Unknown Manager

As a professional sports manager and a former basketball enthusiast in his past life, Link knew very well how important a good manager was to a player. So, the day after receiving the call, he met with Carl Jones.

If he could, Link would of course have preferred to become part of a well-known manager's roster. He believed that would better improve his chances of successfully signing with an NBA team.

If the coach was the one who helped players on the court, then a manager was a player's coach off the court.

A manager would help a player handle commercial operations and many aspects of daily life. A good manager could make a player's career twice as effective with half the effort.

If he could, Link would naturally want to have an ace manager. For example, Bill Duffy, who was very familiar to Chinese fans, or Dan Fagan. But the harsh truth was that he had no choice now.

How could those ace managers possibly take an interest in a lowly undrafted player?

So, Carl Jones, this self-recommended manager, met with Link just like that.

"I watched that game, and your performance was really great. I think the G League stage is too small for you. I really want to help you get into the NBA. You'll become a star, buddy."

Looking at the young white man in front of him bragging with great enthusiasm, Link couldn't help but feel a lack of confidence. As everyone knew, professional sports managers needed connections and experience very much. Hiring a young manager came with great risk.

Of course, there were examples in NBA history of managers becoming famous alongside their players. But those were the minority. Most famous managers established cooperative relationships with star players before they became well-known.

However, Link had no choice now. He really did need a manager to handle the matters of contacting NBA teams for him. Moreover, this Carl Jones in front of him seemed to be his only option.

"I know you really want to help me, but I'm afraid I can't afford to hire you."

After the other party finished speaking, Link finally spoke up. In the G League, Link's annual income was less than $20,000. What kind of manager could he possibly afford?

But the other party didn't seem to mind, obviously having anticipated this outcome.

"I don't need a salary. I'll just take a cut from the team contracts and commercial contracts you sign. In fact, every year, at least 28 out of the top 30 draft picks take money from managers. Because that's the only way a player will choose to become a certain manager's client. But like you, I don't have the money to show my sincerity either. So, why don't we each take what we need? I'll help you get commercial endorsements and an NBA contract. And you can confidently choose me."

Link pursed his lips. He could accept the commission. After all, a manager's cut from each contract was very small, generally no more than 4%. As for commercial contract commissions... what commercial contracts could Link get right now?

"Are you sure you can help me secure an NBA contract?" After thinking it over for a while, Link still wanted to give it a try. After all, he didn't want to waste too much time in the G League.

"I guarantee it, Link. Your skin color, your background, and your performance on the court—these are all advantages! Trust me, getting you a ten-day contract is not difficult for me."

"Then we can sign a one-year contract first. If the cooperation goes well, we can renew it."

Link didn't choose to fully trust the man in front of him. A one-year contract was the safest bet. If he found out later that this manager wasn't capable, Link could switch immediately.

"No problem. It's good that you have such caution, Link. I'll start working tomorrow. Trust me, it won't be long—maybe even less than a month—and you'll be standing on the NBA stage. When that happens, you'll find that signing with me was the best decision you ever made."

Carl Jones grinned slyly as he pulled out the contract. The cooperation between an unknown manager and an unknown player began right then and there.

Zeke Upshaw, 26 years old, with three months to go until his 27th birthday.

26 years old. For an ordinary person, that was still a golden age. But for a professional athlete, it was no longer young.

Upshaw himself knew very well that at his age, if he couldn't make it into the NBA within two years, the peak of his career would probably be spent in the G League.

The G League had low pay, no security, and few spectators. But the players knew that if they survived in this league, they would have a chance to play in the NBA.

Upshaw naturally understood this, even though he was already 26.

The NBA was like a utopian dream world, driving hundreds of players like Upshaw to keep struggling to survive in this brutal basketball world.

At this moment, Upshaw, who had just scored 17 points on the court yesterday, had now transformed, wearing a dirty uniform and sitting inside a car wash.

As a G League player, if Upshaw only had himself to support, he could barely get by. But unfortunately, he had a family to take care of. So, Upshaw had to do other things when there were no games.

It was noon now, and the car wash wasn't busy. Upshaw had just finished lunch and was sitting in the car wash looking at his phone. On the screen was news about yesterday's game. There was his photo, and a description of his 17-point performance.

Looking at the news, Upshaw smiled faintly. Only at moments like this could he feel like a real professional player.

"Zeke, busy?"

Just as Upshaw was immersed in his dream of being a professional player, someone appeared at the entrance of the car wash. When he looked up and saw the face of the visitor, Upshaw showed a mouthful of white teeth. It was none other than his best friend on the Blue Team, Tom Lin—Link.

"Big star Link! Hahaha, all my coworkers at the car wash are calling you that today. How was it? Did the signing with the manager go well?" Upshaw walked over and gave Link a hug. He wouldn't forget the brilliant passes Link had given him yesterday.

"Signed for one year. Hopefully, he can get me an NBA contract as soon as possible. Come on, let's go to the gym and practice for a bit." Besides getting into the NBA, Link's current goal was to fill up that white bar as quickly as possible.

Only by becoming stronger would Link have a better chance of survival.

Upshaw looked back at the car wash behind him and shook his head with a bitter smile. "I need this fifty dollars, Link."

Yesterday, Upshaw's little sister had taken a liking to a dress that wasn't too expensive. Although she hadn't asked for it, Upshaw could still tell she loved it. But a dress that cost just $200 required Upshaw to work four days at the car wash.

Upshaw wanted to surprise his sister, to bring some hope and joy to their struggling family. But all of that had to come at the cost of Upshaw's own sacrifice.

Link patted Upshaw on the back, showing understanding. Link didn't have to take care of his parents now, and just surviving on his own was already hard enough. So, he knew very well how much financial pressure Upshaw was under. After all, Upshaw had more than just himself to look after.

"I'll still pass you the ball in the next game. We'll both make it into the NBA." Link was a man of clear likes and dislikes. He showed no mercy to his enemies, like Brockman. But he wouldn't forget the kindness of his friends.

"I'm not sure about me, but you definitely can. Hey, the day you make it into the NBA, I'll give you a pair of sneakers. When that time comes, you wear them and play on the NBA court for me."

"No, you have to wear them yourself and play in the NBA, Zeke. I'm leaving. Come find me at the court whenever you have time."

Link waved goodbye and left, leaving Upshaw still smiling. In Link, he seemed to see his younger self.

If someone could fulfill his NBA dream for him, he would be very happy too. That Chinese guy worked hard; he deserved success.

By now, Link was far away, and Upshaw was about to go back to work. But suddenly, the black player clutched his chest and crouched down on the ground.

After more than ten seconds, Upshaw returned to normal. He seemed completely unconcerned about the symptom he had just experienced.

Or rather, since he could barely maintain even his basic living, he had no extra energy or money to worry about his body.

After all, this symptom had been going on for a whole year now...