10-28-2012
US Airways Center
He took a deep breath and tried to get up from the chair. Again, his legs were uncooperative. They seemed unable to move and that was simply because they didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to move. He was in this seat, in this chair, and he didn’t want to leave it.
It still hadn’t sunk he guessed. He’d been sitting here now for hours, the press conference had come and gone. It was a blur really … there was hand shaking, words of support, lots of pictures and questions all while the owner of the team, Robert Sarver, sat beside him and watched.
He was named General Manager of the Phoenix Suns … he was the youngest GM in league history now. A 24 year old kid from the middle of Colorado and here he was in Arizona running an NBA team.
The contract had been signed the day before. It hadn’t taken him long to make up his mind.
This was his moment … his opportunity.
This was why he was still alive.
He leaned back in the chair and looked out into the empty room, the chairs equally empty.
He didn’t know many people in the front office. They weren’t a tight knit group … he was just a scout so he was on the road a lot, looking at players and teams. It wasn’t a glamorous or well paying life but it was one he liked. The travel was good, the work was good, and the ability to learn about the game he loved was there.
It’s why he had taken this job.
His parents had hated it. They didn’t work their tails off so he could get a
degree and then waste it by being a low level scout for an NBA team.
But he had made the decision and he moved out here over a year ago to be that scout. He did his job. He met some people.
And now he was the last one left of the Phoenix Suns front office.
“Lonely at the top?”
He whipped his head around to see Mr. Sarver’s personal assistant,
Veronica, leaning against the doorframe. She was young. She was damned good looking.
And she was blonde. He had a weakness for blondes.
He cleared his throat. “Just … thinking, that’s all.”
“I’ve been standing here for nearly thirty minutes now, Andrew.”
He winced. “Andy, please … just call me Andy.”
She smirked and sat down in one of the empty chairs in the press area. “All
right, Andy … how does it feel?”
“How does what feel, exactly?”
“Being GM.”
He sighed. He wasn’t sure what it felt like. Part of him was excited but that was tempered by the knowledge that the only reason he got the job was because a lot of good people died … and the team owner was a cheap bastard.
He had given him a bump in salary but Andy knew he was being paid like a chump.
That was fine by him. He hadn’t earned the money.
“It feels … weird,” he finally admitted. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”
She nodded. “So what do you plan to do?”
“First?”
“Yes, first,” she said while rolling her eyes.
He leaned back. He knew what he needed to do first. “I need a staff.”
“We don’t have a lot of money to work with.”
“I know.”
“Then who are you going to hire?”
He looked at her with surprise. “Me? Hire people?”
She smiled coolly. “You are the GM … you make the calls as to who’s on your staff.”
He hadn’t considered that. He knew he could suggest people but to have final say … “I know some guys.”
“Other scouts.”
He nodded. She wasn’t a dumb blonde, that was for sure. “We need some and I need people I can trust … so I’ll get in contact with them. See if they want in.”
“You know—”
“That we won’t pay top dollar, yes, I know,” he said with a chuckle. “We have a reputation to live up to.”
She smirked and stood from her chair. “One question.”
“Sure.”
“Are you actually going to try to do this job? Are you really going to try and make trades? Sign players?”
Andy nodded. “I can’t do any less … it’s what the others would have done if they were still here.”
That seemed to answer her question. “I see … good night.” She walked out of the room.
He was left again alone.
“Here’s to you guys,” he said to the empty room.
10-29-2012
New Orleans
“What the hell do you mean ‘I need you’?” The older man grumbled as he chomped on his cigar, the smoke gathering around them both.
Andy cleared his throat. He was going to start at the top. “Gil, I need you. You’re the best scout I’ve ever known.”
He scoffed. “I taught you a lot of what you know.”
“Not just me, you taught an entire generation of scouts,” Andy insisted. “I know you’re retired—”
“Semi-retired,” he corrected. He put his cigar in the tray and squinted at Andy. “I have bills that are older than you, kid,” he said with a grimace.
“Well, couldn’t you use an income influx?”
“I don’t work for the money,” he growled.
Andy sighed. “You’re … what, seventy-two?”
“Sixty-four,” he corrected angrily.
“Well, don’t you want some money to live off of when you retire?”
“People who retire are good for one thing: taking up space. I’m not gonna be a waste of space.”
Andy rubbed his forehead. “Gil, I need an assistant GM. Someone who
knows the league. I flew out here for you … you know just about everyone in this league.”
“It’s not like they send Christmas cards,” he quipped, picking up his cigar and smoking it again.
“But you know them,” Andy reiterated. He put down the contract offer on the desk.
Gil stared at it before putting his cigar out in the tray. “You’re serious?”
“I need you … Gil, I have ideas on how to do this but I’m over my head. Virtually everyone in the league knows this.”
“Damn straight.”
Andy smirked. He did love that brutal honesty. “I want to make moves. I want to make big moves.”
“With the Suns? The Steve Nash-less Suns?” Gil shook his head. “Your roster is … decent, and that’s about it.”
“I have guys others will want. Like the Hornets.”
Gil smirked. “You’ve kept you ears to the ground, huh?”
“Like you always said … listen to everything everyone says.” He leaned back in the chair and put his arms behind his head. “I know we missed out on Eric Gordon during the summer.”
“Swung, missed, and then decided to call a foul ball a homerun.” Gil thumbed his nose. “Beasley was a **** signing.”
Andy nodded. “I and a few others said as much … but that can be fixed.”
“Gordon wants out of here, bad. He wants to Phoenix, bad. The Hornets are gonna fleece you, bad, if you try to get him now,” Gil said as he pounded the desk for emphasis. “What are you gonna give them?”
“I’ll tell you if you sign the contract.”
Gil narrowed his eyes. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll buy you lunch and we can talk about other things,” Andy said with a shrug.
Gil stared at the contract for a moment before grabbing a pen, signing it, and tossing it into Andy’s lap. “Talk.”
Andy smirked. He could always count on Gil’s need to know. “I have a contact in the Hornet’s organization—”
“Skip the history lesson.”
Andy rolled his eyes. “Gordon is making a stink of it in the Hornets locker room. He was traded from LA to here and he hates it here. He was supposed to be the big piece in the trade and instead he’s been relegated to the third wheel … fans are more excited for Davis and Rivers than him. He wants out.”
Gil looked unimpressed. “So? He’s locked in for three years and tons of cash.”
“The Hornets don’t want a Carmelo situation … they’re gonna move Gordon before the season starts.”
“In a few days? To who?”
“To us if we give them Beasley, Brown, Telfair, and a first round pick.”
The older man scoffed. “For what? Just Gordon?”
“Gordon, Vasquez, and Darius Miller.”
“Three starter caliber players for one-when healthy-good starter and two prospects, one of which is likely worth nothing? You realize your team—”
Andy held up a finger. “Our team.”
“Our team … fine, you realize
our team is stuck between rebuilding and contending. This is the worst position to be in for a team … we need to commit to rebuilding which means we need draft picks, not overpaid good, sometimes healthy, injury prone players like Gordon.”
Andy shook his head. “Gordon’s injury last year was a fluke, it was a shortened season … he’ll be fine this year. We wanted him in the offseason anyway, this way we get him and get a splash guy. We need some positive news out there, Gil …” Andy’s face grew dark. “We need good news period after what happened.”
Gil jabbed a finger at him. “Exactly the reason you should just go into full rebuilding mode now. Don’t get people’s hopes up with this … you don’t have the pieces to compete in the conference, let alone the division. The Lakers, Clippers, Kings, and Warriors are all in better positions to make a run at something than you are. The Suns are bottom dwellers in the division and will be for at least this year … maybe in free agency you have a shot.”
“We can compete now,” Andy insisted, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. “We just need to get Gordon. Everything else will fall into place if we get him.”
“You want to build around him and Dragic? Good luck … two 6’3 guys in the backcourt in this conference is just conceding points to the opposing guards.” Gil leaned his head back and sighed.
Andy stood from the desk. “The decision has already been made, Gil.”
He stared at him. “You submitted the paperwork? Already?”
“By tomorrow the deal will be finalized and approved.” Andy winked at him. “I just wanted to see what you thought.”
“This is a ****ty idea.”
Andy smirked. “Maybe … we’ll see, won’t we?”
Gil stared at him, shook his head, and stood up. “Lunch. Now. You’re paying.” With that, he grabbed his coat and walked out the door.
Andy followed.
And so it began …