GRANDMAESTA_30
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Chapter 271: The Mamba Pitch
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 13:48:34 +0000 UTCKobe Bryant calling at this hour?
Lin Yi blinked. Wait—could this be about waking up to watch the sunrise at 4 AM again?
But hold on… New York and L.A. don’t even share the same sunrise time, do they?
He took a little time to think to himself. After all, this was Kobe Bryant—the Black Mamba calling.
The number of times Kobe had ever called him directly could be counted on one hand. Usually, it was a quick text or Lin Yi calling him first.
He answered.
“Hey, Lin!”
“Hi, Kobe!”
Lin touched his chin. Man… why does this sound like the opening to a mixtape?
Kobe chuckled. “Still up? Good. I’ve got something to run by you.”
“Yeah, I’m awake. What’s up?” Lin answered casually.
First came the expected stuff. As a veteran, Kobe congratulated Lin on the insane stat line. A 60-point triple-double was no joke—even Kobe had to admit it was wild.
Then came a little advice.
“Keep shooting. You’re the guy in New York now. Don’t let the media shake your confidence—carry that team.”
Lin nodded. He liked to facilitate, but he felt that the more he shot, the more people seemed to enjoy it. And… he knew better than to challenge Kobe on shot selection. No need to die on that hill tonight.
But this wasn’t just a check-in. Kobe had called for something else.
“Lin,” Kobe said. “I got project called BodyArmor cooking.”
Lin’s eyes lit up.
As a seasoned Kobe fan, of course, he had. This was no ordinary drink deal.
Kobe explained: two guys—Lance Collins and Mike Repole—were launching a new sports drink brand and had approached him. They wanted him involved, not just as a face, but as a stakeholder.
“They’re offering me 30%,” Kobe said. “I’m bringing on a couple of partners. You interested?”
Lin Yi nearly sat upright. Interested? Bro, say less!
He wasn’t just an NBA player—he had a front-row seat to the business side of sports, too. BodyArmor was just a startup now, sure, but Lin remembered from the future: by 2018, it’d become the #3 sports drink in the U.S., riding a rocket past Gatorade’s heels and into Coca-Cola’s portfolio.
The timing in this timeline was off, though. Butterfly effect, he thought. Maybe my presence accelerated things?
Didn’t matter. It was an opportunity too good to pass up. And honestly? Lin was tired of Gatorade anyway. Their sponsorship deal with him had been stingy—typical monopolist attitude.
So when Kobe asked—
“You in?”
Lin smiled. “Of course. Let’s do it.”
Kobe sounded relieved. “Good. Shaq’s in too.”
Shaq? That made sense. Despite their rocky past, the two always found their way back to each other.
It wasn’t just about the money, either. Kobe explained that BodyArmor was still scraping together capital. Even $14 million was a big ask at this stage, especially for athletes whose careers came with financial ticking clocks.
“It’s risk-sharing,” Kobe admitted. “I believe in it. But I’m not gonna carry it alone.”
Lin understood. Even if Kobe was a legend, most players weren’t Warren Buffett. Spreading the risk made sense. He appreciated Kobe being upfront.
And truthfully? Kobe also just liked Lin. The kid never hid the fact that he was a Mamba fan. He always mentioned Kobe in interviews, always backed him up. Lin’s loyalty, plus his superstar momentum, made him the perfect partner.
And Kobe? He loved the fact that Lin’s triple-double had probably ruined O’Neal’s night. That made him smile.
“You know,” Kobe said, “I'm sure Shaq’s salty right now.”
Lin laughed. “The big guy’s gonna be livid.”
Honestly, the whole Kobe–Shaq saga felt like a TV drama. Lin thought someone should turn it into a show. Young lovers turned business rivals… fighting, falling out, finding new teammates, then reconciling years later. It's NBA telenovela material.
Back to the moment, though—Lin gave Kobe a verbal yes on BodyArmor.
With their combined star power, it was bound to explode.
Especially now. Kobe had just gone back-to-back with the Lakers, and Lin Yi was on top of the NBA world. Fans loved them. Brands wanted them. BodyArmor had just landed two heavyweights.
Kobe said, “Alright. I’ll have the paperwork sent over soon.”
“Looking forward to it.”
As the call was winding down, Kobe threw in a surprise.
“Oh—and do me a favor. Say hi to Shaq for me.”
“…Huh?”
Lin Yi stared at his phone like it had just cursed at him.
Say hi to Shaq?
But even Lin knew what was happening. Bryant was softening. Age, injuries, and the grind of the game had changed him. The fire was still there, but the walls were starting to come down.
Injuries slowed him. Regret began to surface.
He realized that maybe—just maybe—he had been too stubborn. And O’Neal? For all his loudness, he missed the brotherhood too.
Lin had seen a clip once. O’Neal, in an interview, told Kobe:
“Hey man, drop 50 in your last game.”
Kobe had laughed and said he couldn’t.
And then he dropped 60.
Lin remembered seeing Shaq courtside that night. Shaking his head. Not in disbelief at the score, but at Kobe’s heart. The guy just wouldn’t quit.
Years later, Shaq admitted it: he owed something to Kobe. A piece of respect he never gave while they were at war.
As for Kobe? He came to understand that some battles weren’t worth winning.
Maybe if they’d both met later in life, things could’ve been different.
But basketball doesn’t deal in what-ifs.
The NBA moves forward.
Just like Lin Yi would—with Kobe as a partner, and maybe, just maybe, a bridge between two giants.
