New York, Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, Olympic Tower.
NBA headquarters, Commissioner's office.
David Stern stared at the report on his desk about the Boston Celtics' 43-point blowout victory over the Orlando Magic, his brow furrowed deeply. Next to the report was an actuarial report predicting a $17 million loss for the Celtics next season.
" David, Boston broke all previous opening game ratings last night. They're the focus of the entire nation now." The league's vice president, Russ Granik, Stern's most trusted deputy, walked in.
Stern took off his gold-rimmed glasses and rubbed his temples.
"The ratings are good, but I'm not happy at all, Russ," Stern said seriously. " Lin Qi completely ignored the luxury tax ceiling that will take effect next season in order to maintain that championship roster. They'll face huge losses starting next year. If they re-sign other players after that..."
Granik paused for a moment. "You mean... the Celtics might go bankrupt?"
"It's worse than that." A flicker of anxiety crossed Stern's eyes. " Lin Qi is leading the way in disrupting the league's ecosystem. If all the league's owners see that Boston can pile on star players regardless of cost, even at the cost of huge losses, just to win a championship, what will happen next? Dolan in New York, Chris Paul Allen in Portland —they'll throw money around even more recklessly!"
Stern slammed his fist on the table. "This will trigger an extremely vicious arms race! Big-market teams will be fighting tooth and nail for the championship, resulting in massive losses, while small-market teams, even if they empty their coffers, still can't compete. In the end, they'll either tank or grit their teeth and participate in the arms race, only to suffer huge losses! This is absolutely not the NBA I want!"
So what are your plans?
"I'm sending people to Boston to investigate their operations," Stern scoffed. "The official reason... we'll say it's the league's 'special care' for the defending champions. We'll send an auditor to 'assist' Boston in identifying operational risks. Once they discover any cash flow problems, the league will immediately intervene and forcibly stop this suicidal money-burning behavior."
Two days later. Boston, New Garden.
Lin Qi's chief assistant, Margaret, was walking expressionlessly behind a middle-aged white man in a suit and tie with his hair neatly slicked back. She was wearing high heels.
This middle-aged man is Stuart Collins, and he is the "Chief Financial and Operational Health Advisor" sent by the NBA headquarters.
"Mr. Stuart, as I just showed you in the financial briefing, our team's cash flow is currently very healthy," Margaret explained, maintaining a professional, albeit fake, smile.
"Ms. Margaret, don't be nervous, I'm not here to cause trouble." Stuart adjusted his rimless glasses, a standard politician's insincere smile on his face. "President David Stern is very concerned about Boston. A projected loss of $17 million is no small amount, and the league must ensure that teams don't risk operational paralysis due to excessive salary competition."
He spoke with great decorum, but from the moment he entered, Stuart's eyes darted around like a hunting dog. He scrutinized the team's daily expenses with extreme rigor, even scrutinizing the meal bills for the chartered flights for away games.
What annoyed Margaret even more was that this Stuart had started "randomly intercepting" players in the training hallway.
Just then, Stephen Jackson, who had just finished shooting practice, was wiping his sweat with a towel when he bumped into Stuart.
" Stephen, it's a pleasure to meet you." Stuart put on a friendly smile. "How are things going in Boston? The team will be under a lot of financial pressure next year. Have you noticed any budget cuts in your daily training and support?"
Jackson paused for a moment, and the memory of the top-notch Kobe beef dinner he had the night before last in the harbor district—costing over a thousand dollars per person and with champagne poured like tap water—instantly flashed through his mind.
"Budget cuts? Tight budget?" Jackson looked at the league official in front of him with a strange expression.
"Yes, if the team owes you bonuses or skimps on logistical support, you can report it directly to the league," Stuart lowered his voice. "The league will protect your rights."
Jackson sneered inwardly.
"Old man, aren't you being a bit too nosy?" Jackson looked at Stuart like he was an idiot and said gruffly, "My boss just treated us to the most expensive tomahawk steak in all of Boston. The caviar alone cost tens of thousands of dollars. If this is what you call a tight budget, then I suggest the league headquarters cafeteria should also get a 'tight budget'."
After saying that, Jackson pushed open the locker room door and left without looking back, leaving Stuart standing there, his face turning pale and then red.
Just as Stuart was about to move on to another target for questioning, Margaret's walkie-talkie rang.
" Margaret, please invite that commissioner from New York to my office for a cup of coffee."
Lin Qi's calm, even somewhat languid voice came through the walkie-talkie.
Five minutes later, Stuart was led into the president's office.
Lin Qi sat on a leather sofa by the window, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hand, gazing at the bustling streetscape of Boston.
"Mr. Stuart, please have a seat." Lin Qi gestured to the sofa opposite him, his tone unusually gentle. "I've heard you've been working very hard at my arena these past few days, taking care of the team's meal expenses and the players' bonuses. President David Stern is truly fortunate to have a subordinate like you."
"Mr. Lin Qi, we're just fulfilling our league's responsibilities." Stuart sat down, somewhat unsure of Lin Qi's stance, and could only resort to official rhetoric, "Mr. Stern is very concerned about Boston's losses next year. As a responsible league, we cannot allow any team to fall into a vicious cycle of financial strife in the pursuit of the championship..."
"Malignant financial infighting?"
Lin Qi chuckled softly, took a sip of his coffee, and turned to look at Stuart.
"If I remember correctly, Mr. Chris Paul Allen of the Portland Trail Blazers, the team's total expenditure next season, including salary and luxury tax, will approach $120 million. Their net loss next year may exceed $50 million." Lin Qi put down his coffee cup and interlaced his fingers on his knees. "And LeBron James Dolan of the New York Knicks, their expenses next season will also be an astronomical figure."
"Since President Stern is so worried about severe losses," Lin Qi tilted his head slightly, a faint sneer on his lips, "Why not send you to Portland or New York?"
Stuart, somewhat embarrassed by the question, cleared his throat and retorted, "It's different, Mr. Lin Qi. Mr. Chris Paul Allen has the substantial assets of Microsoft as his backing, while the Knicks are backed by New York, the largest market in the United States. The league is worried that Boston's market size cannot support..."
"You're absolutely right, Stuart." Lin Qi, far from being angry, smiled and nodded, interrupting him with full agreement. "Asset strength and market size are indeed key. I'm glad the league is thinking with rigorous business logic."
He glanced at Margaret standing beside him, who immediately understood and stepped forward, gently placing a document on the coffee table in front of Stuart.
This is a legal document bearing the watermark of a top Boston law firm.
"Feel free to browse, Mr. Stuart." Lin Qi leaned back on the sofa, picking up his coffee. "Since the Boston basketball market alone isn't enough to cover the luxury tax, I'll just expand the market."
Stuart frowned as he opened the document. When he saw the bold, black text at the top of the document, his pupils contracted slightly.
This is a letter of intent to acquire the " New Garden " and its surrounding commercial assets in its entirety. Moreover, the attached bank documents show that Lin Qi Capital has completed the preparation of a large preliminary funding pool and has officially entered the bidding and negotiation stage.
Lin Qi smiled and spread his hands, speaking as casually as if he were discussing the evening's weather.
"For a basketball team, a loss of over ten million dollars would indeed be a major problem that could lead to bankruptcy. But for a top-tier entertainment and commercial complex located in downtown Boston, it's just a very minor routine operating cost."
Stuart stared at the letter of intent for acquisition on the coffee table and fell completely silent.
"So," Lin Qi stood up, straightened the hem of his suit jacket, and extended his right hand to Stuart with impeccable poise, ending the conversation, "Please go back and tell President Stern to rest assured. The Boston Celtics will not only not go bankrupt, but will also not become a burden on the league's ecosystem."
"Please save the energy you have for worrying about me for other teams."