Smith's face showed a slight hint of surprise.
For an NBA-level player, the accuracy on wide-open three-pointers is extremely high; hitting 90% or even 95% when they have a good rhythm isn't uncommon.
But completing that many shots in around eight minutes, while maintaining picture-perfect form and a smooth release every single time, is pretty rare, especially for a minor league guy.
"Link, nice shooting," Smith said, giving a thumbs-up.
"Phew..." Link let out a breath, wiping the fine layer of sweat from his forehead with a towel handed to him by the ball boy.
Thanks to the training he did yesterday, today's session just broke his personal best!
"Alright, up next... second round of shooting, 50 shots. Time starts now!"
Although the second round was only 50 shots, they were taken from different spots: ten each from the two corners, the two 45-degree wings, and the top of the arc. The tri-out players had to run to catch the pass and then shoot under pressure.
The difficulty and the physical toll were miles beyond taking open threes.
Link loosened up his arms, did a few quick sprints and jumps, and then signaled the coach to start.
Starting from the left corner, as the whistle blew, Link sprinted out two steps beyond the arc, executed a half-spin, and dashed to the spot.
Catching the ball over the defender, he squared up, took off, and shot!
"Clang..."
A brick...
"Clank!"
"Clang!"
"Clank!"
"Clang..."
Five straight misses echoed through the gym.
"Tough break," Smith shook his head.
Link's shooting motion was still flawless and fluid, but...
It was a ton of effort, but the scoreboard read zero-for-five...
The defensive intensity in the NBA is nowhere near the minor leagues. It demands an incredibly high standard from shooters, and many talented snipers struggle to adapt.
---
Yet, Link, after missing five in a row, wasn't flustered. Instead, his mindset became calmer, and his movements felt more natural.
After a few attempts, he had completely adjusted to the new rhythm.
Link controlled his breathing, and with a thought, the system's cold prompt sounded in his mind.
[Focused Shooter Lv1 Activated!]
"Swish!"
The sixth shot dropped right through the net!
Then, as if he had flipped a switch, the sound of the ball hitting nothing but net rang out repeatedly, making everyone in the gym turn their heads.
"10 minutes and 29 seconds, 42-of-50!"
"Oh My God!"
Smith couldn't believe his eyes. Link got this score after starting with five straight misses!
That means he hit 42 out of the remaining 45 shots!
Smith was seeing the in-game adjustment ability of a Ray Allen or a Reggie Miller—and it was coming from a minor league player.
"Link, that was outstanding!" Smith gave a genuine compliment, drawing a big circle on his clipboard.
However, during the physical testing that followed, Link's performance was, well, nothing special.
"Standing Reach: 8'6" (260.9 cm), Vertical Jump: 24" (61 cm), Max Vertical: 29" (74 cm), 3/4 Court Sprint: 3.87 seconds, Bench Press (185 lbs): 2 reps..."
All his metrics were extremely average, falling below the NBA standard.
Smith looked at the combine data in his hand, his brow slightly furrowed.
Link's static talent was decent, but his dynamic athleticism just wouldn't cut it in the NBA—a league full of genetic freaks.
"Alright, Link, last thing: the scrimmage," Smith put away his clipboard and pointed to the other side of the court.
The other guys trying out today, along with a few Lakers rotation players, were doing their stretching there.
"Okay, hustle up! Last drill of the day, a 20-minute scrimmage," Smith blew his whistle, and the players jogged over.
These scrimmages usually involved bench guys or tri-out players like Link; the starters rarely participated.
However, Link noticed a familiar face on the opposing side: Smush Parker.
In his previous life, Parker was infamous—a player Kobe repeatedly blasted for not being worthy of the NBA.
"Link, you're guarding Smush!"
"Got it," Link nodded, instantly feeling the pressure mount.
Parker, chewing gum casually, gave Link a dismissive glance—the look of a pro looking down on a minor league scrub.
"Hey, rook, you ready? This ain't your playground out here," he said, flexing his wrists with a touch of mockery in his voice.
Link didn't respond. He just quietly put on the blue jersey and walked to his half of the court. He remembered that this season was Parker's first contract after bouncing around overseas.
Phil Jackson, the Zen Master, saw something in his off-ball movement and defensive positioning learned in international leagues, and immediately slotted him in as the starting point guard.
While he might not have impressed a superstar like Kobe, Parker's speed, defense, and driving ability were going to be a huge test for the current Link.
"Beep!" The whistle blew, and the game began. The White Team started with the ball!
Parker slowly dribbled the ball across half court. Link was laser-focused, ready to fight through screens and stay attached.
After a few simple passes, Parker got the ball back on the wing and signaled his teammates to clear out one side—isolation time.
"Rook, let me teach you how we play in the NBA!" Parker did a few simple crossover moves, then a lightning-fast change of direction and used his explosive burst to leave Link in the dust!
Link reacted quickly, shuffling his feet, but Parker's first step was simply faster than any opponent he'd faced before, and he also had the physical edge.
Parker seized the opportunity to explode into the paint. Facing the Blue Team's help-side big man, he finished with a smooth reverse layup for two points.
"Too slow, kid!" Parker yelled, hitting Link with some trash talk on the way back down the court.
Smith frowned on the sideline. Link's athletic disadvantage was glaringly obvious in the very first possession.
---
Now, it was the Blue Team's turn to attack.
Link tried to get open by running off-ball, but Parker's defense was like a shadow, constantly bumping him, disrupting his cuts, and initiating frequent physical contact.
The ball was passed around a few times and eventually ended with a rushed, missed mid-range shot.
For the next few possessions, Link was clearly struggling on both ends of the court.
Defensively, he couldn't keep up with Parker's quick drive, getting blown by several times and relying on his teammates' rotations to clean up his mess.
Offensively, he could barely get the ball. Parker's tight defense made it hard for him to find a comfortable spot to receive a pass. Even when he did get the ball, Parker's aggressive pressure made it nearly impossible to find his shooting rhythm. One forced shot was wildly off, and the next was nearly picked off by Parker who read the play perfectly.
Link was breathing heavily, his jersey soaked with sweat.
He felt the immense pressure—this was NBA-level competition, a completely different dimension from the games he was used to.
Physical fatigue and mental frustration hit him at the same time.
But he quickly realized that trying to beat Parker with speed and strength was a dead end. He had to play smarter, using his strengths and avoiding his weaknesses.
On the Blue Team's next possession, instead of running to get open like before, Link actively set a screen for his teammate with the ball.
After a few cross-screens, Link found himself switched onto one of the big men, who was much slower.
He executed a back-door cut fake, then spun back to the corner. His teammate delivered the ball perfectly, catching the big man completely flat-footed.
The rhythm was perfect, and he had plenty of space! Link calmly took off and shot!
"Swish!"
Three points! He had finally broken the scoring drought!
For the rest of the game, Link started to play with much more composure.
On defense, he constantly changed his strategy, using screens and picks to create mismatches.
Link had the advantage of a 2025 basketball mind, and his understanding of the pick-and-roll was far ahead of this era. His several quick, clever cuts and pop-outs made Smith, who was watching courtside, nod in approval.
After another fake screen, Link received the ball near the free-throw line, facing the center who had slid over for help defense.
A quick eye-fake, a flick of the wrist, and he dished the ball to a wide-open teammate under the basket for an easy two points.
"Great play, Link!" Smith excitedly gave Link a high-five as he ran back on defense.
Led by Link, the Blue Team played better and better, actually matching Parker's White Team point-for-point!
With 21 seconds left, the score was 45-46. The Blue Team was down by one, but they had possession.
During the timeout, Link was sucking wind, but he was busy explaining the tactics for the final possession to his teammates.
"Link, what kind of cut is that you're talking about?" the big man asked in a deep, booming voice, scratching his head.
The others looked confused, too.
Link had told the team's two big men to stand side-by-side at the 45-degree angle outside the free-throw line, forming a queue.
Everyone knew that position was useless for setting a solid screen or boxing out for a rebound; if they missed the shot, they were guaranteed to lose.
"Trust me, it's our secret weapon," Link said with a mysterious smile.
The others exchanged glances. If Link hadn't shown such high basketball IQ and tactical awareness earlier, they would have refused immediately.
On the other side, Parker's face was grim. His expected blowout win hadn't materialized, and now he faced the possibility of a buzzer-beater loss.
For the proud Parker, being pushed this hard by a tri-out player was a massive insult.
He locked his eyes on Link, determined not to let the damn rookie even touch the ball.
"Beep—" The timeout whistle signaled the end of the break.
The players returned to the court. The air seemed to freeze, and the only sounds in the gym were the ball bouncing and the players' heavy breathing.
Link looked calm. He stood in the right corner and made a signal to the point guard and the two big men—bringing his hands together in front of his chest.
The gesture made Smith slightly pause. He didn't recognize that specific tactical call.
Before he could think more, the game resumed!
The Blue Team's point guard dribbled cautiously on the perimeter, running down the clock.
With nine seconds left, Link made his move.
He didn't run straight to the three-point line. Instead, he cut toward the baseline and into the paint, drawing Parker to follow him tightly.
At the same time, Link signaled with his eyes, and the two Blue Team big men understood instantly. They quickly moved up to a spot just above the free-throw line, standing shoulder-to-shoulder like two giant "Door Gods," forming a narrow "doorway."
"What kind of run is that?" a flicker of doubt crossed Parker's mind, but his defensive instinct kept him glued to Link.
Just as Link was about to crash into the "door," he made a quick, agile pivot and slid right through the gap between the two big men!
In that exact split second, the two big men acted as one, stepping together and their towering bodies slammed shut!
"Bang!" A solid human wall was formed instantly, perfectly boxing out the trailing Parker!
Parker was caught completely off guard, his feet stopping dead in their tracks.
"What?!" Courtside, Smith shot up from his seat, his eyes wide. He had never seen such a precise and decisive off-ball screening tactic!
It was... a three-point play custom-made for a shooter!
In a flash, Link was wide open at the top of the arc.
His teammate's pass was like a guided missile, hitting his hands perfectly.
In front of him was an ocean of open space!
The White Team's center realized the danger and rushed out to contest, but it was too late.
Link caught the ball, bent his knees, jumped, and released...
His gaze was focused and steady. The muscle memory from countless hours of shooting allowed him to execute a perfect shooting motion, even in a state of extreme fatigue.
The ball sailed through the air in a beautiful arc, spinning slowly, drawing the eyes of everyone in the gym.
Time seemed to slow down in that moment.
"Swish!"
Crisp, sweet, like the sound of music!
The ball went straight through the net without touching the rim!
Basket good! The light came on! Game winner!
"Yeah!" Link's teammates instantly erupted, rushing toward him as he stood motionless, holding his follow-through, slapping his head and shoulders wildly.
"Unbelievable! Unbelievable!" Smith excitedly waved his clipboard, looking at Link with shock and pure joy.
Link wrestled free from the group. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his chest heaved, but his eyes were bright as stars.
The "Elevator Doors" play!
In the future, the era-defining superstar Stephen Curry and his Warriors dynasty would make this play famous, only for the league to eventually ban its use due to its effectiveness.
But now, in 2005, the curtain for the "Elevator Doors" play was raised early, by Link, on the stage of an NBA tryout.