NABC Chapter 252 Things that can be solved with money aren't really problems.
Chapter 252 Things that can be solved with money aren't really problems.
With the spring dance party just over, Lin Yan's focus returned to his daily studies, training, and basketball. That afternoon, he, Tom, and Mike finished their usual tactical practice at Madison Square Garden, and the two were so exhausted that they collapsed onto the courtside floor, panting heavily.
Just then, Coach Holt, with a look of mystery and excitement on his face, glanced around and then furtively beckoned to Lin Yan, pulling him aside to the deserted player tunnel.
"Lin," Coach Holt lowered his voice, "insider information: on Saturday, May 21st, Wilt Chamberlain's Philadelphia Warriors are coming to Madison Square Garden to challenge the Knicks." He nudged Lin Yan with his elbow and winked, "Haven't you been saying you wanted to meet this 'stilt walker' in person, or even spar with him? I've been in this business for so many years, I have some connections, I can ask around for you, maybe arrange for you to come in before the game to watch the warm-up, or get an autograph or something."
Lin Yan's heart skipped a beat upon hearing this. His recent basketball training, without further unlocking his physical limitations and relying solely on his "ordinary" abilities, had indeed shown minimal progress, reaching a plateau. The thought of playing against someone with the most terrifying physical talent in basketball history—even just an informal sparring match—made him itch with excitement.
He looked at Coach Holt, who was beaming with enthusiasm and even a hint of pride in being able to help, and gave him a grateful smile. He patted the coach on the shoulder.
"Coach, thank you for telling me this news so soon. I appreciate your kind gesture."
He then changed the subject: "However, I'll leave the details of how we meet and what arrangements to make to my family."
"After all, in this world, things that can be solved with money aren't really problems. So there's no need for you to use your precious connections. Of course, to thank you, I'll treat you to Chinese food at my home this weekend—order whatever you like!"
Coach Holt was completely stunned by this domineering statement. He opened his mouth, unsure how to react. But then he thought it made perfect sense. After all, a family that would rent Madison Square Garden for their child's hobby couldn't possibly be an ordinary one.
Lin Yan turned and walked towards the court, already looking forward to meeting the "Basketball Emperor." A divine sense was silently sent to Alexander.
On May 20th, Frank McGuire—the general manager and head coach of the Philadelphia Warriors—sat in a leather armchair in the lobby of a New York hotel, an unlit cigar between his fingers, his thoughts already drifting to tomorrow's game against the Knicks. Just then, a white man in a Savile Row bespoke suit, carrying an alligator briefcase, walked straight up to him.
"Mr. McGuire? It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm White, the chief legal counsel for Golden Harvest Group." He offered his hand, his smile as perfect as if it had been measured with calipers.
"Our group greatly admires the Philadelphia Warriors' competitive spirit, and especially admires Mr. Wilt Chamberlain."
McGuire raised an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. Experience told him that this kind of opening usually followed by an endorsement contract or event invitation.
However, what White said next almost made him choke: "We have a small request. We hope that Mr. Chamberlain can take a little time after tomorrow's game to have a friendly one-on-one match with the child of one of our important clients, a high school student who loves basketball, for no more than 15 minutes."
McGuire almost burst out laughing. Send "The Big Dipper" Chamberlain to play with a high school student? But before he could speak, Attorney White took a letter of intent from his briefcase and gently pushed it in front of him.
"Of course, we fully understand the value of Mr. Chamberlain's time. Therefore, Golden Harvest Group is willing to pay a 'special sponsorship fee' of $50,000, which can be prepaid to the team's account immediately. In addition, if this exchange goes well, we will make the Philadelphia Warriors a long-term partner, and we can provide in-depth support in areas such as team promotion and youth basketball activities in the future." Attorney White was very calm, as if he was only talking about fifty dollars, not fifty thousand dollars.
McGuire's fingers unconsciously tightened around his cigar. Fifty thousand dollars! That's enough to cover the team's travel expenses for almost half a season, or a significant bargaining chip to acquire a solid rotation player for next season.
His mind raced: Wilt, though sometimes eccentric, had no doubt about his love for basketball. Perhaps... perhaps he could persuade him with a pretext like "mentoring the younger generation" or "promoting basketball"? After all, it was just a 15-minute recreational activity, and the other person was still a child. It wouldn't make Chamberlain feel threatened, and it would also allow him to show off his superstar demeanor.
He could almost see how this windfall could be used to strengthen the team and challenge the damn Boston Celtics, who loomed over the league like a shadow.
"Mr. White," McGuire took a deep breath, trying to sound calm despite his inner turmoil, "In principle, I think it's feasible to organize an event like this that aims to promote basketball exchange and inspire the younger generation. However, I need to speak with Wilt first; you know, he's one of our most important players."
He stood up, his face regaining its shrewd and enthusiastic professional smile: "Please give me some time. I believe that the Warriors and the Golden Harvest Group are very likely to create a... mutually beneficial and win-win situation."
Watching Attorney White politely take his leave, Manager McGuire clutched the letter of intent and hurried to the hotel receptionist's phone. He needed to find the most convincing way to get the basketball legend to agree to play a game with a complete stranger, a high school student, before Chamberlain headed out to his "Little Paradise" nightclub to relax.
Manager McGuire quickly located Chamberlain in his hotel suite, who was preparing to leave. The giant was straightening his expensive suit and tie in front of the mirror and seemed to be in a good mood.
"Wilt, do you have a moment? There's something... well, something special I'd like to talk to you about." McGuire tried to make his tone sound relaxed.
"Of course, Frank, as long as you don't tell me tomorrow's game is canceled." Chamberlain turned around, his signature unruly smile on his face.
“Well,” McGuire cleared his throat, organizing his thoughts, “I just met with a lawyer representing that grain and oil giant, Golden Harvest Group. They admire you greatly, you could say they are your ardent fans.”
Chamberlain shrugged; he'd heard that kind of flattery far too often. "So? Do they want me to endorse their product, or to cut the ribbon?"
“A little more personal than that.” McGuire took a few steps closer and lowered his voice. “They want you to take about 15 minutes after your game tomorrow to play a one-on-one friendly match with the child of one of their important clients, a high school student who loves basketball—as a way of… mentoring the younger player.”
Chamberlain's smile froze instantly. He almost thought he had misheard: "Wait, Frank, are you telling me that I, Wilt Chamberlain, should play house with a high schooler after back-to-back games?" His tone was filled with obvious disbelief and displeasure.
"Let me finish, Wilt, let me finish," McGuire quickly reassured him, knowing he had to get to the point. "This isn't just about mentoring a junior. They're very...sincere. They're willing to pay the team a $50,000 'sponsorship fee' for these 15 minutes."
"Fifty thousand?!" Chamberlain's tall frame paused for a moment; even for him, this was no small sum. He frowned, re-examining the matter: "A high school student? Worth them spending fifty thousand dollars just to fight me for 15 minutes? Frank, that sounds too strange."
"I know, I know it sounds incredible," McGuire pressed on, "but think about it, Wilt, it's not just about the money—though that money is crucial for the team's summer moves—it's also an opportunity to showcase your superstar status. Mentoring younger players and inspiring young talent is a huge boost to your public image. Besides, it's only 15 minutes, barely a warm-up for you, just a relaxing post-game shootout. They've assured you it's just a friendly exchange, with no unreasonable demands or attempts to embarrass you."
McGuire observed Chamberlain's expression and saw that the resistance in his eyes lessened, replaced by a mixture of curiosity and deliberation. He then added fuel to the fire.
"Think about it, Wilt. A hefty 'sponsorship fee' going into the team's account will help you make the team better; a casual charity event will make your 'giant' image even more towering in the eyes of the media and fans. And, honestly, I'm curious, what kind of high school student could make a well-connected corporation spend $50,000 just to create an opportunity to play against you? This kid... might actually be a bit special?"
Chamberlain remained silent for a long while. He walked to the window and looked at the New York night view. The $50,000 was indeed tempting, and McGuire's point was valid; this seemed more like a public relations event than a competition. He finally turned around, his face regaining that slightly playful smile:
"Okay, Frank, you've convinced me. For the sake of the team, and also... to satisfy my curiosity, I agree to play with that lucky kid for 15 minutes."
He extended his enormous finger and pointed it at McGuire, with a hint of warning:
"But it's 15 minutes, not a second more. And don't expect me to hold back, even if the opponent is a high school student."
McGuire finally felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders, and a smile spread across his face: "Of course, Wilt! I knew you'd prioritize the bigger picture! I'll go get back to them right away. I'll arrange everything after the game tomorrow."
Watching Chamberlain tidy himself up in front of the mirror, humming a tune as he prepared to leave, Manager McGuire breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, like Wilt, he also developed a slight interest in investigating the mysterious high school student.