After the dinner in Rome, Claudio Totti, armed with a promise of a 200 million euro turnkey contract, immediately began lobbying Rome's political and business circles to pave the way for the "5+5 rule."
Everything seemed to be progressing smoothly until Maurizio Gherardini, sweating profusely, knocked on Lin Qi's door at his estate in Spain Square, carrying several faxes.
"Lin, we're in big trouble with the buyout of South America players." Gherardini, not even bothering to drink his coffee, slammed several faxes on the table, his face ashen.
"Carlos Delfino's release clause is easy to negotiate; he's just arrived in Europe, Reggio Calabria's asking price isn't high. But Luis Scola's contract is troublesome. Spain club Baskonia claims they have exclusive rights to Scola."
Lin Qi leaned back on the sofa, unsurprised. "How much buyout fee does Josean Querejeta ( Baskonia's owner) want?"
"Three million dollars!" Gherardini spat out the figure through gritted teeth. "This is outright extortion! And that old fox, Querejeta, has set up extremely complicated priority matching rights and penalty traps in the contract. Our legal team reviewed the contract and said that if we go through the conventional international labor law process, the lawsuit will drag on for at least a year and a half!"
A year and a half? By then, it'll be too late.
"Lin, how about... we just pay the three million? Even though we'd suffer a loss in silence, it'll get the person here immediately, minimizing the impact on our future plans. Anyway, this amount of money is nothing to us..."
"I can definitely come up with three million dollars."
Lin Qi picked up the iced water from the coffee table, took a sip, and a cool mist rose from the glass in his palm. He raised his eyelids, his gaze calmly landing on Gherardini: "But Maurizio, what do you think Josean Querejeta will think after he gets this money?"
Gherardini paused slightly. "He... thinks he made a good deal?"
"He'll think he's got our weakness in his grasp." Lin Qi's voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable chill. "Today, to save trouble, we obediently hand over three million. Tomorrow, the entire Europe sports world will know... that the owners behind these Italy teams are rich and foolish. From now on, every talented player we find in South America or Eastern Europe will be treated like lambs to the slaughter by these bloodsuckers, who will find ways to blackmail us using loopholes in the contracts."
Lin Qi gently placed the water glass on the table, making a dull thud.
"What we're building is a complete, long-term, operational talent supply chain, not a bunch of suckers handing over money to these Lao Liumang Europe scoundrels. If we set this precedent, everyone will dare to use unfair contracts to take advantage of us, and all the rules will be broken."
Lin Qi glanced at the documents on the table, pondered for a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed a number.
The phone rang a few times before being answered. A deep voice with a heavy Balkans accent spoke, "Boss? That's strange, you actually have time to call me. The training camp in Milan hasn't even opened yet."
" Dino, I'm in trouble and need your help." Lin Qi said casually.
On the other end of the phone was former Celtics player and Croatia legend Dino Radja. This Balkans power forward was signed by Lin Qi for a hefty sum last summer and now plays for another Europe powerhouse under Lin Qi's name— Olympia Milan. As a veteran who has spent years playing in various Europe leagues and also spent time in the NBA, Radja is very familiar with the unspoken rules of Europe basketball.
Lin Qi briefly explained Scola's contract impasse.
After listening, Radja laughed loudly on the other end of the phone, " Josean Querejeta? That old Spain fox who turns contracts into servitude? Lin, if you're hoping your business lawyers in their high-end office buildings in Milan or Rome, wearing custom-tailored suits, will easily get that Argentina kid out of there."
"That's why I came to ask you, are there any experts in Europe who specialize in handling these kinds of messes?"
"There really is one." Radja stopped laughing and became serious. "Go to Belgrade in Yugoslavia and find someone named Miško Ražnatović. He's still playing professionally, but he also runs his own law firm. He understands football and is an expert on the shady loopholes in contracts across Europe leagues. Players all over the Balkan Peninsula go to him when they encounter unpaid wages or contract disputes. Go to him, you can't go wrong."
Lin Qi hung up the phone, stood up, and picked up his suit jacket.
"Lin, where are you going?" Gherardini was taken aback.
"Book two plane tickets to Maurizio. The destination is Yugoslavia, Belgrade." Lin Qi slowly put on his suit. " Dino recommended an insider who understands both basketball and contract loopholes."
Late July 2000, the height of summer in the Balkan Peninsula.
In Belgrade at this moment, one can still seem to smell the lingering scent of war from a year ago. The city is struggling to breathe amidst sanctions and turmoil, but the fervent sporting spirit in its bones has never dried up.
The air in the run-down corner café was thick with the smell of cheap tobacco and strong black coffee.
"Listen, Radovan! You can't deduct that thousand-dollar security deposit from his contract just because he sprained his ankle last month! That's a violation of labor law, believe me, I'll be in your office tomorrow with a court summons!"
34-year-old Miško Ražnatović sat on a greasy plastic chair, holding a Nokia phone, and was cursing into the phone in Serbia.
He had just finished a semi-professional match, his tall frame still clad in a sweat-soaked jersey. His heavy breathing, mixed with legal jargon, sounded both comical and full of fighting spirit in the noisy café.
"Mr. Ražnatović, it seems your client is in some trouble."
A calm voice interrupted his roar.
Miško hung up the phone and looked up warily. Standing before him was a young Asian man in a well-tailored suit, followed by a portly middle-aged Italy man. This arrangement seemed out of place on the post-war Balkans streets.
"Who are you?" Miško frowned and asked in slightly accented English.
" Dino Radja recommended you to me. He said you're the most knowledgeable basketball lawyer in the entire Balkan Peninsula." Lin Qi pulled out a chair and sat down, casually pushing a thick document in front of Miško, which bore the crest of the Spain Baskonia club.
"I've run into some trouble." Lin Qi placed his hands on the table, calmly looking at the lawyer in front of him who was just starting his career. " Baskonia from Spain wants to lock in a player I have named Luis Scola with a contract containing unfair terms. At the same time, I have several Argentina players who need to get the necessary legal notarization for their European Union passports done as quickly as possible."
Miško glanced at the contract and sneered, " Baskonia? Josean is a veteran; his contracts never leave any loopholes. This lawsuit won't be easy."
"That's why I flew all the way from Rome to see you." Lin Qi leaned forward slightly. "I need you to help me find the legal loopholes in this contract and get the guy to Italy before the start of next season."
"My litigation budget is... ten times that of your current wage arrears case."
Miško was instantly drawn to the word "ten times." His keen intuition as a lawyer told him that this was a big deal and a golden opportunity.
He grabbed a tissue to wipe the sweat from his brow and pulled the contract over. "Give me three days."