June 13, morning, the Peninsula Hotel, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles.
Sunlight streamed through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the luxurious presidential suite in its entirety.
On the coffee table, several copies of the day's morning newspaper, still smelling of ink, were scattered about.
"A miracle at Staples! The Lakers pull off a stunning comeback to tie the game!"
"2-2! The epic series suspense is back!"
Lin Qi held a glass of iced Americano with double espresso, his gaze calmly sweeping over the bold headlines. Last night's clumsy, almost ugly game had been perfectly packaged by the Los Angeles media as a thrilling comeback.
" Margaret," Lin Qi said without turning his head, setting down his coffee cup, which was still dripping with condensation, "Connect me to the NBA headquarters in New York. I need to speak directly with David Stern."
"Yes, boss." Margaret skillfully picked up the landline and dialed the private line to the Alliance President's office, a line known to very few. After a moment, she covered the receiver and handed it over. "Connected."
Lin Qi took the phone and leaned back against the leather sofa.
"Good morning, Lin Qi. How's the Los Angeles sunshine?" David Stern's signature, always somewhat refined and bureaucratic, steady voice came from the other end of the line.
"A bit too bright compared to Boston," Lin Qi replied casually.
"You'll get used to it. But the people at NBC are absolutely in love with Los Angeles right now." Stern's tone held an undisguised pride. "They just put last night's ratings on my desk. The peak was over 25 million. Do you know what that means?"
Stern paused, seemingly enjoying the sense of commercial accomplishment from being in control. "This means that for tomorrow night's fifth show, NBC's rate for every thirty seconds of advertising has been driven up to a staggering $650,000 by those advertisers."
Lin Qi was taken aback when he heard the number.
After Jordan's retirement in 1998, the NBA experienced its darkest period in terms of viewership, with regular season ratings plummeting by nearly 40% in 1999.
At the time, many sponsors were hesitant or even withdrew their funding.
Around 2013 (during the Heat Big Three era with LeBron James facing off against the Spurs ), the price for a 30-second ad during ABC's NBA NBA Finals broadcasts was still hovering around $500,000.
A 30-second ad in the 2001 Super Bowl cost $2.1 million. But the Super Bowl is a single-game series, while the NBA NBA Finals can go up to seven games! Each game has dozens of ad slots. If the series went to seven games, NBC could rake in hundreds of millions of dollars in advertising revenue alone—an incredibly terrifying money-making ability.
Stern's voice continued through the receiver, even carrying a rare hint of excitement. " Lin Qi, ever since Michael Jordan retired in 1998, the entire American media has been predicting our downfall. They said the NBA had lost its box office guarantee and the ratings would completely collapse. But look now, Los Angeles versus Boston, the series is tied 2-2... $650,000 in advertising deals—that's the best result the league has achieved in the Jordan era!"
" Lin Qi, we are bringing the NBA back to its peak."
" David," Lin Qi interrupted Stern's self-absorbed reverie, his tone devoid of any politeness, "But the way your referees are behaving to make this money is simply too unseemly."
The voice on the other end of the phone abruptly stopped. The newly brewing feeling of "returning to the peak" was instantly interrupted by Lin Qi's words.
"45 to 16." Lin Qi coldly announced the free throw count from last night, enunciating each word with extreme clarity. "Don't you think it's too obvious? The ticket-buying fans aren't stupid."
After a brief silence, Stern's steady voice rang out again, carrying a hint of official evasiveness. " Lin Qi, I completely understand your emotions after losing the game. The intensity of the NBA Finals is extremely high, and under such pressure, it's inevitable that the referees will make a few controversial calls..."
" David, forget your reporter act. We're both smart people, let's be frank." Lin Qi bluntly exposed his pretense. "I know how the league works. For the sake of the league's overall interests, you'll use some tacit methods to maximize the suspense of the games. That's understandable, after all, we're all in this together."
Lin Qi stood up, walked slowly to the French windows, and his tone suddenly became unusually calm, revealing an outsider's rationality. "But David, your behavior last night was appalling. You overstepped your bounds and crossed a dangerous red line."
A very faint electrical hum could be heard coming from the receiver.
"What do you mean? Are you threatening me, Lin Qi?" Stern's voice finally turned cold, his refined mask torn away, revealing the authority of a superior.
"No, I'm reminding you, David," Lin Qi's voice was extremely calm, devoid of any emotion, "A 45-to-16 free throw difference is statistically absurdly distorted. Do you really think all those keen-nosed sports reporters and columnists across America are blind? Do you really think those 25 million people who watched the live broadcast last night lacked their own judgment?"
Stern's breathing paused almost imperceptibly.
" David, this outrageous free throw statistic is printed in the statistics section of every newspaper across the United States. You've personally handed the media a loaded gun."
Looking out at the bustling streets of Los Angeles, Lin Qi unleashed his true trump card. "If public opinion turns against you, and investigative reporters from the Washington Post or the New York Times take notice and make the connection between 'hairline whistles' and 'ratings monetization' a front-page headline... do you remember how professional boxing declined in the 1990s?"
This metaphor, like a cold, poisonous thorn, pierced Stern's nerves with pinpoint accuracy.
"Back then, the viewership for professional boxing was even more insane than the NBA during Jordan's peak. But what happened later? When the public discovered that the matches were rigged, when biased refereeing became an open secret..." Lin Qi's tone was extremely sharp, every word piercing to the heart, " Nike, Coca-Cola, McDonald's's— all those blue-chip sponsors—ran away overnight. Do you think they needed that little bit of advertising money?"
" David, you were just saying you wanted to bring the league back to its peak. But these big spenders are pouring tens of millions of dollars into your business every year, buying a brand image of 'fair play'! Their risk control departments absolutely hate scandals." Lin Qi tapped his finger lightly on the glass window. "Once the NBA is labeled as 'scripted,' triggering a nationwide public relations crisis, do you believe that the boards of directors of Nike and Coca-Cola will not hesitate to invoke the liability exemption clauses in their contracts and pull all their advertisements?"
A deathly silence lasted for ten seconds. On the other end of the phone, only Stern's slightly heavy breathing could be heard.
"When the television broadcasting contract is renegotiated next year, if the league is embroiled in a crisis of confidence regarding 'match-fixing,' do you think NBC will raise your price, or will they take the opportunity to cut your broadcasting fee in half?" Lin Qi delivered the final blow.
" David, do you think it's a worthwhile deal to gamble with the business reputation of the entire alliance that you've worked so hard to build for short-term, petty gains?"
If David Stern had one absolute taboo subject, it would be the NBA's brand reputation and the interests of its sponsors.
" Lin Qi..." David Stern's voice finally lost its usual businesslike smoothness. As an exceptionally shrewd Jewish businessman, he knew that Lin Qi's warning was by no means alarmist.
"You're an extremely shrewd team owner. The NBA is a unified entity where everyone's success or failure is interconnected, and of course, none of us want to see the worst-case scenario unfold," Stern said slowly, a tacit admission of weakness. "What do you want?"
"You've gotten the suspense you wanted, you've reaped your rewards, it's time to stop." Lin Qi's tone was cold and firm. "Tomorrow night's pivotal Game 5, completely shut down those underhanded tactics. Let the players decide the outcome fair and square. As long as the calls are sound, if the Lakers still win, I'll admit defeat."
"I understand." Stern's tone finally carried a hint of compromise. "Tomorrow night, you'll witness a perfectly fair match representing the highest level of competition in the league. Good luck, Lin Qi."
"Good luck to you too, Mr. President."
Lin Qi hung up the phone decisively.