MVP
OVR: 7
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Texas
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Re: One of a Kind: The Strange Journey of Matthew Wood (2K15 MyCareer dynasty)
June 26, 2014
"With the sixtieth pick in the 2014 NBA Draft, the San Antonio Spurs select..."
Matthew was a complete nervous wreck. Here he was, pacing around his shabby cheap apartment, clutching an old Spalding Infusion basketball--the same one his parents had gotten him when he was 15, when he started playing the game. Even with all its wear and tear, he kept it out of sentimental value.
He couldn't bear to look at the screen anymore. His autistic quirks were only getting more and more pronounced with each second that passed. He'd pushed the ball into his chest. He'd bounced it on his head with his hands barely above it. No matter what, he just couldn't stand still.
He'd already figured he wasn't a lottery pick; few players from such small schools were. And the North Texas Mean Green had NEVER produced an NBA player, ever--not even before the National Basketball League and Basketball Association of America merger in 1949 that created the National Basketball Association. He certainly didn't do anything special in the NCAA tournament, like Stephen Curry did with Davidson, or Cleanthony Early (who had been taken early in the second round by the Knicks) did with Wichita State earlier that year.
In fact, the Mean Green only made the tourney in his second year, as a 13th seed, getting blown out by the Texas Longhorns, 92-66. His 14 points and 10 rebounds (four offensive) weren't nearly enough.
He wondered if that early exit was part of why he kept falling in this draft...it was certainly making him want to cry. He'd left college early so he could help support his family, and now, fifty-nine picks later, he was still waiting.
He had lost the weight, gotten his muscle up, and now stood at 6'11', 225 pounds...yet here he was, hoping that the reigning NBA champions would take him with the final selection.
"...Jeremy Brown, from Okla--"
The resulting scream could likely be heard as far away as the downtown Houston megachurch that used to be The Summit/Compaq Center. He didn't need to hear what college Brown was from. He slammed his old ball down to the floor in disgust and disbelief, hard enough to make it bounce all the way to the ceiling once.
"THIS guy?! I don't even know who that IS!"
That brief outburst of rage seemed to dissipate after that starting explosion, at which point he could only clutch his ball and plop onto the sofa, seeming to sink further and further into the cushions.
"Good night, everyone, and thanks for coming," said the deputy commissioner who traditionally called the second round of picks. The man's name was irrelevant now...and so was Wood's. All that work, all that tiring hustle, all that pain and sweat...all for nothing. What was he going to do now?
He doesn't even notice the sounds of his agent, Will Regan, approaching, having just come out of his bathroom after washing his hands.
With a bit of nerves, Will Regan tells Matthew "There's my guy..."
If the camel's back wasn't snapped in half before, this bit of straw did it. Matthew gets up, shooting Regan a death-glare, and says, with rising intensity, "Your guy? Your GUY?!"
Will gets an oh-shoot look on his face, backing off from the near-seven-footer. And then said tall man walks toward him, looking like he's out for blood! Regan starts walking around the room and the dinner table, trying to avoid his wrath!
"Your GUY was told by his agent that he was gonna be a late-first-round, MAYBE second-round draft pick! Your GUY's supposed to be in New YORK with the REST of those chumps! Your GUY?! Your GUY's about to BLOW HIS FRICKIN' LID because his dream of playing a GAME to support his family IS STILL JUST A DREAM!!"
Will stops in front of the still-playing TV, telling him "Hey, CHILL man!" He didn't even notice how fury tends to make stutters go away. "I know this isn't how we wanted it to go down, BELIEVE me!" Wood finally seemed to have stopped walking, so Regan takes a couple of steps toward him, to deliver a small ultimatum.
"Like I told you--you're my last best hope at the agency! If you wash out, I wash out WITH you!"
That was true enough to get Wood to quiet down. Regan hadn't wanted to be stuck with him, but until this (justified) outburst, they'd gotten along passably. At the very least, Wood seemed to know what a business relationship was, and that some things are better handled by someone who's better at talking and negotiating than he was. Plus, with two past failures, his job was likely hinging on Wood's future. He didn't have a choice but to stick by the center, as quirky as he was.
However, what came next was not expected. "But I was thinking...maybe this was the best thing that could've happened to you."
This baffled Wood enough to speak up again--and judging by the sarcasm in his voice, he was still simmering. "How do you figure THAT, genius?"
Regan states his reasoning: "Better to go undrafted and have a choice, than to be picked late by a stacked playoff team, where your chances of MAKING the team are about as high as MY chances of...I don't know, dating a supermodel. Which, by the way, despite my CONTAGIOUS CHARM, are pretty frickin' slim."
Matthew finally seemed to have calmed down. His shoulders were starting to slump as the realization kicked in. Choice? How many undrafted players even PLAYED in this league? Jeremy Lin was super-lucky that all those injuries happened to force him to be played in New York two years prior. Still, it was something. "So w-what's the move here, man?" Definitely calming down--his stutter was coming back.
Will turned off the TV, so Matthew could focus on his words. "This just affects our timing...okay? You've just gotta keep workin' hard and be ready. Injuries, overhyped draft picks--sooner or later, players are gonna wash out, and they are gonna call you. You hear me?"
Will nearly stepped over the table, but realized that would likely send his client into another tizzy. Matthew, meanwhile, had finally sat down in the center of his sofa again, looking positively bummed out. It had finally hit him; he had been passed up by every single team, including his hometown Rockets, whose GM had the "always take the best player available" philosophy. Which meant he thought Clint Capela was a better player than him...or, was there another reason?
Another look of anger was starting to enter Wood's face. "This is because of Royce White, isn't it?"
Royce White was a standout prospect at Iowa State University before entering the 2012 draft. White had a mental disorder, specifically Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Despite this, the Rockets saw enough in his skill set to take him with the 16th pick that year...and then White threw an emotional tantrum to the team, asking for all sorts of unreasonable accomodations, like riding by bus (which he did offer to pay for himself) to get around his fear of flying. White was eventually assigned to the D-League's Rio Grande Valley Vipers...but he outright refused to report there, claiming among other things that he was too good a player to be there, and that he'd only play at the NBA level. It got so bad, he was eventually somehow traded to the Philadelphia 76ers before ever playing a regular-season game for the team...and then, White was waived by the Sixers.
Royce White did eventually see NBA action for the Sacramento Kings, having signed a ten-day contract with the team the prior season...and played a grand total of nine minutes, joining the ranks of players like Charles Jones, who had more career personal fouls than points scored (zero points, two fouls).
White was a complete embarrassment to the disabled--and few people wanted White to succeed more than Matthew Wood, which made the letdown all the more pronounced. Rockets GM Daryl Morey called White the biggest mistake he'd ever made with the team. It should have been no wonder that no NBA team dared take another chance on a player with mental issues again.
With Will going silent, Matthew finally answers his question, muttering "Yes. I hear you."
"Good," said the agent, who sat down on the coffee table. "Remember...Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team--and made fools pay for it for the rest of his career. And beyond--you heard his Hall-of-Fame speech, the guy's still so petty about it." Regan gets up and walks a little. "Look, my point is, use the draft-day slight as motivation; a chip on your shoulder at the beginning of...a long journey." He adds "And like EVERY journey, this one begins with a single step."
Coming back in front of his client, he concludes. "So your first step...is to keep working hard. And we'll find you a home before you know it."
Taking another deep breath, Wood finally realizes this is the only chance he has left. He manages to utter "Alright...I'm believin' in you, man. Make it happen..." And he only manages a handshake, as Regan heads for the door, phone in hand.
He can't help but think to himself, alone.
Undrafted? Basketball is the one thing on this entire frickin' planet that I'm good at. What am I gonna do now? I don't wanna move back in with Mom...they can barely afford me as it is. This can't be the end...is my dream--my future--really dead...?
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