At the Lakers' practice facility, the team's superstar, Kobe Bryant, was in the middle of his signature, endless extra workout session—Mamba Time.
"Thud... Swish..."
"Thud... Swish..."
The rhythmic sounds of the ball hitting the court and the net echoed persistently through the empty gym.
Every one of Kobe's movements was a blend of grace and raw power, and every jump and shot release met a nearly impossible standard of perfection.
His practice gear was completely soaked with sweat, but the focus in his eyes hadn't dimmed one bit.
Link was slumped against the base of the opposite hoop. The effects of his physical conditioning boost allowed him to move slightly, but he didn't leave. Instead, he quietly observed Kobe's workout.
It was a lesson, but more than that, it was awe-inspiring.
He watched Kobe drain over a hundred mid-range jumpers in a row, only to curse softly when one finally rimmed out off the back iron. Then, as if the hoop was his personal enemy, he attacked the rack with even more ferocious intensity.
"No wonder he's a legend," Link thought to himself.
That kind of self-imposed, almost cruel strictness is something most players simply don't have.
After what felt like forever, Kobe finally stopped shooting.
He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, his gaze sweeping across the court until it settled on Link, who was still watching him.
Kobe didn't say anything at first. He just picked up a ball, gave it a couple of quick bounces, and walked straight toward Link's half of the court.
"Boom... Boom... Boom..."
The sound of the ball bouncing in the silent gym was sharp and clear, each bounce seeming to match the rhythm of Link's heartbeat.
Kobe stopped in front of him, looking down with a gaze that was both cold and laser-focused.
"Rook," Kobe's voice was slightly hoarse from the workout, but carried an undeniable air of authority. "I heard about your tryout. That play you ran was pretty good."
Link was surprised. He stood up and answered cautiously, "Thank you, Mr. Bryant."
"Come on." Kobe was concise. He immediately got into a standard defensive stance. "Let's play a little one-on-one."
One-on-one!
Link's heart leaped.
Perhaps Kobe was bored training alone, and now he was challenging him to a duel—this was an opportunity straight from heaven!
Link took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with determination.
He took the ball and walked beyond the three-point line. This was a chance to learn from Kobe. Even if he got absolutely smoked, he had to take it!
"Start us off," Kobe said, generously giving him the first possession before settling into his defensive spot.
Link felt an invisible pressure surround him, but he was buzzing with excitement on the inside.
This was Kobe Bryant—the "Black Mamba" of 2005, a generational player, one of the greatest ever, and an idol for countless hoopers!
The chance to play him one-on-one made the blood rush through Link's veins, his eyes burning with intense desire.
Kobe seemed to notice the change in Link's demeanor, and surprisingly, he raised an eyebrow. Then he lowered his center of gravity, spread his arms wide, and locked his famous "death stare" onto Link.
He saw the blazing love for basketball in Link's eyes, and that fire earned his respect.
American-style one-on-one is usually about being quick and efficient, so the three-dribble limit is often the unspoken rule.
This was tough for Link. Kobe was one of the 21st century's most outstanding perimeter defenders; Link could barely even start his dribble.
After a few jab steps, Link tried to drive right, but Kobe's long arms and quick lateral movement instantly cut off the angle.
Link had to pull back and reset his dribble. On his third bounce, he took a step-back jumper from one step beyond the three-point line, forcing the shot up.
Kobe leaped up as if he had predicted it, his long arms completely covering Link's field of vision.
The result, naturally, was an airball.
It was only the first possession, and cold sweat was already beading on Link's forehead. This was the pressure of an elite defender?
Next, it was Kobe's turn. He stood at the three-point line, his eyes like fire, scrutinizing the determined rookie in front of him.
After a simple move, Kobe hit a lightning-fast crossover, switched the ball to his left hand, dropped his shoulder, and exploded off his left foot like a black bolt of lightning!
Link's eyes narrowed. He reacted almost the instant Kobe changed direction!
Thanks to his recent athletic boost, his lateral shuffle was faster than ever. He fought hard to cut off Kobe's driving lane!
"Huh?" A hint of surprise flashed in Kobe's eyes.
The young player's footwork seemed a hair quicker than it had been during the scrimmage earlier today; the sluggish delay he'd shown was slightly reduced.
Though Link was still at a disadvantage physically and stumbled when Kobe leaned into him with his powerful body, he stubbornly regained his balance, sticking tight to Kobe's side, hands raised high to disrupt the dribble and sightline.
Feeling the defensive pressure, Kobe chose not to use pure brute force. Instead, he abruptly changed his pace mid-dribble, pausing as if to gather for a jump shot.
Link took the bait, his center of gravity shifting up slightly.
In that split second, Kobe exploded again, using that tiny window of time to squeeze past Link by half a step, driving into the lane. He then jumped up and laid the ball in with a fluid, graceful touch.
But Link didn't quit. The moment Kobe gathered the ball and jumped, Link leaped too, stretching his arms out to attempt a block.
Their bodies made slight contact in the air. Kobe stabilized himself with his tremendous core strength, flicking his wrist softly.
The ball obediently found the net, effortlessly and elegantly.
Link looked messy and beaten, but Kobe was keenly aware of the rookie's change. The disruption Link created on that defensive possession was genuine!
Kobe knew best: the speed and rhythm change on that drive were enough to blow by the Link from the daytime scrimmage.
Yet this time, the rookie not only kept up with the first step but, even after being beaten, recovered quickly to jump and challenge the shot effectively.
His lateral quickness and reaction time seemed to have improved significantly since the afternoon...
Kobe couldn't help but regard Link with more respect. This young player was hardworking, smart, and maybe had a bit of talent after all.
What followed, due to the make-it, take-it rule, was an absolute massacre...
Pull-up threes, pump-fake drives, fadeaway turnarounds, reverse layups... Link was helpless against Kobe's full arsenal of moves.
Link's few offensive possessions couldn't break Kobe's lockdown defense; he either got stripped or bricked a forced shot.
20 to 0...
35 to 0...
50 to 0...
77 to 0...
The score kept ballooning. Kobe was a scoring machine, relentlessly tearing down Link's defense.
Finally, Kobe missed an ultra-long three-pointer, and the ball went back to Link.
Link stood at the three-point line, holding the ball, his heavy, gasping breaths almost making him pass out.
Kobe, on the other hand, still looked cold and unfazed, though his eyes showed a hint of impatience—he wanted to finish this lopsided match quickly.
"No... I can't give up like this..." Link took a deep breath and fiercely shook his head.
Though he often displayed the gentle humility of an Easterner, he had an inherently stubborn, never-say-die attitude.
He could be defeated, but he couldn't be broken!
No matter what, he had to score today. Even if it was just one basket. Even if he was being guarded by the peak Black Mamba!
Link gritted his teeth, his focus sharper than ever, a fierce look in his eyes.
Kobe's defense was still impenetrable. Link knew his strength and speed wouldn't gain him an inch against Kobe, so his only chance was to use rhythm.
Link faced away from Kobe at the arc, constantly using his back and hips to feel out Kobe's defensive position.
Kobe's long arms continuously tried to poke the ball away. Link responded with a hard pound dribble with his right hand, leaned in with his shoulder, pretending to spin left for a drive.
The convincing fake forced Kobe's feet to slide slightly. Link seized the moment, lowered his stance, jammed his left elbow against Kobe, and quickly drove toward the key!
Two dribbles later, Link attacked the right elbow of the free-throw line, where he was now a hair ahead of Kobe.
Using that slight advantage in position, Link pulled off the most deceptive pump fake of his life.
Kobe's center of gravity shifted, creating a precious inch of space for Link!
"Now!" Link thought.
[Focused Shooter Lv1 Activated!]
Since the start of the one-on-one, Kobe's intense defense hadn't let up; Link hadn't been able to get a clean shot off.
This was his only chance all night. Link activated the skill without hesitation, jumped up, and leaned back for the shot!
Though Kobe still contested, the ball finally flew toward the hoop on a normal trajectory.
The arc was flat, and it smashed off the front rim, bouncing high into the air.
But then, as if gently guided by the hand of fate, the ball fell back down and dropped vertically into the net!
77 to 2!
Link had painfully managed to score two points against Kobe's defense!
"Hoo..." Link bent over, gasping for breath, clutching his knees. That one possession had completely drained his energy.
Kobe, who had turned around, looked furious and incredulous, seemingly annoyed that a rookie had scored on him.
In the next few possessions, Kobe swiftly and cleanly ended the game.
Link collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving violently. He didn't have the strength to lift a single finger.
Kobe stood over him, his own jersey soaked with sweat.
He looked down at the rookie who was played to exhaustion, but who had managed to force two points out of his hands. After a moment of silence, Kobe turned and walked away, a different look in his eyes.
It was a look of encouragement, and perhaps, respect.
Only Link's heavy breathing remained in the gym.
100 to 2. He had lost, a total defeat, but Link managed to pull his lips into a difficult smile.
He scored on Kobe Bryant. He actually did it!
He had fought like hell and won a tiny, yet potentially game-changing, opportunity.