"The Knicks gave up Wilson Chandler—who averaged 14.4 points last season—plus next year's first-round pick. This is basically mortgaging the future! Getting Curry is one thing, but why Luke Thorne? Is a Chinese small forward really worth the 6th pick?"
"I heard his stock shot up because of that video where he defended Carmelo Anthony. GMs were stunned by his lateral speed. They think he's already an elite-level defender."
"A video? That proves nothing. For all we know, he and Melo were just putting on a show."
"Rumor has it Curry pressured the Knicks management. He told them he'd only come to New York if they took Luke too."
"Wait... are Curry and Luke actually in that kind of relationship?"
Luke sat in front of his laptop, his fists tightening as he scrolled through the basketball forums. Dammit!
He could handle people questioning his skills—he'd just prove them wrong on the court. But questioning his orientation?! How was he supposed to prove that one? Film a private "demo"? Start a livestream to show the world his "stats"?
Without a second thought, Luke registered a burner account and dove into the comments.
"I've seen the video. If you went one-on-one with Luke, he'd lock you up so hard you'd forget how to dribble," he typed, defending himself under the cloak of anonymity. Naturally, he was immediately dogpiled by trolls. This only triggered his hidden "Keyboard Warrior" trait. With a typing speed of 4,000 words per hour, Luke began a glorious verbal crusade against the internet.
It was a total bloodbath. After venting his frustrations on the American fans, he hopped over to the Chinese basketball forums.
The atmosphere there was completely different. The domestic fans were in a frenzy over this mysterious player who had seemingly fallen from the sky. Internet sleuths had already dug up his background, shocked to find he hadn't played a single organized game in China before heading to the US. They found interviews with Davidson's Coach McKillop, who praised Luke as the hardest worker he'd ever seen—the first to the gym, the last to leave.
"A hardworking genius!" That was the label China had given him.
After the disappointment of Yi Jianlian's inconsistent play and Sun Yue's "victory by standing on the bench" with the Lakers (who were reportedly not renewing his contract), the fans were desperate. Yao Ming was the only one who had truly made it, but with his injury likely sidelining him for the entire 2009-2010 season, Luke Thorne had officially become "the hope of the village."
Luke felt a warmth in his chest reading the encouragement. Compared to the toxic vitriol of the US forums, the domestic "keyboard warriors" were like gentle breezes. Then, he saw a trending thread: "Will Luke Thorne play in the FIBA Asia Championship this year?"
Luke thought about it for a long time. The answer was a firm no. He didn't have the patience to deal with the bureaucratic "officials" at the Basketball Association. Besides, the level of competition in the Asian Championship was too low to help him grow. He was better off staying in the gym, "growing in the shadows" like a late-game carry.
In his memory, the 2009 FIBA Asia Championship in Tianjin would be a disaster. Without Yao Ming, China would lose the final to Iran 52-70—a game often called the "shame of Tianjin." It would be the start of a long decline where fans would realize that without Yao, Chinese basketball simply wasn't the same.
Luke knew he could go back and save them, erasing that stain from history. But he wasn't going to crawl back and beg for an invitation that hadn't even been sent. He wanted to wait. He wanted to play so well in the NBA that the officials would have to come to him. He wanted to wake up the fans and the officials alike by showing them what a modern, elite perimeter player actually looked like.
Closing his laptop, Luke stood up and stretched by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the sprawling, busy streets of New York. The negative energy from the internet battles slowly faded.
It was the first day after the draft. He and Steph had discussed buying houses but quickly realized that New York real estate was a nightmare. Even for NBA rookies, the prices were astronomical. They decided to rent for now—a common practice among players who feared being traded.
With the help of their agent, Austin, they found two adjacent apartments. They didn't want to share a place because Ayesha would often visit, and Luke had zero desire to be a third wheel to their "love-dovey" antics.
Money wasn't an issue. Luke's family was well-off, and once his rookie contract with the Knicks was signed, the rent would be pocket change.
They spent the day furniture shopping and setting up. Steph's place, under Ayesha's direction, was filled with pink accents and framed photos of the couple. Luke's place, by contrast, was minimalist: just the essentials and a brand-new PS3.
Looking at Steph's cozy home and then back at his own empty bachelor pad, Luke quietly closed his door.
Man... I'm salty. Having a girlfriend to help decorate really is a different vibe.