The summer of 1996 was one of the craziest summers in NBA history.
That year, the league didn't have a maximum salary cap. The salary cap was about $24.36 million, but Jordan alone was able to sign a staggering one-year, $30.14 million contract with the Chicago Bulls.
Money flowed like a flood that had burst its banks.
The free market in 1996 was quite different from what it would become later. In early July, labor and management were still fiercely arguing over the division of the wage cap and the newly emerging "luxury tax." The window for signing contracts wouldn't truly open until the negotiations were finalized. These early July days were a chaotic and ambiguous period... Teams couldn't put contracts on paper yet, but they could leak information, probe, and gather information from each other through agents and the media.
The person Lin Qi wanted, Dikembe Mutombo, wasn't in a hurry at the moment.
To be precise, it's Mutombo's agent, David Falk, who's not in a hurry.
Lin Qi had done his research and knew very well what kind of person Falk was.
The most shrewd and greediest agent in this league is best at "waiting for the best price." He would never let his client rush to sign a contract as soon as the market opens. He would wait... wait for O'Neal's astronomical sum to be finalized, wait for Mourning's price to be set, wait for Juwan Howard's and all the other big names' prices, and gradually raise the "anchor" of the entire market, until the market completely enters an irrational state.
The Hawks had long expressed interest in Mutombo. However, their initial offer was only $40 million over four years. Falk thought it was too little and kept haggling, waiting for the market to drive up the price. The Hawks were also unwilling to empty their coffers right away, so the two sides remained in a lukewarm stalemate.
"So," Lin Qi leaned back in his chair and said to the head of scouting, "What would happen if I jumped out right now and publicly shouted, 'I want Mutombo '?"
The scouting director thought for a moment, " The Hawks will immediately become alert and increase their offer... those wealthy guys in New York might also jump in and compete..."
"Yes. Every time I call out a bid, I'm just adding another sucker to Falk's game, someone to raise the price on," Lin Qi said. "Calling out a bid head-on is the dumbest thing to do."
"Then what do we do?"
Lin Qi smiled.
In early July, a rumor quietly spread through Boston's media circles...
" The Celtics have cleared a significant amount of salary cap space. Lin Qi's target is Steve Smith. If the Hawks hesitate in re-signing him, Boston is willing to offer Smith a long-term contract with a starting salary of over ten million."
The scouting director was completely baffled. " Steve Smith? We have Sam Cassell, Eddie, Finley, and Nash in the backcourt, we don't lack shooting guards at all!"
"Who said I was really going to sign Smith?" Lin Qi said slowly. "All Atlanta needs to know is that the young president of Boston just cleared out a large amount of space, he has money and ambition, and in the past year he has proven with a series of crazy deals... he really dares to make moves."
" Steve Smith is the lifeblood of the Hawks' perimeter game. They made it to the Eastern Conference Semifinals last year, entirely thanks to Smith," Lin Qi said. " The Hawks' plan this summer was to finalize Mutombo's contract first, and then calmly re-sign Smith. But this rumor of mine has disrupted their rhythm."
"Now they're hesitant." Lin Qi's eyes narrowed. "They're unsure if that madman from Boston would really offer a multi-million dollar contract to poach their core player. They have to be distracted and go back to pacifying Smith..."
Sure enough, just a few days after the news broke, Atlanta couldn't sit still. The media pressed the Hawks about their attitude towards Smith, and fans panicked, wondering if Smith would leave. The Hawks were forced to put Mutombo aside and focus on Smith's contract extension.
The Hawks need to deal with Steve Smith first.
Meanwhile, Lin Qi was secretly eliminating redundant contracts one by one, preparing everything—the cap space, roster positions, and contract terms—to secure enough space to sign a top-tier center.
Then, he booked a flight to Denver.
Lin Qi did not make a phone call.
He knew that talking about money over the phone was exactly what Falk wanted... It was Falk's home turf, the table where he would hold out for the best price and force others to raise their bids.
What Lin Qi wants to do is flip the table.
He flew directly to Denver and met with Mutombo himself. Falk was also present.
In a quiet meeting room in Denver, the 2.18-meter-tall Mutombo sat quietly on the sofa, his weathered face expressionless. Falk sat beside him, looking businesslike and ready to haggle.
"Mr. Lin Qi," Falk began with a forced smile, "You've flown all this way, which shows your sincerity. But I must remind you, the market is so hot right now, Dikembe's value is rising every day. If you want to make an offer, you might as well wait, wait for the market..."
"5 years, $50 million. A little over $8 million in the first year. The fifth year is a player option." Lin Qi rattled off the numbers in one breath, cleanly interrupting Falk's prepared opening remarks.
Falk got stuck in the shell.
His plan to "wait for the market and gradually raise prices" was disrupted by Lin Qi's actions.
"This is a truly massive contract." Lin Qi didn't even glance at Falk, his gaze fixed directly on Mutombo. "Five years, $50 million—not the highest figure on the market. If Dikembe wants the highest possible sum, Falk has plenty of ways to stall for a few more weeks, squeezing even more from the Hawks and New York."
"But I'm not here today," Lin Qi said, "To talk to you about money. Money is the least important thing."
Mutombo raised his eyes.
"I'm here to talk to you about something the Hawks can't give you," Lin Qi said.
Lin Qi leaned forward, crossed his arms, elbows resting on his knees, staring intently at the African Mountain: " The Hawks put on a good show in the media, saying they wanted to build you around as the core of their team. All they want is a super role player to fill the gaps in their rim protection, a shot-blocking machine. In their playbook, you're responsible for doing all the dirty work under the basket, then passing the ball to the perimeter scorers to be the hero. Is that what they call a core player?"
"But I want you. I want you to be the core of my entire Celtics team, the core of our entire defensive system. You will be our cornerstone."
Falk chuckled coldly, flicking his cigar ash. "Lin, all general managers across the country say the same nice things when recruiting players. Status is meaningless; what we want is real money and respect in the contract."
This is not just empty talk.
Lin Qi sneered, pulled a thick draft from his briefcase—a draft whose printing format even differed somewhat from the current standard NBA contract—and shoved it directly in front of Falk and Mutombo.
"There's a special incentive clause in the contract I'm giving you. David, you can take a look at what the Celtics are offering. I don't look at blocks, I don't look at rebounds, I don't even look at games played. I don't even look at how many votes you got in the Defensive Player of the Year voting..."
" The Hawks ' coaching staff are a bunch of blind men. They only measure your value by how many blocks and rebounds you get each game. If you dive to help your teammates and end up leaving your man open or losing the defensive rebound, they'll criticize you in the locker room. Because their mindset only allows them to see those insignificant statistics on the stat sheet."
"But I don't look at those superficial statistic incentives here. I don't need you to rack up blocks and rebounds for bonuses; I want the dominance on the court that basic stats can't reflect!"
"It's clearly stated in this special clause... We want to see how much the opponent's field goal percentage drops when you're on the court. We want to see how much the opponent's shooting percentage drops because you're suppressing them. More importantly, we want to see how much our entire Celtics defensive efficiency differs when you're on the court versus when you're not!"
Mutombo's eyes flickered.
" Dikembe," Lin Qi's voice deepened and became enticing, "This is the status Boston can offer you. The national media and those general managers only see your value when you wag your finger and win the blocks title. But those guys sitting in their offices reading briefings don't understand basketball. Your most valuable asset is precisely the defensive impact that basic stats don't show."
Lin Qi leaned back in his chair and tapped the contract on the table.
"I know very well how many times you forced opposing guards to break through when you were on defense, thanks to the wingspan and reach of your two long arms. How many people saw you closing in on them in the three-second zone and had no choice but to pass the ball out again? This kind of invisible finishing blow, which disrupts the opponent's offensive initiation and even forces them to change their tactics, is simply not reflected in the current statistics."
But I know your true worth.
Lin Qi looked at Mutombo.
"To ensure defensive efficiency, you have to box out under the basket and cover for those defensive lapses on the perimeter who get blown past in one step. You even have to risk being dunked on and called for fouls to contest every shot."
"So, it's clearly stated in the contract: I don't look at your total blocks. As long as you're on the court and can keep the opponent's overall field goal percentage in the paint below 42%, and as long as the team's points allowed per 100 possessions differs between when you're on the court and when you're off the court, that's my advanced metric... This $2 million bonus every year will be deposited into your account on time every season."
Falk stared at the advanced clauses in the contract; he understood the trap, like a sugar-coated bullet, hidden within Lin Qi's contract.
The contract offered by the Hawks seemed tempting, but it was filled with hard targets: you had to average a certain number of blocks and rebounds per game, and you had to be selected to the All-Defensive First Team. You had to stay young and constantly compete with those young, muscular guys in their early twenties for stats. If you got old, couldn't jump as high, or your stats declined, sorry, you wouldn't get a single penny of bonuses.
But the subtext of Lin Qi's "advanced data terms" is a completely different concept.
Even if you get older in a few years and your competitive ability declines, and your blocks per game drop from 4 to 1, as long as your defensive deterrence and defensive positioning experience are still there, as long as you stand in the three-second zone, your opponents will still not dare to easily break through when they see you, as long as your defensive influence is still there... you can definitely take away this 2 million bonus!
This is a "defensive retirement insurance" plan that Lin Qi tailored for this 30-year-old veteran using his advanced defensive concepts!