"These are your operating statements for the past three years."
During the business operations meeting, Lin Qi threw a thick stack of documents onto the center of the table. The brown paper bag hit the mahogany table with a dull thud, causing the executives on both sides of the long table to straighten up.
The dozen or so people sitting below were mostly veterans from the Gaston era. They were used to the conservative model of "the team just plays and the arena is responsible for its own profits and losses," and when they were suddenly gathered together, they still had a habitual air of nonchalance on their faces.
"To be honest, it's giving me a headache." Lin Qi leaned forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable air of authority. "You're holding onto the most valuable sports brand in America, yet you've run it like a corner store on the verge of bankruptcy."
Operations Director Evans, somewhat embarrassed, loosened his tie and argued, "Mr. Lin Qi, in the past, the stadium's ownership didn't belong to us, so we had no say in many commercial developments..."
"Now that we've gotten the stadium ownership back," Lin Qi interrupted him directly, "So, all that complacency from before is null and void from today onwards."
He stood up, walked to the whiteboard, picked up Mark, and wrote the first word: [Luxury Boxes and Membership System].
" The New Garden has sixty-two luxury suites. Their revenue used to be irrelevant to us, but now we're taking it all back." Lin Qi turned, his eyes sharp. "I want you to repackage these suites and sell them to all of Boston's financial institutions, top law firms, and tech upstarts."
Evans hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Lin Qi, the rental fees for those private rooms are already quite high. If we raise the prices again, our traditional partners might..."
"Who said I'm just selling a seat at the game?"
Lin Qi tapped the table with his fingers. "What I'm selling is status. It's an admission ticket that says, 'As long as you can sit here, it means you're a member of Boston's inner circle.' It includes exclusive dining, private underground passages, meet-and-greets with legends, and priority access to playoff tickets—all bundled together."
"Double the price," Lin Qi said calmly. "The more expensive it is, the more face they feel."
A low murmur rippled through the conference room.
In 1999, the business thinking of most NBA teams was still limited to selling tickets and getting shirt sponsorships. Lin Qi's approach of commodifying the viewing experience and deeply binding the team's IP with the city's high-end social circles became the standard template for mature clubs twenty years later.
Without giving the executives time to question him, Lin Qi switched to a red pen and drew a streetwear logo with a rebellious and anti-establishment style on the whiteboard.
"You might not have heard of this brand," Lin Qi said, tossing down his pen, "But soon, young people in Boston will be lining up in front of its stores."
This streetwear brand was a piece that Lin Qi had secretly planted several years ago. Over the years, he had stars like Garnett and Gary Payton frequently promote the brand when they entered and exited the arena and gave interviews, which has accumulated a huge following in the underground fashion scene.
Now, Lin Qi is going to bring it all to the forefront.
"Starting next week, this brand will officially become an official partner of the Celtics. I'm going to open a flagship store for it in the most prominent location on the first floor of the New Garden Arena."
"We're going to release co-branded jerseys, retro hoodies, and limited-edition sneakers. I want every young person who comes to the game to leave the stadium wearing clothes with the shamrock logo and this trendy brand's co-branded logo."
As soon as she finished speaking, a senior female manager in the operations department frowned, looking restless, and immediately raised her hand to interrupt.
"Mr. Lin Qi, this is absolutely unacceptable! These street designs are full of disorder and rebellion, even carrying a hint of underground gang aggression. We, the Celtics, are a top-tier powerhouse with sixteen championships, the purest bloodline, and the most traditional style! To be associated with these low-class street signs is simply to tarnish our traditions and character!"
"Yeah, what will middle-class families think of this style? What will our traditional sponsors think?" The executives below echoed in hushed tones, their faces not looking too good.
Lin Qi looked at the indignant executives but did not get angry. Instead, he walked to the whiteboard and used the tip of his pen to draw several sharp lines next to the logo, instantly transforming the originally pure street elements into a tough visual with a strong sense of industrial and iron-blooded power.
"This isn't thuggery; this is Boston's tenacious spirit of sticking to their opponents and fighting to the bitter end." Lin Qi turned around, his sharp gaze sweeping across the entire court. "We don't champion violence, but if the ball falls to the ground, we'll tear it apart, we'll dive and dive to save it. That's called tough-guy culture. Does it fit into your so-called elite team image now?"
The executives were stunned for a moment, exchanging bewildered glances. Although he still had an indelible street style, Lin Qi's new definition completely removed those previous lowbrow labels, leaving no room for criticism.
Now that the issue of tone has been resolved, let's listen to the market.
Lin Qi tapped the whiteboard lightly. "Do you think those old fogies in the cigar boxes are the ones who consistently contribute to the ratings, sell season tickets, and sell out merchandise every season?"
"It's young people," Lin Qi said clearly. "They're the young people who can't afford VIP tickets, but are willing to stand in line all night outside the store for a collaboration hoodie."
"We're not just selling a basketball team that plays basketball; we're selling a culture and a sense of identity that belong to this era." Lin Qi straightened up. "Binding the Celtics ' heritage with the city's most vibrant street culture isn't lowering ourselves. It's bringing a monument that was about to decay and end up in a museum back to life."
The results of the changes were immediate.
As the shortened season progressed, the Celtics ignited the city's passion with a winning streak on the court. Off the court, the cash cow at the FleetCenter was also running at full capacity.
Sixty-two luxury suites, marketed as " Boston's elite circle," were snapped up by hedge funds and established law firms in the second week after the new standards were introduced. Even with prices doubling, the waiting list still extends into the next season.
The official streetwear flagship store on the first floor of the stadium has become a true trendsetting mecca for the New England region.
This strikingly contrasting collaborative style, spearheaded by the official team and promoted by figures like Garnett, quickly created a sensation. Young people wore dark green overalls emblazoned with the special collaborative logo, proudly declaring that it represented the coolest and toughest local attitude.
On home game days, the area outside the store's security tape is always packed with people. The black and green collaboration jerseys sell out within half an hour of being put on the shelves. On Boston's secondhand trading websites, a limited edition item has been resold for two or three times its original price.
Sponsors, like Shark smelling blood, waved checks and stormed the management office. Television broadcasters also bowed their heads, offering nationwide broadcast contracts far exceeding previous ones and begging for renewal.
Cash poured into the Boston Celtics ' accounts like a tidal wave.
The Boston Celtics giant, once possessing the league's greatest potential but malnourished by its former owner's stinginess and conservatism, has finally smashed the chains that locked the gates to the gold mine.
After another resounding home victory.
The more than 20,000 enthusiastic fans had long since dispersed, and only a few lights remained on in the entire stadium, casting long, interlaced shadows on the empty floor.
Lin Qi stood alone on the edge of the highest stand in the stadium, his hands gripping the cold iron railing, looking down at the empty stadium below.
The team's chief financial officer (CFO) stood excitedly behind Lin Qi, holding several freshly printed reports in his hand.
"Mr. Lin Qi," the CFO's voice trembled slightly with excitement, "The latest financial audit estimates are in. This month alone, the extra net profit we've earned from pure business operations has... has completely surpassed the team's total revenue for an entire quarter under Gaston's management."
Seeing that Lin Qi remained silent, the CFO took a deep breath and continued, "And this is just the regular season. Once we make the playoffs, with ticket prices increasing and broadcast revenue sharing reaching its maximum, if we really make it to the end, this number will skyrocket."
Lin Qi looked calmly at the cold-gleaming floor beneath his feet.
To others, he was making money. But only he knew that business always serves the competition.
In the realistic and brutal NBA league, building a long-lasting Celtics dynasty requires more than just the self-sacrifice of a few talented players on the court.
Times change, people grow old, and players will face the temptation of being poached by other teams with high salaries in a few years.
What truly forms the foundation for retaining every veteran player is a healthy cash flow. With a continuous stream of funds, a team can confidently face the luxury tax, have the resources to snatch players from the competition at the trade deadline, and invest heavily in medical teams and sports science to extend players' careers.
Victories on the field bring commercial wealth, which in turn becomes the most fertile nourishment, nurturing an even more solid dominance on the field.
Win games, make money, become stronger, and then win even more with an even stronger roster.
Lin Qi was going to assemble himself was a logically closed-loop, ever-renewing positive-cycle machine.
"That idiot Chris Paul Gaston."
Lin Qi looked at the floor beneath his feet, a floor that bore witness to countless glories, and chuckled softly, "Guarding a gold mine like Boston, all you knew back then was to crawl on the ground, picking at a few coins from between the rubble."
He turned around and strode out of the players' tunnel.