6:45 AM. Staples Center practice facility.
Kobe and Link had already hammered through four sets of shooting drills.
"Hold up." Kobe palmed the ball, walking to the sideline to grab a whiteboard.
Link followed, watching him quickly map out a few spots on the court.
"I spent a long time chewing on last night's tape." Kobe tapped the marker against the right elbow.
"You're lethal from this spot, but your efficiency took a nosedive in the fourth quarter."
"Marion adjusted," Link said. "He started fronting me. Made it hell to get a clean catch."
"Which is why we counter." Kobe slashed a new cutting route across the board.
"If your first backdoor cut gets jammed up, you need a secondary read."
He drew a hard line at the stripe.
"Bynum sets a dummy screen off the ball, then slips it hard."
"You cut backdoor right here. By then, Odom has already sealed his man, leaving you wide open in the corner."
Link mentally ran through the sequence.
It was a hell of a lot more complex than their usual sets.
"Sounds good on paper," Link nodded. "But we need live reps."
"That's why we're starting right now." Kobe dropped the marker. "But before we do—"
The gym doors pushed open.
Phil Jackson strolled in.
Beside the Zen Master was a middle-aged man in a sharp navy suit, his hair combed flawlessly into place.
Trailing behind him was a group of young guys.
They were all decked out in matching practice gear, looking green and intensely curious.
Kobe set the whiteboard down, raising an eyebrow. "Coach K?"
Mike Krzyzewski.
The legendary head coach of Duke University.
Everyone just called him "Coach K."
"Kobe. I hope we aren't interrupting your workout," Coach K said with a warm smile.
"Not at all." Kobe walked over to shake his hand, glancing at the crew behind him.
Link instantly recognized a few of the faces.
Greg Oden, Kevin Durant, Mike Conley—
Along with a few other standout prospects he'd seen on national television.
"These are the young guys from our National Select Team," Coach K explained.
The collegiate stars nodded. Oden flashed a wide grin, while Durant looked a bit more reserved.
"We're gearing up for the 2007 FIBA Americas Championship," Coach K continued.
"I brought the boys down here so they could get an early taste of NBA-level physicality, and to get an up-close look at how you operate."
Coach K stepped toward the sideline, his eyes sweeping the empty gym.
Kobe looked at Link, then back at the Select Team squad. "We're short on bodies."
The Lakers only had Kobe, Link, and two trainers in the gym.
Not enough for a full five-on-five scrimmage.
Right on cue, a voice chimed in.
"I—I can play."
Everyone turned toward the sound.
A young ball boy stood off to the side.
His face was flushed crimson. "I—I can fill in the last spot."
Coach K raised an eyebrow at the scrawny teenager. "And you are?"
"Ian. He's one of our ball boys," Link stepped in smoothly. "He's got game."
Kobe stared Ian down for a few seconds before giving a short nod. "Alright, Ian. Go suit up."
Ian's eyes lit up like fireworks. He dropped his mop bucket and sprinted for the locker room.
After a quick warmup, the scrimmage tipped off.
First possession. Mike Conley brought the ball up the floor, looking to set the offense.
Ian stepped up immediately, applying aggressive full-court pressure.
But Conley's handle was elite. With a lightning-fast behind-the-back dribble, he blew right past the kid.
He collapsed the defense at the free-throw line and kicked it out to Durant on the wing.
Facing Link, Durant immediately squared up into the triple threat.
He threw a hard jab step before exploding down the right side.
His stride was incredibly long; one step was enough to get his shoulders past the defender.
Link slid his feet quickly, bodying up and initiating hard physical contact.
At this stage in his career, Durant simply didn't have the strength.
Link cut off his angle completely, forcing the skinny forward into a tough turnaround jumper.
The ball clanked hard off the front iron.
But Oden snatched the offensive board out of the sky and hammered it back in for two.
Transition. Kobe brought the ball up.
He glanced at Link's positioning, then immediately put his head down and slashed into the paint.
The college kids couldn't even process his speed.
Three defenders instantly collapsed on him.
Threading the needle, Kobe whipped a pass through traffic out to Link on the perimeter.
Link caught it, didn't hold it, and swung it straight to Ian in the corner.
The teenager's hands were visibly shaking as he caught the leather.
But muscle memory took over. He bent his knees, elevated, and let it fly just like they practiced.
The release was buttery smooth!
The ball painted a perfect arc through the air.
Swish!
Nothing but net.
Ian let out a massive sigh of relief.
He looked over at Link, who flashed him a quick thumbs-up.
Back on offense for the collegiate squad.
Durant was clearly pissed about his last touch.
He demanded the ball on the mid-post, backing down Link.
After a quick feel for the defense, he spun and pulled up for a turnaround jumper.
It was his absolute sweet spot.
Link contested it perfectly, a hand right in his face, but the shot was just too pure.
Splash.
Next possession.
Kobe found himself on a switch, isolated against the massive Greg Oden.
One dribble to rhythm, pull-up three right in the big man's face.
Bang!
Off the make, the Select Team pushed the ball quickly inbounds.
Conley fired a full-court outlet pass.
Out of nowhere, Ian shot into the passing lane like a missile.
He deflected the ball in mid-air, tipping it to himself for a clean steal!
He put his head down and charged for the rim.
Conley was right on his heels.
Ian absorbed the contact from Conley as he went up for the layup.
Tweet!
The trainer blew the whistle.
The bump sent Ian stumbling out of bounds, but the ball rattled around the rim twice before dropping through.
AND ONE!
Link walked over, hauled Ian back to his feet, and slapped him on the shoulder.
Under Kobe and Link's leadership, the Lakers squad was humming perfectly.
Coach K stood on the sideline with his arms crossed, his eyes darting analytically between the players.
As the scrimmage wore on, Kobe gradually stopped hunting his own shot.
He shifted into pure facilitator mode, using his gravity to pick the defense apart.
He hit Ian and Link on beautiful back-cuts on back-to-back possessions, leading to two easy mid-range buckets.
When the scrimmage finally wrapped.
The final score was 42-34. The Lakers took the win.
Durant dropped 11 points, but it took him 9 shots to get there.
Oden finished with 8 points and 6 boards, but turned the ball over 3 times.
Kobe coasted to 8 points and 6 dimes.
Both Link and Ian scored in double digits.
"Good run," Coach K told his squad as they huddled up.
He pulled Durant aside. "Kevin, pay attention to how Kobe makes his reads. That level of decision-making is what you need to add to your game."
Durant nodded quietly, burying his face in a towel to wipe off the sweat.
After debriefing his guys, Coach K turned and walked straight over to the scrawny teenager.
Ian was already back to work, meticulously and quickly gathering up the loose basketballs.
"Son, what was your name again?" Coach K's voice was much softer now.
"Ian, sir." Ian snapped to attention, clearly nervous.
"Where do you go to school?" Coach K asked.
"Brentwood High, sir. I'm a sophomore." Ian instinctively glanced over at Link.
Coach K nodded slowly. He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a small notepad.
He jotted down a quick string of numbers, tore the sheet off, and handed it to the boy.
"This is my direct line. If you ever need any advice—about school or basketball—give me a call."
Ian took the slip of paper, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Thank you. Thank you, Coach K."
The legendary coach gave his shoulder a firm pat before turning to join Phil Jackson and Kobe.
Slowly, the gym began to empty out.
The college prospects filed out behind Coach K.
Durant was the last to leave. As he walked past Link, he paused.
"After the draft next year," Durant said, his eyes locked on Link. "I'll be seeing you."
"I'll be waiting," Link smiled back.
Once everyone was gone, the practice facility settled back into a quiet echo.
It was just Kobe and Link left on the hardwood.
"What Coach K mentioned earlier," Kobe said suddenly. "What are your thoughts?"
"About what?"
"The 2008 Olympics." Kobe turned to face him.
Link went quiet for a second.
Emotionally? There was no question. He wanted to be there.
But it was 2006. And in this timeline, his transmigration meant he wasn't officially a citizen.
Figuring out his eligibility was going to be a massive headache.
Kobe seemed to read his mind. "Talk to Yao. He might be able to pull some strings for you."
A competitive grin broke across Kobe's face. "Because when we meet on that court in Beijing... I'm guarding you myself!"
"Deal!" Link laughed, slapping hands with him hard.