radicalducati Chapter 67 Common Interests
Chapter 67 Common Interests
late at night.
D'Antoni was staring blankly at the tactics board on the wall.
It was covered with defensive rotation diagrams for the next opponent, the San Antonio Spurs. The red and blue marker lines were intertwined, just like his current mood, which was in complete chaos.
Frustrated, he grabbed the eraser and ruthlessly wiped away a section—the part about interior defense.
"Damn it..."
D'Antoni muttered a curse under his breath.
As a master of the "seven-second offense" run-and-gun style, he actually didn't like heavy big men like Randolph who slowed down the pace and had slow defensive footwork.
In his ideal blueprint, the inside player should be a beast like Stoudemire, who can fly and run fast.
But as a professional coach who has been through the tough times in this league for many years, he knows better than anyone that without Randolph's 260 pounds of fat and his delicate hook shot, the Knicks' interior defense would be devoured by monsters like Duncan and Garnett.
Just hours earlier, General Manager Donnie Walsh had hinted to him on the phone: "Mike, have a big picture perspective. Endure half a season of suffering, clear out the bad contracts. When summer 2010 comes, we'll have salary cap space, and I'll bring you LeBron. Then you'll be the godfather of a dynasty."
Big picture? Future?
D'Antoni looked at the photo on the wall of himself when he first took office, full of vigor and confidence.
In a ruthless place like New York, if he can't even make the playoffs this season, or gets swept in the first round, will the New York media and his unpredictable boss Dolan really have the patience to wait until 2010?
Can I really hold on until then?
"Knock knock knock".
A gentle knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
Before he could even agree, the door was already pushed open.
Li Xiangbei walked in, carrying a bottle of red wine that looked very expensive.
"Still awake, Mike?"
……
Li Xiangbei walked straight to his desk and gently placed the bottle of red wine on it.
The label features a blue eight-pointed star – Sassicaia.
The king of wines from Tuscany, Italy.
"I heard that when you won the European Championship as coach in Milan, this was the drink you had at the celebration party." Li Xiangbei's voice was relaxed and casual, as if this were just a chat between old friends. "I think you should need a glass of this to help you sleep on this damn trade deadline night."
D'Antoni paused for a moment, his tense nerves relaxing slightly.
He looked at the bottle of wine, a hint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes.
This kid really does his homework.
"Lee." D'Antoni gave a wry smile, took two wine glasses from the cabinet, and said, "If you're here so late to buy me a drink, I'd be honored. But if you're here to plead for Zach, forget it. It's a decision from above, and there's nothing I can do about it."
Li Xiangbei pulled out the cork, and the purplish-red liquid slowly poured into the glass.
"plead?"
Li Xiangbei swirled his wine glass.
"No, Mike. I'm here to help you with the accounts."
He took a sip of his drink and looked directly into D'Antoni's eyes.
"Donnie painted you a rosy picture, saying LeBron would be there in 2010. Putting aside whether LeBron would even come to a mess like New York, you're a smart man. Do you think Dolan, with his impatient nature, his desire to see the championship parade the day after buying tickets, could tolerate the Knicks tanking for another year and a half?"
D'Antoni's hand paused slightly.
"If you agree to trade Zach this season in exchange for an expiring bad contract or draft picks, causing the team to collapse in the second half of the season and miss the playoffs, do you think that in the summer, the media and fans will criticize Downey for making a bad move, or will they criticize you for 'running out of ideas' and 'only knowing how to run and shoot and not how to win'?"
"Then you'll be the perfect scapegoat. Donnie will say, 'Look, I gave Mike the best rookie, but he still couldn't carry the team.'"
D'Antoni remained silent.
Li Xiangbei's words were like a scalpel, precisely dissecting his deepest fear—taking the blame.
In this league, coaches are always the most valuable resource.
……
Li Xiangbei stood up, walked to the tactical board that was wiped messily, picked up a marker, and drew a big question mark.
"The team wants to recruit LeBron. That's the team's biggest vision, and I understand."
Li Xiangbei turned around, leaning against the tactics board.
"But what does LeBron want? Is it money? The Knicks don't lack it, and neither do the Cavaliers. Is it space? There's space anywhere if you want to. What he wants is immediate impact players, a winning culture, and helpers who can share the pressure with him."
"Mike, try to put yourself in his shoes."
"If I were LeBron, and I saw this team trade away their core center, who averages 20+10, like garbage just to make room for others, turning them into a weak, easily exploited team in the paint, would I come here? Absolutely not. I would feel like this is a graveyard, a black hole in my career."
"Superstars only gravitate towards the strong. Only when we show the entire league the Knicks' resilience and potential this year will LeBron think, 'Wow, this team has guts, and with me on the team, it's a dynasty.'"
"So, keeping Zach isn't for my sake, nor for Zach's sake."
Li Xiangbei walked up to D'Antoni, placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and exuded a strong sense of pressure.
"It's for your resume, Mike. Even if it's for the real '2010 Plan.' You don't want to be a 'transition coach,' do you? You want to be the one who builds the dynasty, right?"
……
D'Antoni looked at the young man who was not yet 20 years old and his heart was filled with turmoil.
This isn't a rising star; he's a seasoned veteran who's been navigating the world of fame and fortune for years.
But he was persuaded.
"But..." D'Antoni sighed, expressing his final concern, "Zack's defense is too poor, he's slow, and his emotions are unpredictable. He's a destabilizing factor in the locker room."
"That's why I came."
Li Xiangbei offered his final bargaining chip, a promise that D'Antoni could not refuse.
"I will also be responsible for keeping him under control so that he won't dare to cause trouble in the locker room."
"Mike, I know you hate set plays. But I assure you, Zach won't be that black hole who just sits there dawdling with the ball. He'll be the 'finishing hammer' in your run-and-gun system."
"When our outside shooting isn't working, and when the opponent extends their defense, we need someone to go in and smash their interior defense, to disrupt their defensive formation. No one on this team can do that dirty work except him."
"He is my henchman, and also your heavy weapon."
D'Antoni remained silent for a long time.
Then he tilted his head back and drank the red wine in the glass in one gulp.
"Bang."
The wine glass was placed heavily on the table.
"At tomorrow morning's high-level meeting, I will oppose trading Zach," D'Antoni said decisively.
Li Xiangbei smiled.
He picked up the bottle and refilled D'Antoni's glass.
"Mike, there's no need to be so blunt."
Li Xiangbei blinked.
"I'm telling you... we need some 'muscle' to protect the team's cash cow (referring to Li Xiangbei himself). If I get injured, that would be the biggest loss for this team. Donnie will understand."
D'Antoni paused for a moment, then smiled helplessly.
"Li, you're a devil."
Li Xiangbei raised his glass and gently touched DeAntoni's glass to his.
"bite."
The crisp sound of glass clashing was particularly pleasant in Madison late at night.
"Honor the devil."
Li Xiangbei took a sip of wine.
"And a toast to the upcoming second half of the season."