Ed Stefanski made his way back to his office after meeting with Tony DiLeo and Courtney Witte after much discussion on the the upcoming draft and the possible selections available at No. 17.
Stefanski looked puzzled, and seemed to have the whole world on his shoulders. He sat down put his feet up and stretched his arms above his head.
Within seconds of Stefanski entering his office he heard a knock from the outside. "Who is it?" asked the startled Stefanski.
"It's me," said the voice on the other side of the office door.
"Oh No!" shouted Stefanski. "Not you again."
"Yes, it is me, Ed—and I need to talk to you."
The figure entered Stefanski's office and sat down across from him.
"What should I do?" clamored Ed.
"You have to do what your heart tells you to do, you must take into account your vision, Ed. You must fully understand the system Eddie Jordan wants to employ, and you also must look deep into the type of talent you currently have on your roster," exclaimed the figure.
"I understand what you mean, but I need you to tell me what I am to do next," pleaded the stressed-out Stefanski.
The figure stood up from his seat, and whispered a few words into Stefanski's ear. Ed shifted his body's weight to his right and nearly fell off of his office chair. Stefanski, wide-eyed now with enthusiasm and delight, took his cell phone out to make a call.
The figure in Ed's office took the phone from him and put it back in Ed's pocket.
"One step at a time, Ed. As you know the Princeton Offense requires you to acquire cerebral basketball players who are extremely unselfish and are willing to put the team and the system above individual statistics and personal accolades," stated the figure.
"There are times, Ed, when you must part with certain players who do not fit, who do not want to work at their individual games, and who do not care about each other."
"This is not easy, but this is the only way you will move forward".
"Okay, I get it. But what do I do now?" reiterated Ed as he walked closer to the figure.
"I will be here tomorrow at 2:00 AM. I expect you to be here Ed," voiced the figure. "I absolutely will," lamented Stefanski.
The figure walked toward the door without turning on any lights, looked at Stefanski, nodded, and winked—and shut the door behind him. Stefanski, with drips of sweat on his brow, picked up his belongings, grabbed his sportscoat, looked at his watch, and headed for the door.
But before he could leave, his cell phone rang. It was 3:00 AM in the morning.
To Be Continued...
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