The Oklahoma City Blue were an utterly unremarkable team in the NBA G League.
The team had never won any honors, nor had it produced any particularly memorable players. Even its history was only two years long.
In 2005, the Alvis Heights Team relocated to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and changed its name to the Tulsa 66ers. Two years ago, the Tulsa 66ers moved again, leaving Tulsa, Oklahoma's second-largest city, for its largest, Oklahoma City, and renamed themselves the Oklahoma City Blue.
The move was clearly an attempt to catch the attention of the NBA's Oklahoma City Thunder, in hopes of becoming their G League affiliate.
That's right—the Blue Team still hadn't been claimed by any NBA parent team. Without a big-money backer, there was no telling how many years a small G League team like this could survive.
And because the Blue Team wasn't affiliated with any NBA team, its players had to stand out even more if they wanted to attract the attention of an NBA franchise.
Everyone still here was aiming to make it to the NBA.
The morning after breakfast, Link, who lived on the third floor, heard a car honking downstairs. He leaned out the window and saw a beat-up Chevrolet parked below.
He and Upshaw had agreed the day before to go train at the gym together. Upshaw had shown up on time, as usual. In Link's memory, Upshaw had always been dependable.
Link drew a deep breath. He was about to attend the first practice of his professional career! He had the memories of the body's previous owner, but those weren't his own experiences. So he was still a little nervous about the practice ahead.
But when he thought of what had happened on the basketball court the day before, he relaxed a little. If he really had Grant Hill's ability now—even the older Grant Hill's—he should have no trouble playing in the G League!
Link remembered that during Hill's time with the Suns, he'd averaged around ten points a game in the NBA. A player who could score around ten points per game in the NBA shouldn't have much trouble in the G League.
Link clenched his fists. He had to seize this opportunity and do everything he could to earn a guaranteed NBA contract this season!
"I didn't sleep a wink last night."
As soon as Link got into the car, Upshaw started complaining.
"Why not?"
"Your performance scared me. Since when could you shoot so accurately? And your body... You don't look any different, but I swear you've gotten stronger." Upshaw still couldn't believe everything Link had done the day before.
After shooting threes, Link had tried some mid-range shots, and those had been just as accurate. Then he and Upshaw had played a few rounds of one-on-one.
Link's savvy positioning and physical defense had knocked Upshaw off balance and left him struggling to move. But before, Upshaw had been able to overpower Link with his strength! In the end, Link beat him 10–2. The only basket Upshaw scored was one Link had let him have.
"Heh, I was going all out yesterday, while you were just treating it like a warm-up. That's why you couldn't shove me around. You know Coach Conner hasn't been too fond of me lately, so I have to stay fired up." Link scratched his head sheepishly.
"You're right. You turned the ball over twice as soon as you checked in during the last game, and your performance in practice hasn't been great either. Coach Conner isn't a bad guy, but your recent play really has... You'd better give it your all at practice today, Link. Hopefully, you can play like you did last night."
"I'll work hard. With a great practice partner like you, how could I not improve?" Link said, holding out his fist. Upshaw grinned and lightly bumped fists with the Chinese-American kid beside him.
It seemed Link had already gotten used to having an African American friend.
A little over ten minutes later, Link and Upshaw arrived at their practice facility, which was also the Oklahoma City Blue's home court: the Cox Convention Center.
Although they were in the same city as the Thunder, the Blue weren't affiliated with them, so they couldn't use the Chesapeake Energy Arena for games or practice.
The Cox Convention Center wasn't as impressive as the Chesapeake Energy Arena, but it was still a sizable building. From the memories in Link's mind, he knew the arena, which could hold around 12,000 spectators, had been converted from an old, unused sports venue.
It wasn't as luxurious as an NBA team's home court, but to someone like Link, who had never played professional basketball, it was still quite impressive.
"Hey, Zeke, didn't sleep well last night? You've got some serious bags under your eyes."
"Zeke, did you come with Link?"
"Morning, Zeke. How are you feeling today?"
As soon as they entered the gym, plenty of people called out to Link and Upshaw. Link looked around at the tall, burly professional players, his head spinning.
These players would be elite almost anywhere else, but in the United States, they could only make a meager living in the G League. It showed just how incredible those "freaks of nature" in the NBA were.
Link nodded to each of his teammates in greeting. The old Link had been quiet and reserved, never one to offend anyone, so he hadn't been ostracized or pushed aside because of his skin color. Of course, he hadn't been particularly close to everyone, either.
On the Blue Team, it seemed only the outgoing Upshaw had been willing to befriend Link.
Of course, not everyone on the team was so friendly to Link. Just as he and Upshaw were about to head to the locker room, a muscular white player with a black buzz cut walked out.
He looked mean just from his expression, with none of the refined air people associated with white players. When he saw Link, the buzz-cut bruiser smirked. "Well, if it isn't Weakling Lin. You're healed already? Your head okay? Hahahaha! I didn't mean to knock you down. You're just so frail."
Link knew that the word "chink," which sounded similar to "chicken," had nothing to do with the bird. Besides meaning "weakling," it was a blatant racial slur. It was like saying the N-word to a Black person's face.
"That's enough, Jon! Leave him alone. We're teammates, aren't we?" Upshaw shoved the big white man, coming to Link's defense.
"Hahaha, fine, I'll leave him alone. But I'll have to guard him on the court later." Jon spread his hands and headed toward the gym.
Jon Brockman had been selected by the Trail Blazers with the eighth pick of the second round in 2009, then traded to the Sacramento Kings. He had been a starting forward at the University of Washington, capable of playing both the three and the four. A nimble "Big White Bear," he was exceptional in the paint and attacked aggressively, playing a powerful, physical game. He often roared on the court, wrestled opponents to the floor, and battered the rim. He was nothing like the stereotypical soft white player.
Last season, he had played 52 games for the Kings, averaging 2.8 points and 4.1 rebounds. The rest of the time, he had spent in the G League.
This season, Brockman had been traded to the Bucks and played 15 games for them, averaging 2.2 points and 2.9 rebounds. Those awkward stats had landed him back in the G League, where he had become Link's teammate.
On a G League team, teammates weren't all that close. That was especially true of players at the same position. Everyone in the G League was trying to make the NBA with standout performances, so teammates at the same position were more like rivals.
That was why Brockman had never been very fond of Link. He had to bully the Asian forward in practice to hold on to his starting spot. And only by keeping that starting spot could he attract the attention of an NBA team.
Two days earlier, Link had been chasing Brockman during practice when Brockman had secretly tripped him as he leaped into the air, causing him to fall and hit the back of his head. Link had passed out as a result.
"Ignore him. That damned white guy always thinks he's better than everyone else. Don't let him get to you. Just play well in practice." Once they were in the locker room, Upshaw tried to reassure Link.
Those so-called "civilized people" always looked down on people of color, yet sometimes they were even more brutal than the "savages."
The Americans had once called the Indians barbarians, but just look at how they had treated them.
"It's fine. I don't care what that idiot said." Link waved his hand. He wasn't some hothead who'd pick a fight just because he and someone else exchanged a few harsh words.
That kind of person only existed in comics.
Upshaw looked at Link in surprise again. The old Link had never cursed; he'd always been a refined young man. Why had his personality changed so much since leaving the hospital?
"Of course," Link said as he put on his jersey, "I'm not going to let him bully me, either. You're right—I should focus on practice. Then I'll make sure he humiliates himself."
Link had come from 2019, and he'd never heard of Jon Brockman before. That meant Brockman had never made a name for himself in the NBA.
A player Link had never even heard of wanted to take on Grant Hill? It wasn't arrogance—Link really could crush him!
I can't change how you bullied the old Link. But if you try to bully me now? Not a chance!
Before you continue