24: The General Manager's Ecstasy

Lakers Headquarters, General Manager's Office.

Mitch Kupchak was leaning back in his leather chair, holding a cup of steaming coffee.

He was in a very good mood.

Last night's victory, especially Lin Feng's earth-shattering twelve three-pointers, had sent all of Los Angeles into a frenzy.

The team's phone lines were ringing off the hook, and ticket sales had skyrocketed overnight.

As the team's operator, there was no morning more wonderful than this.

He opened his computer, preparing to deal with the mountain of emails.

Most were scouting reports, business cooperation proposals, and media interview requests.

He screened through them skillfully until, suddenly, the sender of one email made him stop his scrolling mouse.

Patterson.

The team's most senior and most taciturn video analyst.

An old-school employee who never wasted words and never sent anything irrelevant.

Kupchak remembered him, a man so rigorous he was almost rigid.

The email's subject line was simple.

"A surprise you must see."

Kupchak's curiosity was piqued.

He opened the email; there was only one attachment, a video file lasting about a dozen seconds.

He pressed play.

The video footage was a bit shaky, clearly filmed on a cell phone, and the lighting was dim; the background was the empty training facility in the early morning.

A young figure wearing a Lakers training uniform stood with his back to the camera near the free-throw line.

Kupchak recognized him; it was Lin Feng.

In the video, Lin Feng took a deep breath and then began his move.

A turnaround.

The initial speed of this movement wasn't fast, but the sense of rhythm was peculiar.

Following that was the fadeaway.

His body stretched out in the air, forming a beautiful arc.

Finally, the jump shot release.

The entire movement was fluid and seamless.

The coffee cup in Kupchak's hand stopped mid-air.

His eyes were fixed motionlessly on the screen.

That posture, that rhythm, that angle of the fadeaway... it was all too familiar.

He had seen this movement thousands of times from this office and from his courtside seat.

That was Kobe Bryant's signature!

In the video, the basketball traced a perfect parabola.

"Swish!"

The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net was exceptionally clear in the quiet office.

The video ended there.

Kupchak suddenly stood up from his chair, which slid back from his movement and hit the bookshelf with a dull thud.

He ignored it completely.

He reached out with a slightly trembling hand and clicked "Replay."

Once.

Twice.

Five times.

He replayed that dozen-second video over and over, the expression on his face rapidly shifting from initial surprise to disbelief, and finally, into an irrepressible ecstasy.

The movement was still raw.

There were still flaws in the way he applied power.

But that spirit, that unique rhythm belonging to a superstar scorer—it was the spitting image of a young Kobe!

Kupchak's chest heaved violently.

He finally understood exactly what kind of monster he had picked up.

A shooter with historic-level full-court three-point range.

Now, this shooter was receiving personal instruction from the league's top isolation player and was beginning to absorb his techniques at an unbelievable speed!

This wasn't a simple 1+1.

What would happen if a turret that could fire from anywhere was equipped with a bayonet for close-quarters combat?

An unstoppable offensive weapon!

A franchise cornerstone!

These words suddenly flashed into Kupchak's mind.

He had originally thought Lin Feng was a pleasant surprise, a super puzzle piece that could help the team through a difficult time.

Now he realized he might have been dead wrong.

Lin Feng wasn't a puzzle piece.

He might be the blueprint for the Lakers' next ten years!

Kupchak could no longer sit still; he paced back and forth in his office like an anxious lion.

No, he had to be given space!

He had to be given unlimited green light and room for error!

He grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed head coach D'Antoni's number directly.

The call was answered almost instantly.

"Mitch, good morning. I imagine you were also too happy about last night's victory to sleep?" D'Antoni's relaxed voice came through the receiver.

Kupchak was in no mood for jokes.

"Mike, listen, I don't care what method you use!"

His voice was urgent and powerful, carrying an unquestionable tone of command.

"Starting today, Lin must be given sufficient tactical status and room for error in the regular season!"

D'Antoni on the other end of the line was stunned.

"Mitch? What are you talking about? Of course I'll give him a major role, his performance last night..."

"No, you don't understand what I mean!" Kupchak interrupted him. "I'm not talking about a major role; I'm talking about core status! Develop him like you're developing a franchise cornerstone!"

D'Antoni was even more bewildered.

He admitted Lin Feng was great, but to establish him as a franchise cornerstone after just one game? That was crazy.

"Mitch, calm down, this doesn't fit..."

"Go check your email right now!" Kupchak gave him no chance to argue and forwarded the video directly.

"Look at this, Mike! After you watch it, you'll understand that what we've got might be more than just a shooter!"

After saying that, he hung up the phone and leaned against his desk, panting heavily.

On the other side, D'Antoni hung up the phone in confusion and opened the email Kupchak had just sent.

When the dozen-second video finished playing...

D'Antoni held his phone and fell into a long silence.

As a top offensive tactical master, he could see what lay behind this movement even more clearly than Kupchak.

It wasn't simple imitation.

It was a profound understanding of the body, rhythm, and shooting space.

A shooter suddenly possessing top-tier on-ball offensive potential.

This meant that all of his playbooks might have to be redrawn because of this... Meanwhile.

In the physical therapy room of the Lakers' training facility.

Lin Feng was lying in a bathtub filled with herbs, undergoing a medicinal bath for recovery.

The warm medicinal water soaked his aching body, with currents of warmth seeping deep into his muscles, repairing the damage from this morning's hellish training.

With his eyes closed, Kobe's movements and every detail of his own turnaround fadeaways replayed over and over in his mind.

He had no idea that his unintentional shot had already caused such a massive stir within the team's management.

Nor did he know that his life trajectory had undergone another significant change because of that dozen-second video.