Brave the Forward

Zeke Upshaw, 26 years old, with a month and a half until his 27th birthday.

At 1.98 meters tall and 98 kilograms, he had the ordinary physical build of a guard. If you tried searching online for anything about Zeke Upshaw, you'd find little beyond the fact that he once played at Illinois State University, went to Europe to chase a paycheck, and then returned to the NBDL.

That was Zeke Upshaw—a 26-year-old, older-than-average player with unremarkable credentials, whose skills surpassed millions on this planet but whose salary did not.

He should have had a better future. Maybe he could have earned a 10-day contract with his three-point shooting percentage. Then, with a stint in the NBA, perhaps a longer extension—maybe a one-year minimum deal?

At least when he could no longer run or jump as high, he could proudly tell himself, "I was an NBA player. I achieved my dream."

He should have had infinite possibilities. But all of that vanished the moment his heart stopped.

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

That was what Blue team head coach Conner said to reporters, and the line that stuck with Link the most.

After Upshaw's death, only local Oklahoma news covered the story heavily. In much of the rest of America, people didn't even know a professional player had died during a game. No wonder Link had never heard any news about Zeke Upshaw back then.

If even the U.S. didn't widely report it, how could such information spread abroad?

People kept commuting to work. The NBA kept putting on its show. The Earth kept spinning, and life went on.

No one would notice a player like that. After all, compared to the household names, he was far too insignificant.

He wasn't like James, who could throw down a dunk over two defenders every night. He wasn't like Kobe, who could cold-bloodedly kill games in clutch moments. He had no luxury cars to show off, no endorsements or commercial events tied to him.

He was just a player who stepped onto the court, struggled to survive with the Oklahoma City Blue, and earned a living to support himself.

A guy who gazed up every night at the millionaires playing in the NBA, chasing that dream in the NBDL. That was all.

Or, to use a term Link could relate to more deeply—a bottom-tier player.

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

"Press forward."

Those words Upshaw had written to him in his letter lingered in Link's mind.

Played by Carl Jones and Morey, kicked out of the NBA. Link had thought his own career was bad enough. But compared to what Upshaw had given, it was nothing.

After returning from the Rockets, Link automatically went back to the Oklahoma City Blue, earning an annual salary of $13,000. Going from making $50,000 in ten days to $13,000 in a year—that kind of gap wasn't something everyone could handle.

But Link wasn't afraid, because he would press forward.

The Rockets incident had also jolted Link awake from his beautiful dream. From the first day he'd transmigrated, he'd met kind Upshaw and fair Coach Conner.

But Carl Jones and Morey had made Link realize that not everyone in this world would help him, and not everyone would treat him well. He couldn't trust someone so easily anymore, especially in a circle as profit-driven as professional basketball.

Link's basketball skills were defying the norm, but his life experience wasn't. At the end of the day, Link was just a fresh-out-of-college loser student.

Still, a fall into a pit, a gain in wit. If he ever ran into issues with managers again, he'd think twice.

Link clenched his teeth. The next chapter of Upshaw's life was something people would never see. But he would carry Upshaw's hopes and dreams and keep fighting!

Just as Link was pondering life, his phone rang at an inopportune moment. The caller ID showed an unknown number, but when he answered, he heard Carl Jones's voice.

"Don't be stubborn, you fool! Without me, you'll amount to nothing! Listen, I've heard the Golden State Warriors are interested in signing you. If you keep playing nice, I guarantee you'll walk away with tens of thousands of dollars in these ten-plus days!"

Without even a greeting, Carl Jones launched straight into it as soon as the call connected.

"Say that first part again?" Link had been about to hang up, but he suddenly had something to say to his former manager.

"I said, the Golden State Warriors..."

"No," Link interrupted. "The part before that."

"Without me, you'll amount to nothing!" Jones shot back without backing down.

"Yeah, watch this, you scumbag. Without you, I can do better than this. I can land a big contract, score millions or even tens of millions in endorsements. I don't need to play some damn shooting game at a park or taste-test for some restaurant. Without you, I can do everything. And without me, you'll be nothing but a con man for the rest of your life. Because from now on, you'll lose my trust and everyone else's."

"Who do you think you are? You're just a worthless player no one wants..." Before Carl Jones could finish his rant, Link had already ended the call.

This kid wasn't going to trust a stranger so easily anymore. He wouldn't be pushed around. And of course, he knew he didn't have to be friendly to everyone. Especially not to someone who had deceived him.

After hanging up, Link walked out of his house. Life had to go on, and his NBA path wasn't completely cut off.

※※※

Originally, because Link had just returned from the Rockets and had spent the last two days at the hospital with Upshaw, Conner wanted to give him two days off to rest before training.

But at this moment, Link didn't want to wait a single minute. He knew he had to press forward.

So when Conner saw Link on the training court, he was very surprised.

"Didn't I tell you I was giving you two days off?"

"No, I don't need rest, Coach." Facing the question, Link answered decisively.

"From what I know, you haven't slept in two nights. You know I can't afford to lose another player!"

"I slept well 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, boss. Besides, we really need him on the court tomorrow."

Just as the "negotiation" between Conner and Link hit a stalemate, a third voice cut in. Link turned his head and saw his former rival, Jon Brockman.

"Tomorrow, we're up against the Rio Grande Valley Vipers. Without Link, how are we supposed to deal with the Vipers' starting forward, Demare Carroll? Don't worry, he'll go home and get a good night's sleep today, and he'll be sharp tomorrow. Right, Link?"

Looking at Brockman, who was smiling at him, Link was a bit stunned. He hadn't expected Brockman to speak up for him.

"One more thing, boss—the Rio Grande Valley Vipers are the Houston Rockets' affiliate. You don't want him to miss this game. Houston dumped him, and now they're walking right into our hands. Let me and Link fight side by side. Let's show those bastards in Houston what we're made of!"

"That's right!" Seeing Brockman's enthusiasm, Link struck while the iron was hot. "Even for Zeke's sake, we absolutely cannot lose the next game! Let's send Zeke off with a big win."

Conner looked at the two forwards before him, equally astonished. Link actually standing on the same side as Jon Brockman caught Conner completely off guard.

But he had to admit, he was convinced. The Vipers as an opponent meant something special to Link—it was his chance to show the team that had abandoned him, the Rockets, what they'd missed.

Besides, with Upshaw just gone, the team really needed a big win to lift morale. But if no one matched up against the Vipers' star player, Demare Carroll, the Blue Team would be in a tough spot.

"I'll control your playing time, and after today's practice, you go home early—no staying late for extra drills. If you can do that, I'll let you play tomorrow."

Conner finally caved in a roundabout way. Link didn't answer with a yes or no; instead, he walked up and hugged Conner, whispering softly in his ear, "Thank you."

Then, Link and Brockman exchanged a glance.

"Don't get me wrong—Zeke was my teammate too, and I'm hurting. So I want to deliver a win for him as well. And yeah, same as you, I hate those bastards who look down on us. The Rockets not signing you? I gotta say, that's the dumbest move in their franchise history."

Brockman spread his hands after speaking, then turned and walked away.

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

Houston, the Rockets' affiliate, Upshaw, matching up against a star... all these keywords made it impossible for Link to suppress the fire surging through his veins.

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