Mark Bartelstein answered the phone call with anticipation. If the Raptors were calling him, that meant they were interested in his client, DeMarre Carroll. He had his bargaining tactics pre-planned. If they proposed a lowball offer, Mark would trot out the advanced stats, the personal stories that exemplified DeMarre’s high character, and some fabricated offers from “undisclosed” GMs.
“Mark Bartelstein speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi Mark. It’s Masai Ujiri with the Raptors,” came the voice at the other end of the line. “I’m going to skip the niceties and get down to business here. We really like DeMarre Carroll. The intensity of my determination to sign DeMarre is rivaled only by the intensity of my hatred for Brooklyn.”
“That’s great news, Masai,” Mark said. From the sound of it, Masai might be ready to offer seven or eight per for two years, maybe three with a player option. If that was the case, the search was over, because no team up to this point had even hinted at anything close to that. “Did you have some numbers in mind? Remember that DeMarre’s been getting a lot of attention from front offices lately. I can hang up the phone at any time and DeMarre will get paid either way.”
Masai did not hesitate. “Fifty million over four years. Fully guaranteed.”
In that moment, all of Mark’s willpower was focused on the singular task of bottling up his laughter. Masai must have interpreted this silence as the “don’t insult my intelligence” kind of silence, because he soon blurted, “Sixty. Sixty million is what I meant.”
“I will have to talk to my client,” Mark said smoothly. “You will hear back from me soon.” As soon as the call ended, he placed another one.
“You’re not going to believe this, DeMarre…”