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"-ninth pick in the 1997 ABL draft, the Gatlin Tropics select Julian White from the University of Southern California."
You clap along politely with everyone else present at the event, trying to ignore the way the expensive suit you're wearing pulls at your shoulder. You've worn it before, but this time is different. You feel itchy and uncomfortable; it's a conscious effort to not start fidgeting, pulling at your jacket to try and ease the discomfort. It wouldn't help. You're just nervous. This is your big day. The draft for the American Basketball League, where you'll get to see which team will be picking you up and how highly the ABL values you.
"-the Indiana Motors select Ralph Evans-"
It's a lot less highly than you'd thought. Maybe that's why you're getting so uncharacteristically nervous. You're sure you're as good as anyone else here, but not everyone seems to agree. You've been tuned into the media around the draft, and a lot of analysts don't think you're going to translate well to the ABL. You even heard one motherfucker, Frank Olson, say you'd probably go undrafted. Well, fuck those analysts and fuck Frank Olson. You'll prove them wrong. You have what it takes.
"With the eleventh pick in the 1996 ABL draft, the Heat City Hotshots select Marcus Shields from Michigan State University."
And for once, it seems like somebody out there agrees. In your heart you wanted to go number one, but in your head you guessed that the doubts around you would probably send you down to the twenties. To get picked eleventh out of everyone in the draft is...
>Humbling.
>A bit disappointing.
>Write-in.
You distantly feel your father pulling you out of your chair. His eyes are overflowing with pride as he gestures for you to get moving. You look up at the overhead screen and see yourself grinning like a lunatic as you make your way up to the stage to shake hands with the league's bald, wiry commissioner, Daniel Mills.
You're almost onto the stage when your mind ticks over and fills you in. The Hotshots have an old but reliable pair of players at your position. They're probably looking to take a risk on some new blood, especially since they also landed the number one pick. You might even end up starting, given how far the Hotshots are from contending right now.
>Point Guard
>Shooting Guard
>Small Forward
>Power Forward
>Center
I will do my best to make the quest at least somewhat accessible, but there's only so much I can do without dropping into constant exposition. If you don't know what the positions are, google them. Or ask me, I'm happy to answer questions to the best of my ability.
You clap along politely with everyone else present at the event, trying to ignore the way the expensive suit you're wearing pulls at your shoulder. You've worn it before, but this time is different. You feel itchy and uncomfortable; it's a conscious effort to not start fidgeting, pulling at your jacket to try and ease the discomfort. It wouldn't help. You're just nervous. This is your big day. The draft for the American Basketball League, where you'll get to see which team will be picking you up and how highly the ABL values you.
"-the Indiana Motors select Ralph Evans-"
It's a lot less highly than you'd thought. Maybe that's why you're getting so uncharacteristically nervous. You're sure you're as good as anyone else here, but not everyone seems to agree. You've been tuned into the media around the draft, and a lot of analysts don't think you're going to translate well to the ABL. You even heard one motherfucker, Frank Olson, say you'd probably go undrafted. Well, fuck those analysts and fuck Frank Olson. You'll prove them wrong. You have what it takes.
"With the eleventh pick in the 1996 ABL draft, the Heat City Hotshots select Marcus Shields from Michigan State University."
And for once, it seems like somebody out there agrees. In your heart you wanted to go number one, but in your head you guessed that the doubts around you would probably send you down to the twenties. To get picked eleventh out of everyone in the draft is...
>Humbling.
>A bit disappointing.
>Write-in.
You distantly feel your father pulling you out of your chair. His eyes are overflowing with pride as he gestures for you to get moving. You look up at the overhead screen and see yourself grinning like a lunatic as you make your way up to the stage to shake hands with the league's bald, wiry commissioner, Daniel Mills.
You're almost onto the stage when your mind ticks over and fills you in. The Hotshots have an old but reliable pair of players at your position. They're probably looking to take a risk on some new blood, especially since they also landed the number one pick. You might even end up starting, given how far the Hotshots are from contending right now.
>Point Guard
>Shooting Guard
>Small Forward
>Power Forward
>Center
I will do my best to make the quest at least somewhat accessible, but there's only so much I can do without dropping into constant exposition. If you don't know what the positions are, google them. Or ask me, I'm happy to answer questions to the best of my ability.
