Pre-Contact (2)
Final score: 93-79 victory.
By beating Zvezda, we improved to 12-6 in the Adriatic League, pulling ahead of Sedevita into fifth and climbing to fourth place ourselves.
The locker room was in full party mode after our five-game winning streak.
"We just gave those Zvezda punks a real beating!"
"Bet they look like shit right now, haha!"
Zvezda was one of the teams splitting fan loyalty in Serbia with Partizan. Beating a squad like that by 14 points meant something to the players.
The star of the game... on paper, it was me, but symbolically, it was Subin. He played 18 minutes, dropping 11 points on 4/6 FG and 3/4 from three, plus 2 assists and 2 boards in a monster performance. Everyone was giving him props, and Subin was responding with a slightly flushed, excited grin.
This should lock me in as a bench rotation guy for a while.
I'd become a piece of the team puzzle, after all.
Clap clap! Coach Milojevic clapped his hands to get our attention.
"Save the celebrating for later. For this win to mean something real, we gotta hold onto that spot till the end. Stay sharp!"
"Yes, sir!"
"And... Jokic, Michic, Dangubic, Seojun. Stick around after and hit the gym for some light training."
I wondered why the sudden post-game workout, but it turned out to be something else entirely—a meeting with the front office staff.
GM Goran Kakic greeted us with a friendly smile. The players treated him casually since he'd been a player on this Mega Bemax squad up until last season.
"Kakic! You coming to the party tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it. Night we crushed Zvezda and all... assuming we wrap this up quick."
Kakic scanned our faces, then got serious.
"Your minds are still set on entering the NBA Draft, right?"
We all nodded silently.
Michic, Jokic, and Dangubic were all planning to throw their hats in for this year's NBA Draft. Players outside the NBA—unlike Americans—automatically became draft-eligible at 22, but guys like me could apply for early entry. These three had decided on early entry.
But my situation was different.
Michic shrugged.
"If I'm first-round, I'll go. Second-round? I'll look elsewhere."
"No option to re-sign with us?"
"Sorry, but the money's not there, and no EuroLeague? Not appealing."
"...Got it. Dangubic, you?"
Dangubic answered right away.
"Same deal. First-round, NBA. Otherwise, I stay in Europe—but no re-sign here."
That was why NBA teams hesitated to draft European players. If you didn't land first-round rookie scale money, staying in Europe made more sense. Miss out on the guy, and your pick evaporates. Sure, there were rights in perpetuity—he'd have to join that team if he ever came to the NBA—but it rarely played out that way.
"Jokic, you?"
Jokic shrugged too.
"First or second round, I'll do one more year here then head to the States."
"No re-sign either way, huh."
Kakic squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them.
"I'm prepared to make you four a groundbreaking offer."
"...?"
"League-top weekly salaries. Partizan or Zvezda level. Think about re-signing?"
A ripple of surprise hit the group.
Kakic pressed on.
"Our new sponsor, Rex, floated it. If you four stay, EuroLeague isn't a pipe dream. That'd make the salaries doable. What do you say?"
The players seemed to like it. Our league standing and play were strong right now.
But not for me.
Sorry to kill the vibe, but...
I raised my hand casually.
"Sorry, count me out. My goal's the NBA, not EuroLeague."
"Hm."
Kakic looked like he'd expected it.
And then...
Michic shook his head too.
"If that guy's staying, maybe. Otherwise, no dice. EuroLeague's a stretch."
Jokic and Dangubic nodded in agreement, turning it down.
I felt bad for sparking it, but Kakic sighed deeply and nodded, like he'd seen it coming.
"Fair enough. We'll handle the press for you. Full support."
He shuffled out with heavy steps.
I turned to Michic.
"What'd he mean by prepping the press?"
"Big draft entry announcement. Gets the NBA's eyes on us."
"Weren't scouts already watching?"
"Not at this level."
"Makes sense... Guess the May draft combine gets huge then."
Sudden silence around me.
"...What?"
Michic looked incredulous.
"You really know nothing? Combine's invite-only."
"Yeah, I know. But we can get invites, right? Figured I would."
More silence. Then laughter erupted.
"Slim chance. It's mostly NCAA kids. You won't get one."
But don't worry, Michic said.
"We got EuroCamp instead. Your stats guarantee a spot there."
Slight detour from the plan.
But no big deal, I figured.
After the Zvezda game, we headed back to Korea for graduation.
No direct flights from Serbia, so we routed through Istanbul—meant an early start packing. But Kim Yun-mi kept fidgeting anxiously.
"Seojun, Subin's finally getting real minutes. Is it okay to head home now?"
"It's fine. Better—they'll realize they can't do without him."
"You think?"
"Trust me. Let's go."
"Right! Pack up!"
Maybe from leaning on each other those four months, Kim Yun-mi and I had gotten close. With Subin treating me like an older brother, she mothered me too.
"Who you gonna meet back home, Seojun?"
"Soccer team guys, I guess. Nobody else really."
"Then hang with Suryeon?"
"Huh?"
"She's resuming school in March but lounging at home now. Take her out, make her walk—good exercise."
"Uh... Suryeon noona's got her own stuff."
"Told you, she's rolling around the house. What, don't wanna hang? She's popular like me—tons of confessions in high school, guys chasing her in college too... But!"
Most important part, she said.
"Suryeon's never had a boyfriend. Crazy, right!?"
I didn't get why that was crazy, but anyway.
Mom kept yapping about Suryeon noona.
That's when we stepped out, bags ready for Istanbul.
A strange guy stood blankly in front of the house. We ignored him to pass, but spotting me, he rushed over.
"Lee, got a sec?"
"...Who are you?"
He hesitated.
"For now, say I'm an NBA team rep. Got time?"
"Sorry, we're in a rush."
Mention of Istanbul Airport, and he perked up, pulling his phone.
"I'll grab two taxis. Ride with me, we talk."
That insistent? Fine, I'd hear him out.
Subin and mom took one cab.
I slid into the back seat next to the guy. He grilled me like an interrogation.
"Quick: One, early entry this year?"
"Yeah, planning to."
"Good. Two: Join the team right away even if second-round?"
"..."
This was the crux.
As Michic said, NBA teams were cautious with non-Americans. Too many drafted who never showed.
Hence pre-draft feelers like this.
We'll take you first-round, join now. Or second-round, you in?
Say no here, might boost my first-round odds.
But stubbornly chasing first-round could kill interest.
Truth? First or second, I didn't care. Rookie scale meant security and cash, but money wasn't my driver. Second-round got me unrestricted FA a year sooner—walk to Jokic's team.
That was my career plan.
Play with Europe's GOAT Jokic.
Not just prestige. Teaming up showed me: my style shone best with a center-first offense.
With Jokic, I can up my ball-handling share. Boosts my stats big time.
Never tried guard- or wing-led squads, but instinct said Jokic maximized my volume. Synergy checked out too.
Best skill, best fit partner? No reason elsewhere.
"Any pick, I'll join next season."
"Whoa...!"
His face lit up.
He fired off trivia—height, wingspan—then called someone for approval, it seemed. Then the real pitch.
"Proper intro: Carlo Alcaraz, Denver Nuggets scout."
"...!"
Colorado NBA squad. Small market, but solid mid-tier, no losers.
"Lee, we're taking you second-round. Exact pick TBD, but promise upper second. Skip EuroCamp and team tryouts."
"...That's selfish, no?"
Don't draw other teams. Fear I'd go higher elsewhere.
He knew it was pushy, rambling: bench rotation Day 1, development plan, BS like that.
Grateful Denver likes me, but...
This? Nah.
But.
"We'll draft Jokic and Michic too! Mega Bemax Big 3 to Denver!"
"...!"
Too tempting.
Michic might balk at second-round elsewhere, but with me and Jokic? Rethinkable. Jokic didn't care where—Denver picks, he goes.
Was Jokic's real team Denver in history?
Who knows. But Denver meant it.
Start career with Jokic in Denver...
Perfect launch. Plus one-club-man aura. Soccer proved it: loyalty's romance and glory unbeatable.
I mulled seriously.
No guarantees it'd pan—even accepting, twists happen.
Still, couldn't toss this dream setup. If it worked, my career would shine.
Airport nearing, I decided.
"Deal. No EuroCamp, no tryouts."
"Smart choice."
"It'll go to plan," Alcaraz grinned, offering a handshake.