NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 47: Chapter 47: Team Tryouts, Contract Endorsements!

Chapter 47: Team Tryouts, Contract Endorsements!

To be honest, there wasn’t a specific team Chen Yan desperately wanted to join.

And even if there was, it wouldn’t matter much. The NBA Draft is a one-way street. Teams pick the players, not the other way around. Players can express preferences through various channels before draft night, but once a team calls your name, you suit up and report. That’s just how it works.

Sure, a player could refuse to report—but that’s a risky move. Most rookies don’t have the guts or leverage to pull it off.

That’s why so many talented rookies end up on dysfunctional squads they never dreamed of joining.

Still, the draft is always full of trades and surprises. Just because only five teams have the top picks doesn’t mean Chen Yan’s future is locked into one of them. Everything was still up in the air.

And sure enough, the moment the draft lottery ended, the phone started buzzing with invitations.

”Chen,” said agent Bill Duffy, pulling out his trusty notebook in the hotel room, ”I’ve got tryout invites from nine teams—Grizzlies, Timberwolves, Knicks, Hawks, Trail Blazers, Celtics, Supersonics, Mavericks, and Suns.”

Nine teams reaching out didn’t mean the others weren’t interested—it just meant the rest probably figured their draft positions were too low to realistically grab him, so they didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

Kind of like a broke guy crushing on a supermodel. The desire’s there, but when he checks his wallet, he knows better.

”You have any advice on who I should work out for?” Chen Yan asked, leaning back.

Bill nodded. ”Yeah, a few things. First off, I wouldn’t recommend trying out for the Timberwolves. Minnesota’s a small market, tough environment, not ideal for a young player’s development. And more importantly, their franchise player Garnett? Not exactly rookie-friendly.”

That was putting it lightly. Garnett’s treatment of rookies was brutal—downright savage compared to how he handled actual opponents.

Back in 2004, a 21-year-old rookie named Ricott challenged KG to a friendly post-practice one-on-one. Ricott idolized the guy growing up. KG agreed, all smiles. He liked ”mentoring” the new blood—or so it seemed.

But Ricott got hot. Real hot. He started scoring bucket after bucket, even while teammates watched and started cheering him on. Garnett’s pride took a hit.

And when Ricott landed another clean score, KG snapped.

Not with his game. With his fists.

One punch. Straight to the chin.

Ricott dropped like a sack of bricks, blood pouring from his mouth. He needed seven stitches and lost several teeth. The kid never recovered mentally—and that was the last time anyone dared challenge KG during a scrimmage.

”So yeah,” Bill said with a shake of his head. ”No Timberwolves.”

Chen nodded in agreement. That story alone was enough to steer clear.

”And the Grizzlies? Also a no-go. I just got word that Jerry West’s planning to step down. Once he’s gone, that front office is gonna spiral into chaos again. You want no part of that mess.”

Chen had to admit—Bill’s analysis was spot-on. Having an agent like him was one of his best decisions yet.

He was a time traveler, after all. He knew how this played out.

In his previous life, the Grizzlies lucked into top picks three years in a row—No. 4 in 2007, No. 3 in 2008, and No. 2 in 2009. If those picks had landed with the Thunder, that team would’ve skyrocketed. But Memphis?

They blew it.

They drafted Mike Conley, O.J. Mayo, and Hasheem Thabeet.

Only Conley panned out. The others? Straight-up busts.

Without Jerry West, the Grizzlies were hopeless—rotten from the top down.

”What about you?” Bill asked, flipping the page in his notebook. ”Any preferences?”

Chen Yan shrugged. ”Sounds good so far, but... I don’t think I need to try out for the Knicks.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. ”What? The Knicks are one of the biggest markets in the league. Media, sponsorships, fan exposure—you name it.”

Chen chuckled. ”Exactly. They’ve got money, a big stage... and absolutely no idea what they’re doing. That team’s front office is a disaster. It’s even messier than Memphis. Players go there to get paid—and then disappear.”

He wasn’t wrong. The Knicks had the 23rd pick in the first round. They had no shot at landing Chen unless they pulled off a major trade.

But to trade, you need assets.

And the Knicks? Their roster was garbage. No team in their right mind would give up a top rookie for that.

Sure, they had two former All-Stars—Stephon Marbury and Steve Francis—but both were washed. No leverage. No future.

”Look,” Chen continued, ”If I wanna go party in New York and burn some money, fine. But I don’t need a tryout for that.”

Bill smiled and nodded. ”Alright, Knicks are off the list.”

”What’s the story with the Suns and Mavs?” Chen asked. ”They don’t have lottery picks, right?”

Bill tapped his pen. ”Nope, but they’re serious about getting you. Both teams are exploring trade options. Mark Cuban—Dallas’s owner—he’s publicly praised you more than once.”

Chen raised a brow. That was interesting.

Both teams had legit stars and stable rosters. Joining them would mean short-term success and a shot at the playoffs. The downside? Limited minutes, less room to shine, and more pressure from fans.

If he joined a struggling team, he’d likely be the focal point right out of the gate—tons of playing time, total freedom to shoot, and room to grow.

The data would look solid, and the fans’ attitude would stay pretty chill. Everyone already knew the team was in rebuilding mode, so losing a few more games wouldn’t really matter.

But let’s be real—forget about even sniffing the O’Brien trophy. At this rate, making the playoffs would already be a miracle.

Each team had its pros and cons. In the end, it all came down to how Chen Yan wanted to play it.

Still, rejecting a tryout wasn’t exactly a hard ”no.” It just sent a signal to that team: ”I’m not really interested.” If they still insisted on drafting him, well, he couldn’t stop them.

”By the way, Chen,” Bill Duffy said, pulling out a stack of documents from his briefcase. ”There are a few endorsement offers you need to look at.”

Chen Yan nodded. His stock had shot up fast after his run in March Madness, especially back in China. Even before stepping onto an NBA court, brands were already knocking.

He and Bill had already talked this over. Chen’s biggest requirement? Short-term contracts.

His reasoning was simple: his market value was gonna skyrocket once he started showing out in the league. No way he was locking himself into long-term deals just yet.

Also, Chen made something crystal clear—no endorsements from Japanese brands.

That was his principle. His bottom line.

No matter where he played—home or abroad—he believed Chinese athletes shouldn’t compromise their national pride.

Bill respected that.

He was also strict about the type of deals Chen would accept. Everything had to be clean, healthy, and positive. Chen Yan’s public image needed to stay sharp, inspiring, and marketable.

Chen glanced over the contracts Bill handed him.

Levi’s Jeans. Bic Razors. Huangjian Chewing Gum.

No mega-brands, sure—but still a strong start. For a guy who hadn’t played a single NBA game yet, this was already impressive.

Of course, Bill had turned down plenty of offers too. Stuff like junk food, shady health supplements, and ”male vitality” products didn’t even get a second look.

Junk food endorsements could make an athlete look unprofessional. And those sketchy men’s health pills? Huge risk.

If fans started showing up to games with signs yelling ”rnm! Refund my money!” because the pills didn’t work? Yeah, no thanks.

Or worse—if someone had an accident and started yelling, ”qnmd! You scamming player! Fraud brands! Give me my life and my masculinity back!!”

Hell no.

Chen Yan guarded his reputation like a hawk. To him, long-term respect was worth way more than quick cash. That mindset was part of what made him special.

As they wrapped up those deals, Bill’s phone buzzed. He took the call, nodded, and hung up with a sigh.

”Dulux Love Condoms just reached out,” Bill said, raising an eyebrow. ”They want you as their spokesperson. I’ll turn them down later.”

But Chen Yan paused.

”Wait, why reject it?”

Bill blinked. ”You’re serious?”

”I mean, think about it,” Chen said. ”It promotes safe sex, prevents diseases, prevents unwanted pregnancies... what’s the downside?”

Bill stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

”You think that’s good for your image?”

”Hell yeah,” Chen said. ”Being responsible is cool now, haven’t you heard?”

And just like that, Chen Yan became the official spokesperson for Dulux Love Condoms.

The deals he signed were short—just one to two years, no public appearances, no press tours. All he had to do was shoot a couple of ads during the offseason. It checked all his boxes.

Within a week, the payments rolled into his account—$1.55 million after tax.

Sure, that wasn’t superstar money. But for someone from a middle-class background? It was insane.

Chen Yan could only smile.

Making bank every day felt damn good.

But this was just the beginning. His commercial potential was only going to grow.

Of course, it came with a price—he had to stay sharp in public. No slip-ups, no scandals.

He thought back to the Ronaldinhllo situation. The football icon lost a $1.5 million Coca-Cola endorsement just because he sipped Pepsi at a press conference. One sip. That’s all it took.

Chen Yan made a mental note:

From now on, only Huangjian gum, Levi’s jeans, and Dulux condoms.

No exceptions.

And hey, only he and his future partner would know about the condoms anyway.

Bill also brought out some sneaker deals for review. But the offers? Nah—not good enough.

Sneaker contracts were where the real money lived. That was the crown jewel for any NBA player.

Chen wasn’t in a rush. If the deal didn’t match his value, he wasn’t signing. Period.

Once they sorted out the tryout invites and endorsement contracts, Chen headed back to the dorm.

For now, he and Durant were still roommates. The school hadn’t reclaimed the room and probably didn’t want to. If anything, they were thrilled to keep two future NBA stars on campus a little longer.

But their time there was almost up. The tryout tour was about to kick off.

Oddly, neither of them got emotional about leaving.

No long talks. No dramatic goodbyes.

It wasn’t that they didn’t care. They just knew—this wasn’t the end.

They were both lottery picks. The teams they’d be working out for were nearly identical.

So yeah, they’d see each other again real soon. Probably at the next gym, the next hotel, the next flight out.

For now, it was just one stop on the road to the NBA.

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