A few days after his candid conversation with Chauncey Billups Billups on the private jet, Lin Qi's office received a strange phone call.
The team's administration was the first to receive the call.
The operator listened for less than half a minute, then realized the matter was beyond her authority and immediately transferred it to the public relations manager. The public relations manager verified the information with the other party three times, her expression gradually becoming extremely strange, before finally knocking on Lin Qi's office door.
"Mr. Lin Qi, there's something... well, something that might require your personal attention." The public relations manager placed a note on the table with a subtle expression.
Lin Qi looked up, reviewing a scouting report on next week's opponent, "What happened?"
"Someone is impersonating one of our players."
Lin Qi paused slightly in his hand, pen in hand. Impersonating a professional athlete was rare, but it did happen. Some irrational fans or scammers liked to wear training jerseys with team logos to upscale venues, trying to scam drinks, free meals, or special treatment. Or, some people were simply playing pranks...
Why is it necessary for him to handle this matter?
However, these kinds of matters are usually handled by the public relations department and the security team themselves, and are rarely reported directly to the general manager.
"What did he do?" Lin Qi's tone turned serious. "Fraud? Or did he purchase goods on credit in the team's name?"
"Neither." The PR manager's lips twitched slightly. "He applied for a job at a large electronics store."
Lin Qi frowned. "Apply for a job?"
"Yes, part-time warehouse clerk. Six to ten o'clock every evening, plus weekend shifts." The public relations manager took a deep breath. "The most outrageous thing is that when the mall's HR manager reviewed his job application, he found that in the 'Current Occupation' section, he blatantly wrote... Boston Celtics professional player."
A brief silence fell over the office.
Lin Qi instinctively felt this was not just a prank, but a serious blow to the team's brand image, especially when the PR manager mentioned that name.
"The mall manager asked him to show proof of employment, and the young man simply gave them the publicly listed phone number for our team's office. And the name he wrote down was... Ron Artest."
Lin Qi's movements came to a complete stop.
Has someone stolen Ron Artest's name to commit fraud?
"Have you contacted the training center yet?" Lin Qi asked in a deep voice.
"We've contacted him. Ron did extra practice alone for a full forty minutes this morning after the team practice, and then he left the training facility. Nobody knows where he went." The PR manager handed him the microphone. "The mall manager is still waiting on the other end of the phone. They insist that the team confirm in person whether this young man claiming to be a Celtics player is real or not."
Lin Qi took the phone, pressed the speakerphone button, and said in a cold tone, "This is Lin Qi, President of Basketball Operations for the Boston Celtics."
A middle-aged manager's voice, both relieved and exasperated, immediately came from the other end of the phone. "Thank God, your team finally has someone in charge! Mr. Lin Qi, we have a young man here who claims to be a player on your team. He not only applied for a night shift stock clerk position, but he also plans to take leave during the away game! Shouldn't you handle this? Otherwise, I'll call the police."
Lin Qi rubbed his throbbing temples, trying to remain calm. "Manager, please let that young man answer the phone."
After a brief period of noise and background music from the mall, a familiar, deep, and assertive voice came through the receiver.
"Hello?"
Holding the receiver, Lin Qi was momentarily at a loss for which question to ask first, " Ron, are you standing in the HR office of an electronics store right now?"
"Yes," Artest answered without the slightest hesitation.
Did you fill out a part-time stock clerk application form?
"Right."
Lin Qi took a deep breath, suppressing the anger rising in his chest. " Ron, you have a guaranteed NBA contract, you're a first-round pick for the Boston Celtics! Why would you apply for a warehouse manager position at an electronics store?"
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by Artest's extremely serious voice.
Because I want to buy a stereo system.
Lin Qi: "... What?"
"A home theater-grade surround sound system, with dual subwoofers." Artest's tone was even a little aggrieved. "I went to see it yesterday, and the price was too high. But while chatting, the salesperson told me that as long as you're a full-time employee who passes the assessment, you can enjoy a 50% discount on any item purchased in the store. That's enough to save several hundred dollars."
The public relations manager in the office finally couldn't hold back any longer, covering his mouth tightly with his hand, his shoulders trembling violently.
A professional basketball player with a multi-million dollar contract, trying to save a few hundred dollars on a stereo system by working part-time as a warehouse worker at a large retail store. This line of thinking left Lin Qi momentarily unsure whether Artest was playing a prank on him or some kind of performance art.
Half an hour later, two team staff members drove directly to the mall and practically "escorted" the rookie forward back to the New Garden.
When Artest walked into the room carrying a thick mall employee handbook, a hint of confusion still lingered on his face.
Lin Qi didn't immediately get angry. Instead, he waved for the staff to leave and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."
Artest sat down obediently, clutching the employee handbook tightly to his chest.
Lin Qi looked at him, his gaze gradually shifting from initial absurdity to scrutiny. " Ron, I need you to answer a few questions honestly. Is your rookie salary insufficient?"
"Enough."
Are you experiencing financial difficulties at home? Is a relative sick? Or has your agent run off with your money?
"No, none of that. My money is all in the bank, and my agent shows me the statements every week." Artest shook his head.
"Then why?" Lin Qi leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the strong yet stubborn young man before him. "As a professional player for an NBA team, why are you so fixated on a discount of just a few hundred dollars? Why didn't you communicate with the team beforehand?"
Artest lowered his head, his rough fingers unconsciously picking at the cover of the manual. The confident expression from before gradually faded from his face, replaced by a tension that a young man was trying hard to hide, yet couldn't hide.
"Mr. Lin Qi..." Artest's voice lowered, "It's pretty boring after practice. I have nothing to do, and going out might cause some unnecessary trouble. Besides... NBA money isn't something you can have forever."
Lin Qi was slightly taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"I'm just a rookie. The league went into lockout last year, and teams might buy out or cut underperforming young players at any time." Artest looked up, his eyes revealing a vulnerability and confusion that seemed completely out of character for his rugged appearance. "I only played eight minutes in my last game. The coach complained that my defense was too aggressive, and the media called me a brute who only knows how to use brute force..."
As he said this, he pursed his lips, and his voice became hoarse.
"What if... what if I get cut by the Celtics tomorrow? An NBA job can disappear in an instant, but a warehouse job is always there. As long as I'm hardworking, I can earn money moving boxes, and it also helps me get exercise, which is good for my performance on the court."
These words clearly reached his ears, instantly dispelling the sense of absurdity in Lin Qi's heart, and replacing it with a profound and moving feeling.
At this moment, Lin Qi finally saw through Artest's seemingly ridiculous behavior, stripping away the incomprehensible facade to reveal his truest inner self... a survival anxiety deeply ingrained in his bones.
This tough-looking young man, who bites his opponents like a mad dog on the court, actually has no sense of security about his career. He has clearly put on the Celtics jersey and stood on the highest stage that basketball players all over the world dream of, but his soul is still trapped in the shadow of his precarious childhood in Queensbridge, Queens New York.
That was the source of all his fear and resilience. In that cramped apartment, his mother raised seven children alone, often with more than ten people crammed onto a few hard mattresses and cots. Quarrels and violence were the daily dust in the air. His father had to bow to loan sharks to make ends meet, and food often ran out by the end of the month. He would go to school in faded, even worn-out, old clothes and shoes, enduring the harsh ridicule and scorn of his peers.
This underlying logic of insecurity instantly reminded Lin Qi of Chauncey Billups Billups, who had confided his anxieties to him on the private jet a few days earlier.
Chauncey Billups was worried about being used as a bargaining chip outside the team's long-term plans and was afraid of being labeled a "bust" third overall pick. Artest, on the other hand, went to the other extreme. He even subconsciously assumed that he would be unemployed tomorrow and couldn't wait to find himself a backup job as a warehouse manager.
Two exceptionally talented young people, with completely different personalities, surprisingly share a common concern: insecurity.
Lin Qi snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the beastly forward in front of him, who seemed ready to pack his bags and leave at any moment. His tone became more serious than ever before.
" Ron, listen up."
Artest instinctively straightened his back.
" The Boston Celtics drafted you not because we were doing charity work, nor because we needed a temporary worker ready to go to a retail store," Lin Qi said, emphasizing each word. "What we valued in you was your ability to lock down all the league's top scorers in the future. Your defensive talent is invaluable; you've never been a dispensable passerby in our long-term team-building plan."
Lin Qi pointed to the confiscated mall employee handbook on the table.
"Don't worry. As long as you stay in Boston, as long as you give it your all on the training court, no one will cut you for no reason. As for that sound system..."
Lin Qi rubbed his temples and sighed helplessly, "The team's equipment and business department will contact the suppliers and get you a top-of-the-line set directly in the club's name. Don't even think about employee discounts."
Hearing this, Artest wasn't relieved at all; instead, he became a little anxious, leaning forward slightly. "Lin, you have no idea about employee discounts. Do you know that employee discounts can be 50% off? That's a whole 50%!"
Lin Qi rolled his eyes, both amused and exasperated. "Alright, that's enough. Besides the sound system and employee discounts, is there anything else you want to tell me?"
Seeing the other person's tone soften, Artest's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and a different kind of trouble appeared in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a low voice.
"Lin, you told me that if I could shut out Chris Paul in practice, I would get a starting position. But I can see that the team is investing far more resources in him than in me. The coaching staff even arranged for Dominique Wilkins to help him refine his offensive skills... The gap between us seems to be widening. I really thought that as long as I worked hard enough, I could overcome everything, but now it seems like I'm just going in circles."
Lin Qi patted him on the shoulder, his tone softening considerably. "You can also ask Dominique Wilkins for offensive advice. However, Dominique Wilkins is helping the team as a special advisor; he has his own schedule and can't keep an eye on you all the time."
"But Chris Paul..."
" Ron," Lin Qi interrupted him, meeting his eyes filled with impatience and resentment, "It's not that we don't want to help you. Didn't the team develop a long-term improvement plan specifically for you? It included targeted shooting drills, defensive exercises to improve lateral quickness, and a mental plan to manage your on-court emotions. Everyone has seen the aggression you've shown on defense, but honing your skills and composure takes time. Rome wasn't built in a day."
The air was silent for a few seconds.
Artest pursed his lips, the frustration in his eyes not completely gone, but the volatile anger that was ready to explode at any moment was forcibly suppressed. He exhaled heavily and gritted his teeth as he spat out a sentence.
"I know... I just... wanted to win too much."