Press On

Zeke, Upshaw was 26, with his 27th birthday just a month and a half away.

He stood six-foot-six and weighed 216 pounds—ordinary physical measurements for a guard. If you tried searching online for anything about Zeke Upshaw, you'd find little beyond the fact that he'd played at Illinois State University, gone to Europe to make a living, and then returned to the NBDL.

That was Zeke Upshaw: 26 years old, on the older side, with an unremarkable résumé. His skills were better than those of millions of people on this planet, yet he didn't make much money.

He should have had a brighter future. Maybe his three-point shooting could earn him a 10-day contract. Then, if things went well in the NBA, he might get a longer extension—or perhaps even a one-year minimum contract.

At the very least, when he could no longer run or jump, he could proudly tell himself, "I used to be an NBA player. I made my dream come true."

He should have had endless possibilities, but all of them vanished the moment his heart stopped.

"I find it hard to believe that the world won't get to see the next chapter of his life."

Those were the words Blue Team head coach Conner had said to the reporters, and they were the words that had left the deepest impression on Link.

After Upshaw's death, only the local news in Oklahoma had given the story extensive coverage. Many other parts of the United States hadn't even heard that a professional player had died during a game. No wonder Link had never heard anything about Zeke Upshaw back then.

If the news hadn't even spread across the United States, how could it possibly have reached other countries?

People kept commuting to work, and the NBA kept putting on a show. The Earth continued to spin, and life went on as usual.

No one would pay attention to a player like him. Compared with the household names, he was simply too insignificant.

He wasn't like James, who could carry two defenders and throw down a dunk every night. He wasn't like Kobe, who could cold-bloodedly kill a game again and again in the clutch. He had no luxury cars to show off, and endorsements and promotional events had nothing to do with him.

He was just a player who took the court, struggled to get by with the Oklahoma City Blue, and earned enough to support his family.

Just a guy who looked up at the wealthy stars playing in the NBA every night, holding on to that dream as he fought his way through the NBDL. Nothing more.

Or, in a phrase Link could relate to more: a player at the bottom of the ladder.

After attending Upshaw's funeral, Link returned home and gazed out at the street.

"Press on."

The words Upshaw had written to him in the letter kept circling through Link's mind.

He'd been toyed with by Carl Jones and Morey, then kicked out of the NBA. Link had thought his career was already bad enough, but compared to everything Upshaw had endured, his troubles were nothing.

After leaving the Rockets, Link had automatically returned to the Oklahoma City Blue, earning an annual salary of $13,000. Going from making $50,000 in ten days to earning $13,000 in a year was a drop not everyone could handle.

But Link wasn't afraid. He would press on.

The whole Rockets affair had also woken Link from a sweet dream. From the very first day after he'd crossed over, he'd met the kind-hearted Upshaw and the fair-minded Coach Conner.

But Carl Jones and Morey had made Link realize that not everyone in the world would help him, and not everyone would treat him well. He couldn't trust people so easily anymore, especially in a world like professional basketball, where so much money was at stake.

Link's basketball abilities were growing in reverse, but his life experience wasn't. When all was said and done, he was just a college kid who'd only recently entered the working world.

Still, you learned from your mistakes. If he ever ran into another problem involving an agent, he'd be sure to think it through carefully.

Link clenched his teeth. People would never get to see Upshaw's next chapter, but Link would keep working hard, carrying Upshaw's hopes and dreams with him.

Just as Link was thinking about life, his phone rang at an awkward moment. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number, but as soon as he answered, he heard Carl Jones's voice.

"Quit being stubborn, kid! Without me, you'll never amount to anything! Listen, I heard the Golden State Warriors are very interested in signing you. If you keep listening to me, I guarantee you can go home with tens of thousands of dollars in your pocket over the next ten-plus days!"

Without even bothering to greet him, Carl Jones had launched straight into a string of remarks the instant Link picked up.

"Say that last part again?" Link had been about to end the call, but suddenly he had something to say to his former agent.

"I said, the Golden State Warriors—"

"No," Link cut in. "The part before that."

"Without me, you'll never amount to anything!" Jones answered without backing down.

"Yeah? Watch closely, you piece of trash. I can do better without you. I can get a big contract. I can land endorsements worth millions or even tens of millions. I won't have to go to some damn park to play an arcade basketball game, and I won't have to taste-test food for some restaurant. I can do anything without you. And without me, you'll be nothing but a con man for the rest of your life. From now on, you've lost my trust—and everyone else's, too."

"Who do you think you are? You're just a washed-up player nobody wants—" Carl Jones hadn't even finished cursing when Link ended the call.

Link wasn't going to trust a stranger so easily again, and he wouldn't let anyone push him around. Of course, he also knew he didn't have to be so friendly to everyone—especially not someone who had deceived him before.

After ending the call, Link walked out of the house. Life had to go on, and his path to the NBA hadn't been completely cut off.

Originally, since Link had just returned from the Rockets and had spent the past two days keeping vigil at Upshaw's bedside in the hospital, Conner had wanted him to rest for a couple of days before training.

But right now, Link didn't want to wait even a minute. He knew he had to press on!

So when Conner saw Link at the training court, he was extremely surprised.

"Didn't I tell you to take two days off?"

"No, I don't need to rest, Coach." Faced with the question, Link answered without hesitation.

"As far as I know, you haven't slept in two nights. I can't afford to lose another player!"

"I slept great last night, Coach. I just want to play. Don't worry, I'll make sure I'm full of energy tomorrow."

Link kept practicing on his own, showing no sign of stopping.

"He's right, Coach. Besides, we really need him on the court tomorrow."

Just as the "negotiations" between Conner and Link had reached an impasse, a third voice suddenly broke in. Link turned around and saw his former nemesis, Jon Brockman.

"Tomorrow, we're playing the Rio Grande Valley Vipers. Without Link, how are we supposed to handle their star forward, DeMarre Carroll? Don't worry. He'll go home and get a good night's sleep today, and tomorrow he'll be raring to go. Right, Link?"

Brockman was smiling at him, and Link was a little stunned. He hadn't expected Brockman to speak up for him.

"Just a reminder: the Rio Grande Valley Vipers are affiliated with the Houston Rockets. You wouldn't want him to miss this game, Coach. Houston dumped him, and now they've come right to us. Let Link and me fight side by side. We'll show those bastards in Houston what we think of them!"

"Exactly!" Seeing Brockman so fired up, Link seized the moment. "Even if it's just for Zeke, we can't lose the next game! Let's send Zeke off with a big win."

Conner looked at the two forwards in front of him, just as surprised. Link standing on the same side as Jon Brockman had caught him completely off guard.

Still, he had to admit they'd convinced him. The Vipers meant a lot to Link. This was his chance to show the Rockets, who had dumped him, what they were missing.

And Upshaw had just died. The team really did need a big win to boost morale. But if no one could match up with the Vipers' star, DeMarre Carroll, the Blue Team would be in a tough spot.

"I'll limit your playing time. Also, go home early after practice today. No staying behind to get in extra work. If you can do that, I'll let you play tomorrow."

Conner finally gave in, though he went about it in a roundabout way. Link didn't answer yes or no. Instead, he walked over, hugged Conner, and whispered, "Thank you."

After that, Link and Brockman looked at each other.

"Don't get the wrong idea. Zeke was my teammate, too, and I'm hurting as well. I want to win one for him. And just like you, I hate those bastards who look down on us. The Rockets didn't sign you? I have to say, that was the dumbest move in their franchise's history."

Brockman spread his hands, then turned and walked away.

Link watched Brockman's retreating back, picked up the basketball from the floor, and clenched his teeth.

Houston, the Rockets' affiliate, Upshaw, matching up against a star... All those words made Link's blood surge uncontrollably.

Tomorrow, the "Vipers" would be slaughtered in Oklahoma City by the yellow-skinned "Warrior"!