replied, “See you in the NBA.”
As Oden walked toward Stern amid cheers, Trail Blazers general manager Kevin Pritchard said solemnly in an Interview: “We’re not looking for a regular season MVP, nor a rookie of the year. What we value most is the player who can lead us to the championship. I don’t mean winning in the next ten months, not that. But the one who will ultimately take us to the top.”
He painted a long march to glory. Unfortunately, the one who later truly led this team to the finish line was neither Oden nor Lillard, nor anyone so far. The road is long, and Oden ultimately failed to be the destined one on that path.
Right after the Trail Blazers unsurprisingly selected Greg Oden, David Stern returned to the front and announced that the Seattle SuperSonics with the number 2 pick had five minutes to decide.
Everyone knew the next name called would definitely be Kevin Durant.
Meanwhile, in the Memphis Grizzlies’ draft war room, a silent tension filled the air. From Jerry West calling the shots to the assistant holding his breath in the corner, everyone was on edge.
They held the third pick, theoretically already viewing Xu Ling as the sole target. But draft night is full of surprises; who could guarantee no accidents? If the Atlanta Hawks weren’t content with the fourth pick and tried to trade up ahead of them, or if Portland/Seattle made a blockbuster trade, how to respond?
Just as West furrowed his brows in thought, a phone in the war room rang sharply. The caller ID name made the air freeze—Hawks general manager Billy Knight.
“Jerry, everything smooth? Good mood today?”
West took a deep breath, picked up, tone as calm as ever: “Billy, draft night isn’t for chit-chat.”
Knight on the other end laughed easily, like old friends catching up: “Relax, Jerry, just suddenly thought you might be interested in a trade. We’re willing to use the fourth pick and two future first-round draft picks to swap for your third pick.”
West’s reaction was lightning-fast, no hesitation, voice cold as iron: “No. Absolutely not. Goodbye, Billy.”
“Click”, West decisively hung up, that resolute “no” still echoing in the room like a silent slap to Knight.
Before everyone recovered from the crisp rejection, another line rang. The assistant answered, expression turning extremely colorful, covered the mouthpiece and said to West: “Sir, it’s Isiah Thomas from the New York Knicks.”
A flicker of barely noticeable annoyance crossed West’s face, but he signaled to take it.
“Jerry! My great, legendary, Midas-touch ‘Logo Man’!” Isiah Thomas’s voice boomed like an out-of-control speaker, full of manic passion and excessive flattery, “Jerry, you’re my most admired senior, I’m forever proud of you, I want to talk a trade, I guarantee I’ll offer chips you’ll be satisfied with!”
The Smile Assassin didn’t even wait for West’s response, continuing like a bard: “Believe me, for this! The New York Knicks are willing to give everything! Listen up, Jerry, everything! Jamal Crawford! Nate Robinson! David Lee! Channing Frye! Plus our next year’s first-round pick! The year after’s first-round pick swap! 2010 first-round pick! All of this! Jerry! All! We just want your third pick! We want Eli Xu! You know? Jerry! Have you seen the divinity in him? It’s not just basketball, it’s art! The mysterious key to the East! The savior Madison Square Garden has waited thirty years for!”
To be honest, Thomas’s state made it hard not to suspect he was on something.
But West could somewhat understand Thomas’s mood.
He might be the first among NBA GMs to realize Xu Ling’s value; as early as months ago, he was trying to trade, but no one would deal with him because the Knicks really had no chips for a top-five pick this year.
Until draft day, Thomas finally went completely mad.
“Isiah,” West’s voice showed no ripple, “None of those players you mentioned are what I want. The third pick you speak of is something Memphis will never trade. Goodbye.”
Before Thomas’s manic fervor cooled, West hung up again, like brushing off dust.
He looked around; the war room was silent, everyone watching him with relaxed faces even a hint of smile—in their view, the Logo Man had effortlessly dismissed two absurd proposals, rejected two “clowns”, and solidified the path to Xu Ling.
Thomas’s mad praise elevating Xu Ling to godhood echoed like a curse in West’s ears.
“Mysterious key to the East… savior… arrival of the king”
These exaggerated words didn’t make West proud; instead, like blinding spotlights, they illuminated the deepest darkness in his heart.
If Thomas was right, if Xu Ling truly carried such immense, near-sacred potential and market value, then Memphis, this rundown little city repeatedly mocked by fate, indeed didn’t deserve him.
A few years ago, West had rejected the chance to completely change Grizzlies history for exactly such thinking.
That was the summer of 2004; F4 Lakers lost to the Pistons in the finals, OK combo irreconcilable, Kobe determined to leave, his top choice was the Memphis Grizzlies. The Grizzlies had 50 regular season wins then but collapsed in playoffs; Kobe believed he could immediately make them contenders and that West could build a great team around him.
At the time, Kobe joining the Grizzlies was just one commitment away from West.
In the end, as Grizzlies president, West told Kobe: “This isn’t a place to play ball, the Grizzlies don’t deserve you, you belong to Los Angeles forever.”
West personally pushed away the superstar within reach, because he deeply believed this small city didn’t deserve a player like Kobe.
One year earlier, before the 2003 draft lottery, all of Memphis’s hopes hung on that minuscule probability. They had to draw the number 1 draft pick due to a historical trade leftover from the 90s: if not first, even the number 2 draft pick had to be handed to the Detroit Pistons.
The result?
They drew the number 2 draft pick.
One step away, they missed LeBron James and gave away the number 2 draft pick for nothing.
That moment’s powerlessness and absurdity, like fate’s hammer blow, still chilled West’s spine.
Now, history’s shadow loomed over West again. There were no obstacles between them and Xu Ling. He firmly believed this Chinese player had all the traits to achieve greatness, yet he doubted even more deeply—did this Memphis soil really have the nutrients to nurture great athletes? Just as he doubted whether mediocre himself truly deserved this life far more absurd and glorious than childhood dreams.
Meanwhile, at the draft site, Kevin Durant was being interviewed by sideline reporter Craig Sager, smile shy yet radiant.
David Stern stepped back to the podium, opened a different envelope, and announced loudly: “2007 NBA Draft, the Memphis Grizzlies with the third pick of the first round select—Xu Ling from Texas Tech University!”
In the green room, Xu Ling stood up at the call.
He high-fived and hugged Roderick Craig beside him, then tightly hugged Leon Powell, nodded to the other rookies around, and walked steadily to the podium to embrace his moment.
The rest was just noise.
⑴West shared this story on a podcast in 2022, and thus lost all respect from Grizzlies fans.
