The noise on the court slowly died down; the students watching the game seemed to still be buzzing with excitement.
"What's up, Russell?" Link asked, a little surprised by his friend's demeanor.
"Nothing, it's just..." Westbrook stammered, "Is there any way you could possibly get me into the Lakers facility? I want to play a game with Kobe!"
"Uh…" Now it was Link's turn to feel awkward. He was barely holding onto a roster spot and had no right to make that kind of request.
However, Link didn't immediately turn him down. He promised to see what he could do, but he also admitted that he might be leaving the Lakers soon.
"What?!" Westbrook looked absolutely stunned.
Link hesitated for a moment, but seeing the pure, passionate look in Westbrook's eyes, he nodded and explained:
"Yeah, the San Antonio Spurs—they offered me a one-year, $700,000 contract."
"So?" Westbrook asked directly. He wasn't one for beating around the bush.
"My Lakers contract is almost up, and my future here is uncertain," Link sighed. "The Spurs offer looks more... stable."
"Stable?" Westbrook's expression suggested he'd heard the weirdest word ever.
He clapped Link hard on the shoulder, his voice involuntarily jumping up an octave.
"Hey, man! Listen to me! Stability is for people who are scared of a challenge! Look around, look at the Staples Center! You're a Laker! You're wearing the purple and gold! You get to play with Kobe Bryant!"
Westbrook stared into Link's eyes, his tone suddenly incredibly serious.
"The Spurs are great, Popovich is a genius, but they have a ton of rules! You'll just be a cog in a machine there! But here, with the Lakers, right next to Kobe, you have a chance to become a legend!"
> "Think about it! Competing against the best, proving yourself on the biggest stage—that's what fuels you! Seven hundred thousand? Once you build your value, you'll make seven million, easy!"
Westbrook's words came out like rapid fire—simple, direct, even a little reckless, but full of powerful impact and pure infectious energy.
He wasn't analyzing the pros and cons or talking about money; he was simply expressing the most primal desire for the spotlight.
"Forget that stability nonsense," he practically yelled, finishing his point.
"Ask yourself: Do you want to be a well-behaved soldier, or do you want to be a general who decides the game? Want safety? Go to San Antonio! Want to be a legend? Stay in LA and run with us!"
He said "us" as if he were already an official member of the Los Angeles Lakers.
Link rubbed his nose, looking at the young man who would dedicate most of his prime years to Oklahoma City.
Having used up all his energy, Westbrook instantly returned to his usual carefree self, hitting Link hard on the chest.
"Of course, it's your final call! But I think you belong here! I'm out. Next time we go one-on-one, I'm definitely going to win!"
Westbrook turned and walked away with his gym bag, and as Link watched him go, a wave of admiration washed over him.
He was always so genuine and unbound.
Every word he spoke hit Link right in the gut.
The Spurs' offer was indeed generous, but only for him right now.
With the boost from the system, Link's improvement was rapid and noticeable. He was fully confident he could become a stable rotation player within one or two seasons.
At that point, the Spurs' team-first system might actually limit his development.
Taking a long breath, Link felt a certain resolve setting in.
From the start, he didn't just want to be an efficient cog in a tightly run machine.
He wanted to fight alongside a legend like Kobe Bryant and restore the fallen glory of the Lakers after Shaq's departure.
The Spurs' system might suit him now, but the Lakers offered a bigger stage and limitless possibilities.
With the system on his side, he had the confidence to challenge everything. Why settle for being a mere part?
He had the means to gamble for a more brilliant future, rather than accepting a seemingly safe minimum contract promise.
With that thought, Link's furrowed brow relaxed, his eyes regained their firm resolve, and a relieved smile spread across his face.
Back at the apartment, Andrew immediately approached him like a cat to fresh fish, waving handwritten notes about the Spurs' tactical analysis and salary cap he had stayed up late compiling.
"Link ! You're finally back! Look, I broke down the Spurs' salary structure and team situation—"
"Andrew," Link cut him off, his voice calm but holding an undeniable resolution. "I've decided to stay with the Lakers. I'm not taking the Spurs offer."
Andrew's flailing arms froze mid-air, his eyes wide as saucers. "What? Link , are you crazy? That's a $700,000 guaranteed contract! What can the Lakers give you? Another ten-day deal? More bench time?"
"I know," Link walked to the window, looking out at the dazzling lights of the LA skyline.
"$700,000 is a lot, and the Spurs are great. But Andrew, some things are more important than money. I want to stay here, play with Kobe, and prove myself at Staples. I know I can earn way more than $700,000!"
"Besides, even if the Lakers don't re-sign me in the end, it won't be too late to try out for the Spurs then!"
Andrew stared at Link's back. He opened his mouth but ultimately swallowed his words. He sighed, then gave Link a firm clap on the shoulder.
"Fine! Since you've made up your mind, then your future star agent will bet on you! We'll figure out a way to get the Lakers front office to give you a decent contract."
Link smiled, not contradicting Andrew's grand pronouncements.
He pulled out his phone, found the number for the man in Texas, and resolutely dialed it.
The call connected.
"Hello, Mr. Exum, this is Link." His voice was clear and steady. "Thank you very much for your and the Spurs' interest in me. That contract was a great honor."
"However, after careful consideration, I've decided to stay in Los Angeles and continue playing for the Lakers. Thank you very much for the offer, and I apologize."
Roger Exum on the other end was silent for a few seconds, seemingly surprised, but quickly returned with a professional response.
"I respect your decision, Link . Good luck, and please feel free to reach out to me if anything changes in the future."
"Thank you, Mr. Exum."
Hanging up the phone, Link felt his whole body lighten, as if a huge burden had been lifted.
The choice was made. All that remained was to charge forward in the chosen direction, without looking back.
And what he needed to do now was perform well enough before his ten-day contract expired to win over the Lakers' management and secure a contract extension to remain in the purple and gold.