The Invitation and the Final Battle
The Serbian Super League Finals kicked off on June 14th.
In this best-of-five series, our team's atmosphere was far from ideal.
It was all because of a massive clash between the head coach and the general manager.
GM Kakic insisted on giving more playing time to the players who would remain with the team next season to build their experience. Coach Dejan Milojević, however, fiercely opposed this, arguing that the finals were a place to deliver results, not to gain experience.
This led to an absurd situation where the starting lineup wasn't even finalized an hour before Game 1. Ultimately, following the GM's wishes, Vasilije Micić and I started on the bench.
It looked like the prelude to a disaster.
Our opponents, KK Partizan, seized this as a golden opportunity and pressed us hard from the start. However, the path GM Kakic insisted on proved to be right, even if it was in a different direction.
Led by Nikola Jokić, the team banded together tightly and secured a thrilling 81-79 victory.
Of course, Micić and I provided a massive boost off the bench, combining for 27 points, but it was still a meaningful win. It was a performance that proved Mega Vizura would remain a powerhouse next season.
I'm really glad.
Putting aside my own lack of playing time, it wasn't as if I didn't care about what would happen to the team after I left. Even though I had been here for less than a year, this was the franchise that gave me my professional debut. Seeing that they would continue to thrive in the future was deeply satisfying.
"Great job, everyone!"
I welcomed the players back, patting them on the back. Shin Subin, who had played 27 minutes and scored 9 points, offered me a high-five with a satisfied look on his face.
Slap!
"Next time, it's your turn to be the hero of the championship, Subin."
"Yeah. Let's win this no matter what, Hyung."
In any case, after taking Game 1, GM Kakic's confidence soared, and he stuck with the exact same lineup for Game 2 on June 16th.
Partizan went all out, desperate to avoid a consecutive loss on their home court. However, their sheer desperation seemed to throw off their shooting rhythm, allowing us to cruise to a comfortable 78-70 victory.
With a 2-0 series lead, we were just one step away from the championship. Games 3 and 4 were scheduled to be played on our home court.
It should have been a done deal, but...
Our team's unique circumstances held us back.
We were currently in the process of relocating due to a change in sponsors, which meant our contract with our original home arena, Smederevo Sports Hall, had already expired.
Instead, we had secured a temporary contract with the New Belgrade Sports Hall—which happened to be KK Partizan's home turf.
Just like in the semifinals against Crvena zvezda, a bizarre phenomenon occurred where the arena was flooded with far more opposing fans than our own, despite it technically being our home game. On top of that, we were plagued by incomprehensible referee calls favoring the "visitors," resulting in a crushing 73-94 defeat.
That was the final straw for Coach Milojević. He delivered a fierce ultimatum to GM Kakic when the latter visited the locker room.
"I am starting Lee Seojun and Micić for the remaining games. If you don't like it, fire me."
GM Kakic finally backed down. For Game 4, scheduled for June 21st, Micić and I were slotted back into the starting lineup during practice.
On June 20th, the day before the game, the starting five was officially announced.
PG. Vasilije Micić
SG. Shin Subin
SF. Lee Seojun
PF. Nemanja Dangubić
C. Nikola Jokić
For me, it was an incredibly meaningful lineup.
Hearing the news, Subin's mother cheered.
"Finally, our Subin and Seojun are starting together. Thank goodness. Thank goodness... *sniff, sob!*"
Her sniffling quickly turned into uncontrollable sobbing as her emotions overwhelmed her. It seemed all the pent-up sorrow of living in a foreign country had burst forth at once. It took a long time to comfort her.
Just as her tears were finally beginning to dry, my phone vibrated.
Bzzz! Bzzz!
The caller was Alkaz, the Denver Nuggets scout.
"What's going on?"
[What do you mean, 'what's going on'? Haven't you seen the news? The Green Room invitation list was just announced.]
"...!"
Come to think of it, today was the day. Six days before the NBA Draft. The day the Green Room list would be revealed.
I quickly hung up, turned on my computer, and searched for the articles.
The list of 22 prospects invited to the draft's Green Room.
My name was right there.
It's really happening...
The Green Room. It referred to the elite prospects invited to sit at the luxury tables directly in front of the draft stage. These players attend the draft with their families and agents, basking in the spotlight. However, such an invitation comes with a clear implication.
It would be an absolute disaster to be invited and then not get drafted, which is why only players projected to be selected in the first round receive an invitation. Having my name on that list was a massive deal.
But more importantly... who do I go with?
I didn't have any legal family to speak of. Naturally, my gaze drifted to one side.
"Auntie, if you're okay with it..."
The moment I asked, her tears, which had barely stopped, began to flow all over again.
With both the NBA and domestic seasons over, the basketball community had been quiet—until a sudden uproar broke out.
Even at this point, the atmosphere was half-serious, half-joking. And for good reason. The weight of a Green Room invitation was immense.
The NBA league office compiles the Green Room list, but they don't do it arbitrarily. They consult league scouts, executives, and team front offices to gauge actual draft interest. This was especially true for international prospects playing outside the United States. An invitation for an international player meant the league had received solid assurances. They only extend an invite after confirming that at least six or seven teams are seriously considering selecting that player in the first round.
There were only three players from European leagues on this year's 22-man list: Dario Šarić, Jusuf Nurkić, and Seojun.
On paper, it made perfect sense. Seojun had won the championship in the Adriatic League—the very same league Šarić and Nurkić played in—while also claiming the MVP award and leading the league in scoring. However, because Seojun's exploits had gone completely unnoticed in Korea, domestic fans were treating it as a mere glitch or a funny misunderstanding.
Thirty minutes later, reporter Eom Sang-hyun himself posted on the community board.
The post triggered an absolute explosion. It quickly shot to the trending section, with comments easily surpassing two to three hundred. Only then did basketball fans begin to take the situation seriously.
It was reminiscent of the time when news first broke that a Korean footballer was in personal negotiations with Manchester United. No one could easily believe it.
The same went for the media. While a few basketball reporters who had been quietly tracking Seojun's career in Europe found it surprising but not entirely shocking, mainstream sports journalists who had paid zero attention were suddenly scrambling to cover the story.
June 21st. The day of Game 4 against KK Partizan.
My phone was practically melting.
Bzzz! Bzzz! It rang incessantly.
Seriously, how on earth did they get my number?
International roaming made it easy to receive calls from Korea even while abroad, but hardly anyone back home should have had my number in the first place.
"Hello?"
[Ah, is this Lee Seojun? Hello! I'm Kim Yeon-seok, a sports reporter from NTBC! I'm calling because I heard the news about your invitation to the NBA Draft!]
"I don't really know anything about that. I'm very busy right now, so I have to go."
Click.
Bzzz! Bzzz!
It was like a popular restaurant queue. The moment I hung up on one, another call immediately flooded in.
"Forget this."
I had no choice but to shut my phone off completely.
But then...
Bzzz! This time, Subin's phone started vibrating.
"...Sorry, Subin. I think you'd better turn yours off too."
"Yeah. I've been getting calls non-stop too. But is it really okay not to answer? They want to interview you, Hyung."
"I could, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."
"What does?"
"They didn't show a speck of interest until they heard I was going to the NBA, and now they're flipping like a coin. Just out of spite, I'm not doing any interviews until after the draft."
"Haha, that's so like you, Hyung."
"More importantly, let's focus on today's game."
A game with the championship on the line.
Even if winning didn't come with a massive cash prize or grand rewards, I wanted to finish on a high note. I also wanted to gift the franchise its first-ever league championship title.
Clap! Clap! Coach Milojević, his face burning with determination, was leading our final walkthrough.
"We end this series today! Stay focused! Give it your all! Play like your lives depend on it! A trophy earned that way is the only one with real value!"
After wrapping up our final preparations at the practice facility, we boarded the bus and headed to the arena.
The Partizan players, who had arrived earlier, were already on the court warming up.
Just as I heard, Lauvergne isn't playing today.
Their starting center, French big man Joffrey Lauvergne, was out with an injury, meaning Nikola Milutinov would be starting in his place today.
It feels almost like destiny.
My journey in Serbia had started with a search for a 'Nikola.' And now, my final opponent was Milutinov. Something hot and fierce bubbled up deep inside my chest.
Just then, another Nikola—the real deal—approached me.
"Hey, brat."
"...?"
Thud. Jokić grabbed my hand and pulled me into a light embrace. His face was a mix of complex emotions as he spoke.
"I'm really going to miss you."
"You're coming to the NBA in a year anyway."
"The chances of us landing on the same team are slim, though."
Since Jokić knew nothing of my secret agreement with Denver, his concern was natural. But now, even I couldn't be entirely sure.
Alkaz said that being invited to the Green Room means at least five other teams besides Denver are keeping a close eye on me.
Which meant there would be a fierce psychological war on draft night. A high-stakes game of chicken over who would draft me first, and at what pick.
I hope Denver wins that battle, but...
At this point, it was out of my hands. In any case.
"Don't worry. Today won't be the last time we play together."
Jokić offered a faint smile and nodded at my words.
"But since it's our last game here, let's win it in style."
"Of course. Let's absolutely crush them."
A rare, fiery competitive spirit burned in Jokić's eyes. With Micić and Subin also highly motivated, I had a feeling we might pull off something spectacular today.
Time to leave it all on the court.
I would pour everything I had learned and how much I had grown in Serbia into this single game. It would be my official declaration of intent to the NBA.
This wasn't the end. It was both a curtain call and an opening act.
And so, my final game in Serbia began.