Chapter 42: Trading Deadline 1

"Don't talk nonsense! My stance is clear—it's not happening! You still want my first-round pick? Why not ask for Cousins and CJ while you're at it?" Jake's voice crackled through the video call, his frustration spilling over. The All-Star Game had barely wrapped up, and Jake found himself face-to-face with Ainge in a virtual meeting. The goal? To work together and outmaneuver the Suns. But tensions between Ainge and McDonough were rising fast, and Jake was stuck in the middle, trying to keep the negotiation from imploding.

McDonough, a seasoned league veteran, wasn't one to back down easily. After squeezing a first-round pick from the Celtics, his sights shifted to the Kings. He wanted more, and he'd try every trick in the book to drag Jake deeper into the trade waters—even dangling the Morris brothers as bait. But Jake remained firm, insisting on a simple cooperation. To McDonough, Jake seemed like a minor player, just trying to stay relevant. Yet, beneath that calm exterior, Jake was navigating his own agenda.

Mozgov was a solid defensive asset, sure, but at best, he was a piece of the puzzle. As for Crowder, the player Jake had his eyes on, he was seen by many as just another second-round hopeful, someone who barely made waves in his first seasons with the Mavericks. Only now, under the Celtics, was he starting to show promise. Yet Jake wasn't about to back down. He knew Crowder's value, even if no one else did. McDonough, sensing there was more to Jake's interest than met the eye, kept pressing for a bigger slice of the pie. But Jake wouldn't budge.

Meanwhile, Ainge was running out of patience. Determined to land Isaiah Thomas, he was ready to sacrifice his Clippers pick. But neither McDonough nor Jake was making it easy for him. Jake's unwavering resolve was clearly catching McDonough off guard. "This guy's really something," Ainge thought, rubbing his face in exasperation. The virtual negotiation was a battlefield of sharp words, as the three men engaged in a fierce war of wills.

Back in his office, Jake's fiery exchange was enough to shock Mike Malone, who had quietly opened the door. "Whoa," Malone muttered, stunned by the intensity. Jake's rapid-fire English curses filled the air. "Does our manager curse like that? " Malone wiped his brow, retreating to avoid the storm.

After what felt like hours, Ainge finally raised a white flag. "Alright, alright, let's stop here," he groaned, waving his hands in surrender. "We need to set the framework before the trade window closes." Jake loosened his tie and exhaled deeply, trying to cool the fire in his chest.

"Okay," he agreed, catching his breath. "We're trading Crowder, Mozgov's moving to the Kings, and the Suns are parting with Thomas. Are we clear on that?"

"Yeah," Ainge grumbled, tapping his pen against the desk in frustration. "But to balance things out, you Suns need to throw in that trade exception you've got." He paused, glancing at the others. "That should make the deal fair, right?"

"I'm in," McDonough said quickly.

"Same here," Jake added.

With that, the deal was shaping up. The hours of shouting were simply to establish each other's limits, but now, it was time to hammer out the finer details. "Look, my bottom line is that I'll give the Suns my first-round pick this year. That's it. If you're after more, don't bother."

Ainge, ever confident, leaned back. As one of the most notorious hard-nosed managers in Celtics history, he had built a fortune of draft picks by fleecing the Nets in their ill-fated split-team trade, amassing future assets like no other. In 2016 alone, the Celtics held three first-round picks and five second-rounders. Ainge's urgency stemmed from this overabundance of assets—if he didn't start cashing in, those picks would soon lose their value.

"Jake," Ainge sighed, "I'll throw in a 2016 second-round pick as a concession. That's the best I can do."

"Your second-round pick? Seriously?" Jake laughed coldly. "That's the last of your five picks, and it's bound to be at the tail end. You can buy that pick with cash on draft night."

"Take it or leave it," Ainge shrugged. "I'm not offering anything else." His gaze shifted to McDonough, signaling that the Suns would have to pony up more if they wanted to offload Thomas' contract.

McDonough, feeling the pressure, searched through his notes before coming back with his final offer. "Fine, I'll give you a 2017 second-round pick swap option."

"A swap? Don't be stingy!" Jake shot back, sensing weakness. "It's just a second-round pick, and in 2017 at that. Why don't you skip the swap and give me the rights outright?"

McDonough, cornered, knew he was running out of options. "Alright, alright. A straight second-round pick it is, 2017. No more changes."

"Deal."

With the terms set, the three men confirmed the final details and disconnected from the call. Jake leaned back in his chair, his voice hoarse from the argument. The deal wasn't a massive win, but it was a solid one. Whether upgrading the lineup or gathering future assets, Jake had secured more than enough to call it a success.