It was July 1st. With Bill Duffey in tow, Su Feng signed a contract with the Philadelphia 76ers that could be summed up in two words: big money. The deal was a 3-year, $3.5 million green dollar contract, which, let's be real, was Su Feng's first real "bucket of gold" — except for that one sponsorship deal he had with Xuguoliang, which was a little more "local flavor" than international fame.
But who could blame him? Entrepreneurship, especially in the NBA, is hard. Harder than figuring out how to pronounce "Xuguoliang."
It was also the summer that the Bucks, with the first overall pick, chose Glen Robinson — a man who confidently declared, "I can't play without $100 million." The Bucks, being the sentimental types, handed Robinson a 10-year $68.15 million contract, knowing full well the NBA had no idea what it was doing with rookie contracts back then. The result? A massive uproar from veteran players and an agreement that the NBA would implement a strict rookie contract system starting in 1995.
Fast forward a little: Su Feng, still in his early days with the 76ers, found himself caught up in the media frenzy that surrounded his new teammate, Allen Iverson. The media adored Iverson. It's not surprising — he had already signed a 10-year, $50 million shoe deal with Reebok, which automatically upgraded to a lifetime contract if he made the All-Star team for three years straight. Meanwhile, Su Feng was trying to figure out how to sign autographs without smudging his ink.
The love for Iverson was real. His nickname, "The Answer," wasn't just a cool moniker; it was a statement. Iverson didn't need a question, he was the answer to all your basketball prayers. His rise from troubled high school days (involving a bowling alley, a chair, and some unsavory accusations) to NBA stardom was the stuff of legend. The media ate it up.
Su Feng, on the other hand, was just trying to get his foot in the door. He couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Iverson surrounded by cameras and reporters. Su Feng, meanwhile, was doing what he did best: giving an interview without breaking a sweat.
"Why number 23, Su?" a reporter asked, genuinely interested.
Su Feng, with the seriousness of a man who had clearly thought about this for at least five minutes, answered, "Well, I wore No. 3 in high school, but, you know, that's Iverson's now. And I wanted 24, because that was Kobe's number for a while. But the 76ers retired it, so... 23 seemed like the next best thing. You know, because I'm a little weaker than Kobe, so I just dropped one number."
The reporters paused. Was this a joke? No. It was the most thoughtful thing any rookie had said in an interview since, well, ever. Michael Jordan's 23 had become legendary, and here was Su Feng, explaining why he was just one number less than the great Kobe Bryant. Genius.
"Su, as the first Chinese player in the NBA, what do you want to say to your fans back home?" another reporter asked.
Su Feng grinned and responded in flawless Chinese, "I won't disgrace my motherland!"
From the back of the room, Su Junyang, the only reporter stationed in Philadelphia by China Sports Daily, silently gave Su Feng a thumbs-up. The answer had been perfect.
The interview went on, and like any good rookie, Su Feng had to fend off a few more tricky questions. But here's the thing about Su Feng: he was like a seasoned veteran when it came to dodging dumb questions. In fact, he was so smooth, the reporters probably thought they were talking to someone who had already been in the league for five years, not a guy who still had a box of unopened rookie trading cards at home.
And then, just as the press was wrapping up, Bill Duffey leaned in and whispered, "Su, Iverson wants to throw a party tomorrow. At his villa."
A party? At Iverson's villa? Su Feng blinked. This was happening.
"Iverson… wants to hang out with me?" Su Feng muttered, trying to digest the idea of spending the evening with the NBA's biggest rebel. Then, remembering his plan to eventually convince Iverson to be his "No. 3 tool man" (basketball strategy speak for "trusty sidekick"), Su Feng nodded. "Alright, where's the address?"
Later, Su Feng found himself in his training hall, alone, except for the ghost of Kobe Bryant, who had probably left some motivational sandwiches behind. The phone rang. It was Kobe.
"Yo, I heard you picked 23," Kobe said, obviously thrilled. "I picked 8! You know, because of the Adidas camp and the fact I was drafted 8th."
Su Feng couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I told them I wanted 24, but since I'm 'a little weaker' than you, I chose 23."
Kobe's voice crackled with joy. "Haha, cool! Wait 'til I change to 24. Gotta make it official!"
They chatted for a bit, and then Su Feng, feeling nostalgic for his early days of training with Kobe, sighed. "When the summer league is over, I'll come visit you in LA. See what it's all about."
"Yeah, yeah. But don't get your hopes up. It's mostly just hard work and me punching the gym in the face," Kobe responded.
"Perfect," Su Feng said with a grin, already planning his next move.
So, there Su Feng was, navigating his rookie season like a pro: making friends, answering questions with the wisdom of a 10-year veteran, and getting invited to parties by the likes of Iverson. What a way to kick off an NBA career.
And when it came time to head to Iverson's villa the next day, well... let's just say Su Feng knew exactly what he was getting into. If he could survive this, the NBA was just another playground — and he was ready to swing from every hoop in it.