NBA: Road to glory

May 15, 2013 – Chicago, Illinois

The moment I stepped into the gym, I could feel the tension in the air. The best young prospects from around the world had gathered here, all fighting for a spot in the NBA. Scouts, GMs, and coaches lined the perimeter, clipboards in hand, whispering to each other, analyzing every movement.

I adjusted my jersey. 'No pressure,bro'

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Franklin Lincoln, right? Lefty with a seven-foot wingspan?" A tall man in a polo shirt approached me, extending a hand. "I'm Mike Schmidt from DraftExpress. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

I shook his hand. "Of course."

"What do you want teams to know about your game?"

I smiled. "I can do it all—handle the ball, shoot, defend multiple positions. I play to win."

Mike nodded. "People compare you to Blake Griffin, and as a versatile lefty with size with better potential, coupled with a little Kevin Durant in you. Do you see that?"

I shrugged. "I just want to be my own player, otherwise they are good."

Mike jotted something down. "Alright, good luck out there."

This first day was filled with interviews left and right, I was asked my opinion on this and that.

– May 16, 2013

Day two was all about measurables. Height, weight, wingspan, standing reach—all the details teams used to determine my potential.

"Six-foot-ten barefoot, seven-foot wingspan," an official called out as I extended my arms.

'I didn't even realize it but it looks like I've finally reached my maximum size.' I saw a couple of scouts whispering and nodding. 'Good sign.'

Next came agility drills. Lane agility, shuttle run, vertical leap. The pressure was on. I exploded off the ground for my max vertical—48 inches. 'Damn, the record from 2021'

"Not bad, a new record Lincoln and at 6'10" one of the trainers said, patting my back.

– May 17-18, 2013

Scrimmages were where I could really prove myself. I stepped onto the court, matching up against other top prospects.

"Yo, Lincoln" a familiar voice called out. It was Trey Burke, one of the top point guards in the draft, and a guy I've played against before. "You're ready?"

"Always." I answer him.

The game tipped off. I wasted no time, grabbing a defensive rebound and pushing the ball up the court. I found Ben McLemore on the wing—boom, easy assist.

Next possession, I caught the ball at the top of the key, jab-stepped, and drove left. The defender recovered, but I spun back to my right and finished at the rim.

"Nice move, kid" A voice from the sideline—maybe a scout?—called out.

As the scrimmage continued, I did what I did best: score in every position imaginable, facilitated, defended. My versatility was on full display. Other guys weren't bad either but I just feel like I was the best.

After the game, a few executives approached me.

"Lincoln, we'd like to have you in for a workout," one of them said.

I nodded."It's whenever you want."

– May 19, 2013

The final day was all about team interviews. I sat across from a panel of executives.

"Franklin, tell us why we should draft you," one of them asked.

I leaned forward. "Because I make winning plays. I won at every level I went to."

They exchanged glances and nodded."But there are other rather interesting players, in this draft class like Anthony Bennett, even if he hasn't earned as much as you, his potential may be higher" An executive of the Cavaliers says."Sir if I were you I would draft the guy from Greece before thinking about Bennett" I told him. Which seems not to have pleased him. I already know that what I just did is not necessarily very ethical, plus I was probably recorded saying that or filmed, but in the future people will say that I was visionary."Do you have any idea where you would see yourself being drafted?" Another asks me."No, I don't have a preference." Everyone has one but it's better not to say it.

The combine was over... 

Now, it was up to the teams. I had done everything I could.

– Late May to Early June 2013

The next few weeks were a blur of flights, hotel rooms, and gym sessions. Each workout was intense, designed to push me to my limits and test my ability to fit into a system. Every front office had their own way of evaluating talent—some focused on shooting drills, others put me through defensive scenarios, and some just wanted to see me compete in full-court scrimmages.

"You're good against pros, Lincoln," one coach said after a particularly grueling workout. "But do you see yourself fitting into the team's rotation?"

I wiped the sweat from my face. A few nods of approval. Another good sign.

Every workout felt like an audition, every conversation like an interview.

– June 2013

The hardest part came next—waiting.

My agent kept me updated, but the uncertainty was brutal. On social media, people see me being taken as number one.

"Teams like your versatility," he told me over the phone one evening. "But the draft is unpredictable. Anything can happen."

I spent my days in the gym, trying to block out the noise. Every mock draft had me at the same spot—as a first pick.

Draft Night – June 27, 2013

The day had finally arrived. I stood in front of the mirror, taking in my reflection. My retwists were fresh, my navy-blue Dior wool serge suit fitted perfectly—a gift from my agent for the occasion.

"Looking sharp, son," my father, Pete, said with a proud smile.

My mother, Martha, gently fixed my tie. "No matter what happens tonight, we're so proud of you."

My sister, Cee-Cee, grinned. 

I turned to my childhood friend, Vic. "Man, can you believe this? We used to hoop at the park, dreaming about this night."

Vic chuckled. "Now it's real, bro. You earned this."

Asher, my other close friend, patted my back. "Well done brother"

"Time to go to the Barclays Center" Dom Pagnotti, my agent tells us.

With my family and closest friends by my side, we stepped into the car, heading to the draft venue. 

This was it.

Tonight, my life would change forever.