"Three years, twenty-two million! The Spurs are going all-in! Even Ginobili is on board with this! Do you see this, Link? This is the value you've created!"
On the drive back from Beverly Hills, Andrew couldn't hide his excitement.
Link had just had his first offseason meeting with the San Antonio Spurs.
Without a doubt, they were a professional, highly sincere organization. Back at the start of the season, when Link was just a nobody on a ten-day contract, they had actively reached out with an offer.
Now, they were back with a contract full of genuine respect.
"With this offer in hand, the Lakers have to step up if they want to keep you. It gives us way more leverage in negotiations!" Andrew said, brimming with confidence.
He seemed to already be mentally rehearsing how he would haggle with Mitch Kupchak.
"No, Andrew. I'm not taking that deal," Link said, shaking his head.
"But that brings your average salary to... Huh!?" Andrew froze for a second before yelping, "Are you crazy?"
"That is twenty-two million dollars, fully guaranteed," Andrew said urgently, as if Link didn't understand the magnitude of the numbers.
"I want to negotiate a new contract with the Lakers. One year," Link said firmly.
(Note: Under NBA rules, if a Restricted Free Agent accepts an offer sheet from another team, the original team only has the option to match the full terms to retain the player; they cannot alter the contract details.)
"But... why would you do that?" Andrew had never heard a request like this.
Everyone knew the NBA was full of uncertainty. Generally speaking, players always chased long-term security.
"Why?" Link repeated Andrew's question, his voice cutting clearly through the quiet luxury car.
He couldn't exactly tell Andrew that because of "The System"—his secret RPG-like interface that allowed him to upgrade his skills—he had absolute confidence in his future growth.
"Andrew," Link said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "by the time next season wraps up, my value is going to be a hell of a lot higher than three years and twenty-two million."
Andrew was stunned. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
He had met plenty of confident players. But he had never met a rookie who, right after finishing his first season with a lucrative long-term contract on the table, would flat-out reject it because he felt "undervalued" and was willing to gamble his entire financial future on it.
"Link, I... look, I believe in your potential, but the NBA is unpredictable," Andrew hesitated, then pressed on.
"I don't mean to be negative, but injuries, slumps, roster changes... these things happen. A fully guaranteed contract is the foundation of your career! We can wait three years until you're even better, and then chase the max contract!"
Andrew tried to be the voice of reason. "Giving up long-term security to bet on a single year? The risk is astronomical! If you get hurt, or if your shooting goes cold..."
Link just shook his head again. That contract would lock his value for three years. That was unacceptable to him.
"Relax, Andrew. I'm going to be a different beast after this offseason. Trust me," Link said with conviction.
He paused for a moment before adding, "Andrew, go talk to Kupchak. Based on my performance this season, tell him I want a one-year deal. Somewhere around nine million dollars."
Andrew was shaken by the sheer certainty in Link's voice.
His brain was working overtime. From a pure risk-management perspective as an agent, this was insanity. But if Link was right? If he really could back up that talk? It would be a high-risk, high-reward investment for the ages.
"One year, nine million..." Andrew muttered. "Considering your playoff performance and the pressure from the Spurs' offer... it's not impossible. But Link, you need to be sure. What if..."
"There is no 'what if,'" Link interrupted again.
"Andrew, I take full responsibility for my own judgment. Tell the Lakers: either give me a short-term deal, or... we start seriously considering San Antonio."
"Alright, Link." Andrew hesitated a few more times before finally nodding. "If you insist... I will make your position very clear to Mitch Kupchak."
---
Over the next few days, Andrew's phone practically turned into a hotline.
The Spurs' three-year, $22 million offer wasn't a secret, and it quickly sparked discussions across the league.
The maturity Link displayed in the playoffs, combined with his rare skillset as an elite shooter, forced many teams to re-evaluate his worth. More importantly, he was only twenty-one, had room to grow, and possessed massive marketing potential in market.
Inquiries and tentative offers flew toward Andrew like a blizzard of emails and phone calls.
The Toronto Raptors offered four years at $25 million; they desperately needed perimeter firepower to build around Chris Bosh.
The New Orleans Hornets put up three years at $20 million, promising to make Link a key partner for Chris Paul.
The Atlanta Hawks even offered a player option—a luxury usually reserved for superstars.
Andrew methodically organized and evaluated every offer, communicating them to Lin one by one. But Link's reaction remained the same: polite acknowledgement, followed by a refusal to negotiate further.
"Tell them I appreciate the love, but right now I'm focused on working things out with the Lakers, and... carefully considering the invitation from San Antonio." Link's stance hadn't shifted.
However, among all the incoming calls, there was one Link hadn't expected.
The caller ID showed a number from Ohio.
When he picked up, a very distinctive, deep voice came through the receiver.
"Yo, Link. You got a minute? Wanted to chop it up with you."
LeBron James.
By 2006, "King James" was already a two-time All-Star and the absolute heart and soul of the Cleveland Cavaliers. A personal recruitment call from him carried serious weight.
"Hey, LeBron. Yeah, sure," Link said, slightly surprised.
"Man, I've been watching your game," LeBron said, his voice enthusiastic and direct. "You've been balling out."
"Thanks, LeBron. You guys were killing it in the East, too," Link replied, keeping it polite.
"Listen, brother," LeBron cut to the chase, his tone turning sincere and infectious. "I heard about the Spurs' offer. I know you've got options right now, but I want you to think about another possibility. Come to The Land. Come to Cleveland."
He picked up the pace. "Just imagine the looks you'd get playing next to me. Our transition game, the drive-and-kick system... you'd fit in perfectly. You'd be eating out there."
"We're a team on the rise, and we need young guys just like you. You could be a critical piece of a championship puzzle."
"Cleveland might be a small market, but we've got the best fans in the world. They'd love you."
LeBron's pitch was incredibly genuine.
Link listened quietly. Getting a personal invite from the future face of the league did cause a ripple of emotion. But he had already weighed all his options.
"LeBron," Link said calmly, "First off, I really appreciate the respect and the invite. That means a lot."
"Playing alongside you would be a huge opportunity for any player."
He paused, then continued, "But right now, based on my career plan, my focus is really narrowed down to Los Angeles and San Antonio."
"I started my career with the Lakers, and the Spurs have shown incredible sincerity."
"I'm sorry, LeBron. I can't put Cleveland in the mix right now. But I genuinely wish you and the Cavs the best next season. I know you guys are going to achieve greatness."
There was a two or three-second silence on the other end, followed by LeBron's loud, hearty laugh.
"Haha, alright, brother! I respect the honesty. Either way, stay in touch! But next time we see you on the court, I'm not taking it easy on you!"