UCLA's 13-game winning streak had cemented Yuuto as a lock for the lottery.
People had been using Kobe as his player comparison, suggesting that was his ceiling.
But some meticulous scouts argued it wasn't an accurate comparison.
Court vision. Playmaking ability.
What he'd done against Colorado—the near-buzzer-beater three, the two blocks—had shifted his draft comparison.
It wasn't about shot selection or volume. It was that Yuuto's passing talent far exceeded Kobe's.
As Yuuto's role on the team solidified, his stat line after 13 games averaged out to 32.5 points, 5 rebounds, 7.8 assists, 3.5 steals, and 4 blocks.
Those numbers looked more like something LeBron James would produce—incredibly well-rounded.
But the problem was, nobody would compare Yuuto to LeBron. Their playing styles were fundamentally different.
LeBron relied on his body to bulldoze through defenders. Yuuto prioritized skill.
So some began suggesting his comparison should be Michael Jordan. After all, Jordan had once gone through a phase of racking up triple-doubles, during which the media questioned whether he was too ball-dominant and just a stat-padder.
He then went on a rampage of triple-doubles to prove his critics wrong.
But even then.
Jordan couldn't shut the media up with his triple-doubles, because many of those numbers came from his otherworldly individual ability.
Yuuto was in the same boat now. Most people believed his assists were only so high because he was so good he could pad whatever stats he wanted.
Ultimately, Yuuto's player comparison was settled as: ceiling—Jordan.
Of course.
It was just a comparison. It didn't prove anything.
How a player developed depended on individual effort.
Three days later, Yuuto took the court again with his team. This time, their opponent was the USC Trojans once more.
The NCAA schedule was straightforward: every team played home and away against conference opponents, with roughly 20-30 games per season.
This time, they were traveling to enemy territory to face USC on their home floor.
...
Meanwhile, the Portland Trail Blazers had also taken notice of Yuuto.
Speaking of the Blazers, you had to mention their owner—Paul Allen.
He was arguably one of the NBA's most dedicated owners. Fans often said the league owed him a championship.
This Microsoft co-founder, with a personal net worth exceeding $20 billion, was among the rare NBA owners who genuinely loved basketball.
After purchasing the Blazers for $70 million in 1988, he personally invested $200 million to build a state-of-the-art arena—the most expensive in the league at the time.
That arena became the Rose Garden.
Though due to naming rights issues, it would be renamed in 2013.
As for his annual investment in the team? Countless. If there was a chance at a championship, no luxury tax was too high.
Even Scottie Pippen's retirement contract came from the Blazers.
At Paul Allen's age, money was truly just a number.
His only remaining wish was to see the Blazers win an NBA championship in his lifetime.
He'd been working toward that goal since taking over in 1988. Twenty-four years later, that dream remained unfulfilled.
Last year, the Blazers weren't bad—48 wins, sixth in the West. Unfortunately, they ran into the Dallas Mavericks in the playoffs and lost to the eventual champions.
Their roster wasn't spectacular, but it wasn't terrible either.
They had LaMarcus Aldridge, drafted in 2006, who had developed into an All-Star caliber big man after years of refinement.
They also had Gerald Wallace, Brandon Roy, and Wesley Matthews—a near-All-Star averaging around 15 points.
This roster might not shine as bright as the Lakers', but they had capable players.
Yet head coach Nate McMillan was troubled.
Injuries kept plaguing Portland.
Roy had left during the offseason. The former golden child, once called "Baby Mamba," joined the Timberwolves this season and retired after just five games.
Gerald Wallace, at his peak, could put up 18-and-10. But since arriving in Portland, his numbers had declined—also due to injuries.
Even their franchise player Aldridge was battling ailments this year.
People joked that Portland's medical staff were veterinarians.
But Paul Allen had hired what was supposedly the world's finest medical team.
So they didn't blame the doctors—they blamed the city itself being cursed.
The endless injuries had turned a team that reached the second round last year into a lottery-bound squad.
Their current record: 24-34, one of the worst in the Western Conference.
An embarrassing turnaround.
They were sixth in the West last season. One year later? Near the bottom.
Ridiculous.
Paul Allen knew it was time to rebuild again. He'd been through this too many times.
At minimum, they needed a star perimeter player to pair with Aldridge as a dual cornerstone. Only then would they have a chance.
After all, Aldridge had long since proven he couldn't carry a team alone.
This was when Yuuto—dominating in the NCAA—entered their sights.
"I heard you have a connection to UCLA's coach?"
"Yes, Steve was my student."
Nate McMillan knew exactly what his owner was thinking—because he shared the same thoughts.
Paul Allen was a wonderful owner. So wonderful it made McMillan feel guilty.
He was willing to invest, fully supported his front office's decisions, and gave them whatever money they needed. All he asked for in return was a championship.
And the result?
Years of massive investment, and the Blazers remained mediocre. McMillan was embarrassed to even face his boss.
More than anyone, he wanted to repay Paul Allen's trust—and win a damn championship trophy.
"Will that kid declare for the draft after this season?" Paul Allen asked.
"I spoke with Steve. He said Yu will almost certainly declare after this year."
"What are our chances of getting him?"
"Very low."
"How low?"
McMillan thought for a moment before responding.
"Based on our current standings, if we finish here, the worst-case scenario is we end up with a pick around tenth overall."
"How hot is Yu right now?"
"ESPN's mock draft has him guaranteed top five, but our scouts believe he won't fall past third. Plus, I've heard Danny Ainge is also pursuing him."
"...They don't have a good enough roster already? And they have picks?"
Paul Allen was surprised. The Celtics' Big Three—was their record that bad?
How was a top-three pick any of their business?
"That's just who Danny Ainge is. If he thinks it's right, he'll trade anyone without hesitation—including Paul Pierce."
What a madman.
Pierce had been with the Celtics since entering the league. He'd publicly declared he bled green. He was fiercely loyal and had delivered a championship to Boston.
Yet Ainge would trade even him.
"Still, this confirms we're right to target Yu."
"Yes, but there's a lot of competition. Getting him won't be easy."
This year's draft class wasn't particularly loaded—not a golden generation like '96 or '03.
But the top two picks were extremely valuable because of Yuuto and Anthony Davis—two talents worthy of going first overall.
If Portland tanked now, they might land around fifth. Add some sweeteners, and they could definitely trade up.
But top two? That was far more difficult.
Portland's biggest trade asset was Aldridge, followed by Sixth Man of the Year candidate Jamal Crawford. Beyond that, their trade value dropped off significantly.
"Find a way to get him. If necessary, we can use LaMarcus as a trade chip."
"That's insane..."
McMillan was startled. Aldridge was drafted in 2006 and was just entering his prime.
Trading a peak-level All-Star big man for a rookie?
That was an all-in, house-on-fire gamble.
"If the Celtics can do it, why can't we?"
Paul Allen loved basketball. He loved the Blazers. But that didn't mean he actually understood roster construction.
What he did know was that Danny Ainge was an Executive of the Year caliber GM.
If Ainge dared to go all-in, he must have done exhaustive analysis and research.
If that was the case, why couldn't Portland do the same?
Since taking over the Blazers, they'd come close to success several times.
From the late '80s to early '90s, they reached three Finals—only to lose every time.
Back then, Clyde Drexler led Portland as the league's second-best shooting guard.
But because he was second—not first like Jordan—the Blazers could only settle for second place.
Aldridge was certainly a good player, but Paul Allen wanted first place.
He wanted to find Portland's own Jordan.
...
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