An Unknown Agent

As a basketball fan in his previous life, Link knew just how important a good agent was to a player. So the day after receiving the call, he met with Carl Jones.

If possible, Link would of course have preferred to join a famous agent's roster. He believed that would improve his chances of signing with an NBA team.

If coaches helped players on the court, then agents were their coaches off it.

Agents helped players handle their business affairs and many aspects of their personal lives. A good agent could make a player's career far more successful with far less effort.

If possible, Link would of course have liked to have a top agent. Someone like Bill Duffy, who was well known to Chinese fans, or Dan Fegan. But the cruel truth was that he had no choice.

Why would any of those top agents take an interest in a lowly undrafted player?

And so Link met with Carl Jones, an agent who had approached him himself.

"I watched that game. You were incredible. I think the G League is far too small a stage for you. I really want to help you make it to the NBA. You're going to be a star, man."

As the young white man before him talked enthusiastically, Link couldn't help feeling a little doubtful. Everyone knew that sports agents needed connections and experience. Going with a young agent came with significant risks.

Of course, there had been cases in NBA history where an agent rose to prominence alongside a player. But those were the exceptions. Most famous agents had partnered with their players before they became stars.

Still, Link had no other choice. He did need an agent to handle his dealings with NBA teams. And this Carl Jones seemed to be his only option.

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

Only after the other man had finished speaking did Link finally respond. In the G League, Link earned less than $20,000 a year. What kind of agent could he afford?

But the other man didn't seem to mind. He had clearly expected this.

"I don't need a salary. I just want a cut of the contracts you sign with teams and the commercial deals you land. In fact, at least 28 of the top 30 draft picks each year pay their agents. That's how players choose to become a particular agent's clients. But like you, I don't have the money to prove my sincerity. So why don't we help each other out? I'll help you get endorsements and an NBA contract. And you can feel free to choose me."

Link pursed his lips. He could accept the commission. After all, an agent's cut from a player's contract was very small, usually no more than 4 percent. As for a cut from commercial deals...what kind of commercial deals could Link get right now?

"You're sure you can get me an NBA contract?" After thinking it over, Link decided to give it a try. He didn't want to waste too much time in the G League, either.

"I guarantee it, Link. Your skin color, your background, and your performance on the court are all advantages! Trust me, getting you a ten-day contract won't be difficult."

"Then let's sign a one-year deal first. If things go well, we can renew it."

Link wasn't ready to trust the man completely. A one-year contract was the safest option. If the agent turned out to be incompetent, Link could switch to someone else right away.

"No problem. It's good that you're cautious, Link. I'll get to work tomorrow. Trust me, it won't be long—maybe not even a month—before you're playing in the NBA. And then you'll realize signing with me was the best decision you ever made."

Carl Jones grinned as he pulled out the contract. A partnership between an unknown agent and an unknown player had begun.

Zeke Upshaw was 26, with his 27th birthday just three months away.

Twenty-six was still a golden age for an ordinary person. But for a professional athlete, it was no longer young.

Upshaw knew it himself. At his age, if he still hadn't made it to the NBA in two years, his best years might be spent in the G League.

The G League paid little, offered no security, and drew few spectators. But every player knew that if they could survive in the league, they had a chance to make it to the NBA.

Upshaw knew all that, even though he was already 26.

The NBA was like some utopian dream world, driving hundreds and thousands of players like Upshaw to keep fighting for survival in the ruthless world of basketball.

Yesterday, Upshaw had scored 17 points on the court. Now he was wearing a filthy uniform, sitting in a car wash.

As an NBDL player, Upshaw could just about make ends meet if he lived alone. But unfortunately, he had a family to support. So whenever he didn't have a game, he had to find other work.

It was midday, and the car wash was quiet. Upshaw had just finished lunch and was sitting inside, looking at his phone. On the screen was a news story about yesterday's game. It showed his picture and mentioned that he had scored 17 points.

Upshaw smiled faintly as he read the story. Only then could he feel like a real professional athlete.

"Zeke, are you busy?"

While Upshaw was lost in his dream of being a professional player, someone arrived at the car wash entrance. When he looked up and saw who it was, Upshaw broke into a wide grin. It was none other than his best friend on the Blue Team, Tom Lin—Link.

"Big star Link! Hahaha, that's what all my coworkers at the car wash have been calling you today. So, how'd it go with the agent?" Upshaw walked over and hugged Link. He wouldn't forget all the perfect passes Link had given him yesterday.

"We signed for a year. Hopefully he can help me land an NBA contract soon. Come on, come shoot around with me." Link's goal now was not only to make it to the NBA, but also to fill up that little white bar as soon as possible.

The stronger Link became, the better his chances of surviving.

Upshaw glanced back at the car wash and gave a bitter smile. "I need this fifty dollars, Link."

The day before, Upshaw's sister had found a dress she liked. It wasn't expensive. She hadn't asked him for it, but he could tell how much she wanted it. Still, even a dress that cost only $200 would take four days of work at the car wash for Upshaw to afford.

He wanted to surprise his sister, to bring a little hope and happiness to his struggling family. But all of it came at the cost of his own sacrifices.

Link patted Upshaw on the back to show he understood. Link didn't have to support his parents right now; just keeping himself alive was already difficult. So he knew how much financial pressure Upshaw was under. After all, Upshaw had more than just himself to take care of.

"I'll pass you the ball again in our next game. We'll both make it to the NBA." Link was someone who never forgot a kindness. He never went easy on his enemies, like Brockman, but he wouldn't turn his back on his friends, either.

"I'm not sure about me, but you'll make it. Hey, when you get to the NBA, I'll give you a pair of sneakers. You can wear them when you play in the league."

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

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

If someone else could make his NBA dream come true, Upshaw would be happy for them. That Chinese-American worked hard. He deserved to succeed.

By then, Link was already far away, and Upshaw was getting ready to get back to work. But suddenly, the Black player clutched his chest and crouched down.

Ten seconds later, Upshaw was back to normal. He didn't seem to care about what had just happened.

Or maybe, with even the necessities of life already so hard to afford, he simply had no energy or money left to worry about his health.

After all, these symptoms had been going on for a whole year...