Meeting

"Boss, I've already persuaded the Lakers to let Bruce Bowen and Ben Wallace join your practice squad for the Summer League. Both of them agreed to serve as your sparring partners without taking a salary." Pelinka called not long afterward.

"I've also finished coordinating with the players. They'll arrive at the Lakers' training facility soon. Also, while discussing this matter, team owner Jerry Buss contacted me. He wants to meet you." Pelinka had put considerable effort into settling matters with both the players and management. Bowen and Wallace had been fired up by the dazzling contract prospects he painted for them. West was also willing to do Kobe a favor. After all, the Summer League was made up of a bunch of insignificant players anyway; having those two made no difference, and neither did not having them.

"I knew you could do it, man. Dr. Buss? Set up a time for me. I can't wait to see him." Kobe felt as though two pieces of good news had arrived at once. In his previous life, he had torn his Achilles trying to fulfill the promise he had made before Jerry Buss died, leading the team into the playoffs. Now, he could see his old friend again.

Jerry Buss had made his fortune in real estate. In 1979, witnessed by a team of fifty lawyers, the business tycoon acquired the Los Angeles Lakers, the Los Angeles Kings hockey team, and the Los Angeles Forum, the Lakers' former home arena, for $67.5 million. Of that sum, $18 million went toward the NBA team, the Los Angeles Lakers.

During his tenure, great superstars such as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Magic Johnson, O'Neal, and Kobe Bryant had shone here one after another. In 1979, the Lakers alone were valued at $16 million, while Forbes estimated their value at $1 billion in 2013. On the evening of February 18, 2013, Beijing time, he died of cancer in Los Angeles at the age of eighty. It could be said that the modern Lakers' glory was inseparable from his leadership.

The following evening, Kobe met Jerry Buss by invitation at Spago in Beverly Hills. It was a restaurant founded by renowned chef Wolfgang Puck, beloved by Hollywood and countless wealthy figures.

"Very pleased to meet you, Dr. Buss." Kobe wore his trademark smile. He was genuinely delighted.

"Hello, kid." Sixty-three-year-old Jerry Buss had blond hair and was a little overweight. Kobe and Buss had a pleasant dinner conversation. They talked about basketball, society, and food. Buss had an excellent impression of the seventeen-year-old. He knew Kobe was talented, and he had seen plenty of talented players. But there were very few players he could chat with like this. He had seen too many Black players whose minds were blank except for basketball.

The last player Buss had been able to talk with so well was Magic Johnson. After all, Buss had earned his PhD in chemistry at the age of twenty-four. Kobe and Magic shared certain traits. After getting to know Kobe from every angle, he finally reached one conclusion: this kid was bound to succeed.

"Would you be willing to stay with the Lakers forever?" Dr. Buss asked Kobe as they were leaving.

"Once purple and gold, always a Laker." That was Kobe's promise. A promise worth its weight in gold.

"Very good, young man." Buss had received the answer he wanted, and he decided to give Kobe all the support he needed.

Three days later, at the Lakers' training facility, Kobe Bryant was playing one-on-one with Derek Fisher.

Fisher's defensive stance was textbook, his arms spread wide, his gaze resolute. His already well-developed muscles carried a considerable sense of intimidation.

Kobe held the ball, planted his pivot foot, and exploded to the right. The young Fisher was quick on his feet. Reacting in time, he slid laterally in succession and cut off Kobe's driving lane.

Kobe dribbled between his legs and pulled the ball to his left hand. After the pullback, he added a hop step, creating an enormous amount of space for his shot. The area near the free-throw line was also one of Kobe's hot zones. He rose straight up and shot, and the ball swished through the hoop.

"You can't guard me. You didn't disrupt my shot at all. Your defense is as soft as cotton candy!" Kobe liked to talk trash to his teammates during practice. It was his way of leading. Some mentally fragile players simply could not take it and came close to breaking down, while many strong-minded players benefited from it. But there was no denying that his approach made most of his teammates dare not let their guard down in practice or on the court.

Fisher had already been thoroughly beaten into submission by Kobe over the past two days. He simply could not understand how a seventeen-year-old high schooler could be this good. Was this the difference between the twenty-fourth pick and the thirteenth pick? Then just how strong must the first overall pick be? He sank into deep self-reflection.

Two days earlier, Derek Fisher had felt that he had reached the peak of his life. Having been drafted by the Los Angeles Lakers, he had become a major celebrity in Little Rock, Arkansas. In that small place, he was the brightest star in the Rock City. Even walking down the street, people would come up to strike up conversations with him. It was an experience he had never had in his life. But while he was still basking in the enthusiasm of the older girls back home, before he had even enjoyed a few good days, he received a call from management.

"Mr. Fisher, this is Lakers executive Jerry West. Here's the situation: the team's training plan has changed. We need you to report to the team early and prepare for the Summer League."

Not daring to offend management, he could only obediently rush to Los Angeles. One day he had been enjoying the warmth of his hometown; the next, he ran into this little demon at the training facility! He dragged me into a one-on-one game and insisted that whoever lost would become the other's lackey!

Me, the boss of Rock City, lose to a seventeen-year-old high schooler? What a joke. Even if I used only my left hand and didn't shoot, you little brat still couldn't beat me. Fisher had been ready to take on a lackey and smoothly begin his Lakers career, but what happened next made him question his entire life. Forget giving up one hand or refusing to shoot—under Kobe's defense, he could not even dribble. The moment he put the ball on the floor, it was stolen. What could a point guard do if he could not dribble?

Kobe's offense was even more unfathomable to Fisher. He counted it up: in a one-on-one game to twenty-one, Kobe had blown past him nine times. On some possessions, after getting past him, Kobe seemed unsatisfied and dribbled back beyond the three-point line to do it all over again. Was he a demon?

In the end, the 21-0 score declared that Fisher had successfully become this seventeen-year-old's lackey. Fisher felt somewhat bitter, but he was utterly convinced by Kobe's skills and accepted his identity as Kobe's underling.

But what he never expected was that after their one-on-one game, that demon used his status as the boss to drag me into training from morning until night. I haven't even had the chance to experience the splendor of Los Angeles yet. And if I showed the slightest resistance, I got a round of scolding and beating. Can't somebody come do something? Old Fish is suffering inside.

"Old Fish! What are you thinking about? You're actually spacing out?" Kobe felt a headache coming on as he watched Fisher immersed in his own world. Young Fisher was very much worth developing. He was a future championship starting point guard, with plenty of room to grow. But constantly spacing out would not do. He had to be strict with him! So Kobe picked up the basketball and hurled it at Fisher's head.

Bang! The basketball collided with Fisher's head with a loud impact.

Watching Fisher convulse on the floor, Kobe could not help but sigh inwardly. Once the bump on his head goes down, he'll surely understand my good intentions.