Is Steve Nash Still Alive?

After Xu Ling declared for the 2007 NBA draft, his phone began getting bombarded by agents. Even a few little-known agents tried their luck, but Xu Ling's choice was grounded in reason. First, he turned down Arn Tellem, who had a big reputation but questionable maneuvering capability; next, he politely declined Bill Duffy. Although Duffy's background as Yao Ming's agent was undeniably attractive, choosing him on that basis alone felt far too hasty. In the end, Xu Ling chose Leon Rose as his agent. Rose's pitch was not much different from the others. What ultimately made Xu Ling sign with him was that the two hit it off when they met in person. Rose looked like the chubby, goofy white guy straight out of a comedy, his smile even carrying a hint of naive honesty. In reality, he was one of the shrewdest and most powerful agents in the NBA. His client roster featured marquee names like Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh, Carmelo Anthony, Chris Paul, Allen Iverson, and LeBron James. After signing, Rose's first piece of advice to Xu Ling was to assemble his own inner circle—not just a personal assistant, but ideally a financial advisor as well. "I've seen far too many NBA players go broke at lightning speed after retiring," Rose said. "They all think they're going to play until they're sixty and pull in eight figures a year. In reality, most of them are out of a job by thirty, yet that lavish lifestyle never stops. It completely destroys their lives." As his agent, Rose would handle Xu Ling's contracts, commercial endorsements, and marketing, and if necessary, he could also arrange people to look after Xu Ling's day-to-day needs. Still, Xu Ling decided to manage those arrangements himself. He had no desire to let strangers handle his private life, and the first people who came to mind were those already around him. Consequently, the choice of personal assistant was settled very quickly—and on the surface, appeared rather "hasty." One day, Xu Ling asked his roommate, Roderick Craig, whose congenital heart condition precluded any professional basketball career: "Rod, would you be interested in being my personal assistant?" Craig countered, "Haven't I been playing that role all along?" Xu Ling laughed. "I mean stepping away from the team, maybe even taking a break from school, and working as my full-time assistant." Craig asked for a day to think it over, but in truth, it took him only ten minutes to make up his mind. As the son of an NFL star, he might look rough and unrefined, but he knew exactly what choices worked to his best advantage. From that day forward, he officially joined Xu Ling's team. Texas Tech thus had another player leaving the program after his freshman year. During this time, Bob Knight also phoned Xu Ling to say he had plenty of friends across the NBA, and that if Xu Ling ever needed anything, he could reach out at any time. Though Xu Ling had played under Knight for only a single year, he had used that magnificent season to earn something usually reserved only for players who stayed until graduation—the coach's friendship. From the day he left the team, Knight would be his friend, a friend for life. Whenever he needed help, he could call Knight. Xu Ling naturally thanked him and promised he would call if the need arose. After that, all that was left to do was wait—or so Xu Ling thought. The NBA draft lottery would take place on May 31, nearly a full month away. During this stretch, he could use the school's facilities to maintain his workouts, keep in touch with his agent, and catch some NBA playoff action along the way. Rose, however, clearly had no intention of letting Xu Ling kick back in comfort. Moreover, Xu Ling had indeed underestimated his own commercial value. Although the NBA draft was still some time away, as one of the "Big Three" who had utterly upended the draft landscape, he was virtually locked into the top five, with an overwhelming likelihood of going in the top three. Combined with his Chinese background and status as a perimeter player, sneaker companies could clearly see the colossal business potential lurking behind his game. While Yao Ming had achieved immense success in the NBA, the old industry adage that "big men don't sell shoes" had proven true in his case as well. Otherwise, Nike would never have tried to squeeze him on price once his initial shoe deal expired, allowing Reebok to swoop in. The players who truly resonated with fans—the ones who made consumers feel, *If I wear his shoes, maybe I can play like him*—were always perimeter stars. The first to bombard Xu Ling with cash was China's premier athletic brand, Li-Ning. As the only domestic sportswear company with global financial muscle, Li-Ning came in with a remarkably generous offer: four years, fifty million dollars. The first time he heard that number, Xu Ling's chest tightened. Fifty million dollars sounded like a fairy tale. But on second thought, he would probably be seeing all kinds of astronomical figures over the coming months, so there was no need to make a fuss. The offer itself was not outrageous; it largely aligned with how the outside world valued his current prospects. Though some questioned his ability to translate his talent to the NBA, his performance on the NCAA stage and draft status alongside Oden and Durant meant a perimeter player with his ideal physical profile was worth every penny of that price tag. Xu Ling sought Leon Rose's opinion on the matter. Rose felt there was no reason to rush. As good as Li-Ning's offer was, their footprint in the NBA was limited, and other companies were bound to submit competing bids. For now, the goal was to hype this offer and draw other sneaker giants into the sweepstakes. Xu Ling had no objections. When it came to the free market, he was more than happy to let Hayek do the talking. A few quiet days followed before Rose used his connections to arrange an exclusive interview for Xu Ling with *Sports Illustrated* columnist Grant Wahl. During March Madness, Xu Ling had landed on the cover of *Sports Illustrated* for the first time after toppling Oden. After leading his team to the national title, he and his teammates graced the cover of the magazine's second April issue. The public response had been overwhelming. Fans everywhere, particularly in Texas, craved more insight into Xu Ling. Did his mysterious background, icy demeanor, nonchalance toward fans, and meteoric rise to legendary status not deserve deeper coverage? Wahl secured the assignment, and after connecting with Rose—who was eager to maintain Xu Ling's pre-draft momentum—both sides found themselves in perfect alignment. On the day of the interview, Xu Ling first had to shoot the cover photo. The photographer asked him to dress in casual streetwear, spin a basketball on his index finger, and wear a black cap adorned with a question mark. As the interview began, Wahl noticed Xu Ling taking his coffee without sugar. He remarked, "You drink your coffee without sugar? That fits the 'cold-blooded assassin' image you have on the court." "Not at all," Xu Ling answered with a smile. "I just don't want to see a headline in your article saying, 'Eli Addicted to Sweets; NBA Future in Jeopardy.'" Wahl burst out laughing. It was a great start. A lively conversation unfolded. At one point, Wahl brought up Xu Ling's surprising decision to turn down Bill Duffy as his agent. After all, Duffy had a proven track record representing Chinese players and seemed, by all accounts, the ideal choice. "Here's what happened," Xu Ling said. "Bill told me, 'I can make you the next Yao Ming.' And I told him, 'I prefer playing face-up.'" Listening to Xu Ling's explanation, Wahl couldn't help saying, "That is certainly a refreshing way to end negotiations." As the interview neared its conclusion, the atmosphere subtly shifted. "One last question, Eli." Wahl's gaze turned earnest. "You've already become an indelible part of NCAA history, and very soon, the doors of the NBA will open to you. You've sent fans worldwide into a frenzy, and sneaker companies are practically clamoring for you. In under six months, you went from an unknown name to the center of the basketball world. Is there any secret behind all of this? Or rather, is there anything you want to say to the fans who look up to you as their idol?" Xu Ling did not answer right away. He took a sip of his unsweetened black coffee. His gaze peered past the cup, as if pondering a profound philosophical question. A moment later, Xu Ling set the cup down and looked straight into Wahl's eyes. "A secret?" he asked in return, his voice carrying a distinct, compelling calmness. "My secret is that I've never believed in secrets. I'm just being myself. As for words for the fans... none. I'm not going to sit here and tell them how the world works. I'm probably not even as smart as many of them, and that's not my responsibility." Wahl smiled and asked, "Then what is your responsibility?" "For that question, I suggest you ask the Florida fans. They spent an entire game witnessing my 'responsibility' with their own eyes." When the interview concluded, Xu Ling left alone. Later that day, Wahl spotted him by the edge of the practice court—alone, silently running through catch-and-shoot drills over and over again. He was a peculiar individual. He wasn't arrogant, nor was he combative. Yet in a somewhat paradoxical way, he was by no means warm or approachable. Sitting across from him during an interview never felt uncomfortable. When answering ordinary questions, you could even catch flashes of dry humor in his words. But the moment the topic pivoted to basketball, he seemed to transform entirely. A cold, focused, almost razor-sharp detachment emerged without a sound, walling him off from everything around him. Wahl thought of Larry Bird, but Xu Ling lacked Bird's overt edge and biting mockery; He thought of Charles Barkley, but Xu Ling didn't share Barkley's boisterous antics and colorful, checkered reputation; He wasn't Gary Payton, wasn't Kevin Garnett, wasn't Kobe Bryant, and certainly wasn't the so-called "College Jordan" he had once jokingly claimed to be. He was something else entirely. Perhaps he was precisely the archetype of player that had never truly existed in the long history of the NBA. A unique personality, an extraordinary presence. Could the NBA over the next decade become vastly more captivating because of his arrival? Grant Wahl couldn't say for sure, but the draft of his article had already taken shape in his mind, and an overwhelming urge to write surged through him. *** That evening, Xu Ling was watching Game 4 of the Western Conference Semifinals between the Spurs and the Suns with his Red Raiders teammates. Just as the game reached the climactic moments of the fourth quarter, Rose called again. Xu Ling had no choice but to step aside and answer. "How did the interview with Grant go?" "Pretty good. He's a nice guy." "Must be pretty bored lately, huh?" "A little," Xu Ling said, glancing at the TV. "Bored enough to actually watch a game." On the other end of the line, Rose chuckled. "Don't worry, you won't be bored for long. I'm calling to let you know that LeBron James really likes your game, and he wants to set up a meeting with you." Right at that exact second, Xu Ling saw Steve Nash on the screen bringing the ball across half-court in the final twenty seconds, only for the Spurs' Robert Horry to hip-check him violently into the scorer's table. "*What the—?!*" "Don't be nervous," Rose said. "LeBron's a good guy. He's young too, and there's nothing he likes more than connecting with promising young talent like you." "I'm not nervous..." "Then it's settled?" "Go ahead and set it up." By now, any mystique surrounding these once-lofty NBA stars had long since faded for Xu Ling. It was just a meeting; before long, they'd probably be going at each other's throats on the hardwood anyway. Besides, Xu Ling's attention was fully consumed by something else. He hurried back toward the television and asked, "How is he? Is Steve Nash still alive?"