Link was, once again, the first one in the gym that morning.
He didn't rush to shoot. Instead, he worked on mental drills, rehearsing defensive footwork and solidifying the progress from his intense training the night before, feeling out his body's feedback.
When the rest of the team started trickling in, the atmosphere was noticeably different.
Link could feel several sets of eyes on him, full of scrutiny and curiosity.
"Hey, rook," Devean George walked over and gave him a light bump with his shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.
"Heard you went one-on-one with Kobe last night? How was it? What's it feel like to get shredded by the Mamba?"
Link just silently tied his shoelaces.
"I bet the score was ugly, huh?" George pressed on. "But hey, lasting a little while against him shows you got some guts."
Link remained silent.
However, once the formal practice started, Link quickly gave George a surprise.
During the team scrimmage, Link was assigned to the second unit.
On the first possession, George tried to bully him with size and strength, the way he usually did, but Link's core was steady and his feet were quicker. Though he was still at a disadvantage, he wasn't easily pushed aside.
George's forced layup attempt missed after Link's active contest.
"Huh?" George raised an eyebrow.
On the next possession, Link used a hard back-cut to shake George and gain a half-step lead. Catching the pass, he didn't hesitate, immediately pulling up for the shot.
"Swish!"
Nothing but net!
George looked genuinely embarrassed.
Over the next few possessions, Link was no longer a defensive pushover.
He constantly used shuffles to stay in position and even managed a clean strip once or twice.
On offense, his off-ball movement was more elusive, and his decisiveness in catching and shooting was night and day compared to yesterday.
He still wasn't the best player on the floor, but the "invisible man" image from yesterday was completely gone.
"Damn, did you start juicing or something?" George muttered under his breath.
Meanwhile, Smush Parker's hostility toward Link was almost impossible to hide.
During one fast break, Link ran to an open spot and raised his hand for the ball, but Parker, who was handling the ball, completely ignored him, opting for a much tougher isolation drive that ended in a turnover.
As he jogged back, he shot Link a cold, hostile look.
Link saw it all, but didn't argue. He just threw himself harder into his defense and cutting.
On the court, words are cheap; performance speaks for itself.
After the scrimmage, Assistant Coach Brian Shaw called the players over for extra shooting. "Alright, fellas, let's get a round of threes in. Same rules as always."
Two and a half minutes, five spots, 25 balls, catch-and-shoot.
The players went up one by one. Since the time limit was fairly generous, most players—except for the big men who truly couldn't shoot—scored between 15 and 20 makes.
Sasha Vujačić hit 22, the highest score of the group.
"Link, you're up," Shaw directed his gaze at Link.
Link took a deep breath and walked to the corner.
He caught the pass and let it fly.
"Swish!"
"Swish!"
"Swish!"
The balls kept hitting the net, one after the other.
When the final three-pointer dropped from the right corner, the assistant keeping score yelled, "22-of-25!"
A tie with Vujačić!
"Not bad shooting, rook," Vujačić walked over with a competitive glint in his eye. "Wanna do a tiebreaker? We'll do one spot, consecutive makes. First one to miss loses."
"I'd be happy to," Link smiled.
Vujačić went first. He was red-hot, hitting ten in a row before the eleventh shot finally rimmed out.
The pressure was on Link. He walked calmly to the spot, caught the ball, and shot, his motion as steady as ever.
"Swish!" "Swish!" "Swish!"...
He tied the score at ten consecutive makes. The basketball flew in a perfect arc, hitting nothing but net!
The eleventh shot was money!
Link won!
Vujačić paused for a moment, then walked up and gave Link a friendly pat on the back. "Good work, man!"
---
Meanwhile, on the side of the training facility...
Kobe, the Zen Master, Kupchak, and a group of team brass were watching the practice from the bench, though the vibe between them was a little tense.
Mitch Kupchak rubbed his eyes, looking tired. "For the last spot on the active roster, I think we should keep Aaron McKie. He's a veteran, experienced, and we need that stable presence in the locker room."
The team's season opener against the Nuggets in Denver was tomorrow, and they needed to finalize the active roster before tip-off.
The Director of Player Personnel agreed. "Exactly. Aaron is great for locker room chemistry."
Head Assistant Coach Brian Shaw offered a different choice. "From a development standpoint, I lean more toward Devin Green. He's young, got energy, and his athletic profile is better."
The men debated, and their eyes eventually turned to Head Coach Phil Jackson.
The Zen Master was silent, weighing his options.
"Kobe, what's your take?" Jackson turned his attention to Kobe, who had been resting with his eyes closed.
Kobe just shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the whole affair.
But in his mind, he couldn't help but picture the figure who was pouring sweat in the gym, fighting tooth and nail just to score two points on him.
"In that case, then..." The Zen Master thought for a moment and was about to speak, but Kobe cut him off.
"Link."
The room went silent for a beat.
Kupchak tried to interject. "Kobe, we know he's a good shooter, but he just doesn't have the experience..."
Kobe turned around, his eyes sweeping across the group. He offered no further explanation, just one sentence: "He can shoot, and he'll fight his ass off out there."
After that, he looked away, saying no more.
The meaning was clear: I've said my piece, the rest is up to you.
No analysis, no comparisons, not even a look at anyone's reaction.
The men exchanged glances. While they were the team's management, Kobe was the franchise player, and his word carried weight. They had to consider it.
The atmosphere grew silent for a moment.
Phil Jackson's deep gaze lingered on Kobe for a moment, then he slowly nodded.
"Alright, Link is certainly a smart player," the Zen Master said without much expression. "We'll go with Kobe's pick..."
---
After practice ended, Link received a phone call in the locker room.
"Link, it's Kupchak. Get ready. You're flying to Denver tomorrow morning."
Link's heart gave a sudden leap.
"You made the active roster," Kupchak's tone was flat. "Don't waste this chance."
The call ended.
Link held his phone, his eyes scanning the locker room. His teammates were all looking at him with surprise.
A surge of indescribable excitement rushed over Link, and a strong sense of unreality made him feel dizzy.
Link took a deep breath, calmed his excitement, and quickly packed up to head home and get ready for the Denver trip!