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belamy20
This season's Christmas Day games were enough to keep the sports media buzzing for days.
"Dwyane Wade's 36 points and 8 assists put the world on notice: even without Shaq, the Heat are not to be underestimated."
"LeBron James's two clutch-time turnovers cost the Cavaliers their window. This victory belongs to The Flash."
"The shootout between Paul Pierce and Gilbert Arenas was an instant classic, but the Celtics had the last laugh."
"In his post-game interview, Pierce declared: 'We're bringing Celtic pride back.'"
"San Antonio and Dallas engaged in an absolute bloodbath. Tim Duncan's 22 points, 14 rebounds, and 5 blocks overpowered Dirk Nowitzki to seal the win."
"Popovich offered rare post-game praise for his team's defensive grit."
Yet, floating above all these superstar performances, Lakers forward Link commanded the brightest spotlight.
"The Prophet Delivers a Historic Night in Phoenix!"
That bold headline dominated the front page of nearly every major sports outlet.
"His 49 points rank fourth all-time for Christmas Day games, sitting only behind Bernard King, Michael Jordan, and Wilt Chamberlain!"
"Ten three-pointers set a brand-new Christmas Day record!"
"Shooting 18-of-28 from the field, he posted the second-highest efficiency rating in Christmas history for any player with over 25 attempts, trailing only Larry Bird in 1987!"
"At exactly 22 years and 3 months old, Link becomes the youngest player to drop 40+ on Christmas Day, shattering the record previously held by Kobe Bryant, who scored 45 at 22 years and 4 months in 2000!"
The media eagerly dissected every single record Link had just broken, happily placing his name right alongside the most legendary figures in the sport.
Naturally, the conversation inevitably circled back to the recent trade drama.
"Dr. Jerry Buss proves his eye for talent is as lethal as ever!" the Los Angeles Times declared on its front page.
"When the Lakers owner personally vetoed the Link-for-Shawn-Marion trade, how many critics dismissed it as a purely emotional decision?"
"Last night, Link let his 49 points do the talking, completely suffocating Marion on both ends of the floor."
"After tonight, no one will dare question that three-year, $45 million extension. And no one will doubt Dr. Buss's massive gamble!"
Right at that moment.
Inside Link's apartment on the Westside of Los Angeles.
The television was looping highlights from last night's game. Footage of Link draining back-to-back threes played over and over.
Andrew John sat on the couch, balancing a laptop on his knees. Several tabs were open on the screen simultaneously: ESPN, NBA.com, Yahoo Sports.
"It's insane. Completely insane," Andrew muttered, his voice thick with sheer disbelief and excitement.
"Your name hasn't left the front pages since last night!"
Link walked out of the kitchen.
"What's insane?"
"The press, the media, and... this." Andrew spun the laptop around to face him.
The screen displayed the live, real-time data for the NBA All-Star voting.
It was the second round of returns for the Western Conference frontcourt.
Yao Ming (Houston Rockets) — 1,542,786 votes
Kevin Garnett (Minnesota Timberwolves) — 1,234,567 votes
Tim Duncan (San Antonio Spurs) — 1,198,432 votes
Dirk Nowitzki (Dallas Mavericks) — 987,245 votes
Carmelo Anthony (Denver Nuggets) — 956,789 votes
Amar'e Stoudemire (Phoenix Suns) — 897,354 votes
Link (Los Angeles Lakers) — 876,543 votes
Carlos Boozer (Utah Jazz) — 832,156 votes
Shawn Marion (Phoenix Suns) — 798,432 votes
"Do you see this?" Andrew's voice was practically vibrating with hype.
"You've climbed to seventh place!"
Link took the laptop and studied the numbers.
It was true. The last time the returns were updated, he was on the board, but buried near the bottom.
After the Christmas Day game, his votes had absolutely skyrocketed.
"And this is only the second round of voting," Andrew continued rapidly.
"There are still four weeks left. If this trend holds up—"
He paused, locking eyes with Link.
"Link, you might actually make the All-Star game!"
Link stayed quiet for a few seconds before handing the laptop back.
"Fan voting is only one piece of the puzzle," he said smoothly.
"The fans pick the starters, but the coaches pick the reserves. Doesn't mean much right now." Link rubbed his temples.
"Sure, technically. But look at your production—" Andrew pulled up another tab.
It showed Link's season stats, updated right after the Christmas game.
Averaging 21.2 points, 4.7 rebounds, 3.2 assists, and 0.9 steals per game. Shooting 47.3% from the field, 41.3% from deep, and 81.5% from the line.
"Averaging over twenty points a night, a Asian-American background, playing for the Lakers, and..." Andrew jabbed a finger at the screen.
"The way you torched the Spurs and the Suns? Every coach in the league saw that."
He snapped the laptop shut and gave Link a dead-serious look.
"I'm not just blowing smoke here. With the way you're playing, there's a very real chance the coaches name you as a reserve."
Link walked over to the window, staring out at the Los Angeles night. A few cars drifted past on the streets below.
The All-Star game...
Last season, he was just an alternate for the Three-Point Contest.
Now, a goal that once felt impossibly out of reach was right on his doorstep.
"Oh, one more thing," Andrew added, as if suddenly remembering.
"Nike and Adidas reached out to me today." A sly smile crept into his voice.
"Even though we've already reached a preliminary agreement with Under Armour, they still want to make a final pitch."
"Tell them negotiations with Under Armour are going smoothly." Link turned around, raising an eyebrow.
"Unless they come back with an offer I absolutely can't refuse."
"Got it." Andrew nodded, chuckling again.
"Honestly though, after your performance last night, Under Armour's tone has gotten a whole lot more aggressive."
Link nodded. He wasn't surprised.
The business world was as grounded as it was brutal.
Your market value was always chained directly to your on-court performance.
Just then, his phone buzzed.
Link picked it up. It was a text from Kobe.
"Practice is an hour early tomorrow. We need to work on some new sets. Don't be late."
Short, direct, and classic Kobe.
No praise for the win, just a relentless focus on the next target.
Link typed a quick "Got it," hit send, and looked back at Andrew.
"Kobe wants to hit the gym early tomorrow for extra reps."
"Get some sleep, then." Andrew stood up and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Enjoy this moment, man. You earned it!"
The apartment grew quiet.
The TV was still replaying his tenth three-pointer.
The ball flew on a ridiculously high arc, practically scraping the top of the backboard before splashing perfectly through the net.
The commentator's voice cracked with pure adrenaline.
"Link! Another one! Ten threes! A brand-new Christmas Day record! This twenty-two-year-old kid is rewriting history!"