"Thud!"
"Swish!"
The sounds of the game cut sharply through the deafening jeers filling the Pepsi Center.
Link landed awkwardly after a tough banked layup, stumbling back a couple of steps to regain his balance.
He didn't complain. He just scrambled back on defense.
His ears were ringing with the roar of the Denver crowd and scattered insults hurled from the courtside seats.
"He does it again! Link !" Kenny Smith shouted over the broadcast. "Five minutes left in the fourth, and the Lakers push the lead to nine!"
"Link 's finishing around the rim is getting automatic," Kenny added. "The kid is on fire."
"That's 17 points for Link tonight," Charles Barkley said, glancing at the stat sheet in front of him.
"For the series, this rookie is averaging 16.3 points and shooting over 41% from deep. And he's started every game." Barkley shook his head in disbelief. "For a guy who started on a 10-day contract? That is phenomenal."
---
Pepsi Center, Denver. Home of the Nuggets.
Game 6 of the Series.
The Lakers led 3-2. They held match point.
One more win, and they would eliminate the Nuggets and advance to the Western Conference Semifinals.
But the city of Denver wasn't ready to go on vacation.
From the opening tip, the atmosphere had been hostile.
Chants of "Beat LA!" echoed constantly. Every time a Laker touched the ball, the boos threatened to blow the roof off the arena.
Carmelo Anthony bullied his way past Lamar Odom for a hard layup.
He landed and screamed in Odom's face.
"Carmelo does not want to go fishing yet," Smith noted. "But the problem is..."
"...Kobe Bryant has 31 points tonight!" Barkley finished the thought. "The superstar is averaging 37.2 points for the series! nobody on this Nuggets roster can check him!"
That was the story of the series in a nutshell.
Kobe was putting on an offensive clinic, bordering on cruelty.
The Nuggets tried double-teaming him. They tried throwing fresh bodies at him in waves. But Kobe always found a way to score.
And Link 's consistent production provided the critical floor spacing the Lakers needed.
---
Lakers ball. Kobe brought it up the court.
He was deliberately controlling the tempo. His left knee was clearly bothering him, taking some of the explosiveness out of his drive, but his jump shot was still scorching hot.
He called for a screen from Bynum at the top of the key. The Nuggets switched, leaving Marcus Camby on an island.
A simple crossover, a step-back... Mid-range jumper.
Cash.
"Kobe Bryant! The mid-range master!" Smith's voice was full of respect. "The Nuggets need a miracle right now."
On the other end, the Nuggets bricked another shot.
3 minutes and 22 seconds left. Lakers up by 9.
Time was running out for Denver.
Kobe dribbled at the top of the key, bleeding the clock.
The Nuggets applied full-court pressure, refusing to give an inch.
Kobe struggled to pass out of the double team.
5 seconds on the shot clock. The ball was swung desperately to Link .
Link caught it on the right wing, 45-degree angle. Andre Miller was draped all over him.
No time for a play. No time for a screen.
Link dropped his hips, hit a quick jab step.
gathered, and pulled up.
Miller leaped, his hand practically inside Link 's eye socket.
But Link didn't hesitate.
[Sharpshooter Lv3] locked in. The passive effect kept his form perfect, even under suffocating pressure.
The ball traced a high, beautiful arc through the air.
"Swish!"
Nothing but net!
100 - 88! The lead ballooned to 12.
"Huge three! The Prophet strikes again!" Smith roared. "That might be the dagger!"
Link turned to the courtside crowd and pressed a finger to his lips. Shhh.
The deafening noise in the Pepsi Center died instantly.
On the Denver bench, Coach George Karl's face turned a shade of purple. He signaled for a timeout.
The Lakers' bench, however, was going wild.
Kobe walked over and high-fived Link , slapping him hard on the back.
---
Timeout.
"Two minutes," Phil Jackson said, his voice as calm as a Zen master's.
"Slow it down. Control the clock. Defense first. Do not give them any fast-break opportunities."
The whistle blew. Play resumed.
The Nuggets couldn't mount a real counterattack.
The lead hovered comfortably around 10 points.
Denver tried the foul game to stop the clock, but Kobe was automatic from the free-throw line.
35 seconds left.
105 - 96.
Lakers by 9.
George Karl waved the white flag. He subbed out all his starters.
After the bench warmers played out two symbolic possessions...
Buzzer.
The series was over. Lakers win 4-2.
Ticket punched to the Western Conference Semifinals.
A massive wave of disappointment washed over the Pepsi Center.
The Nuggets players walked toward the tunnel, heads down.
Carmelo Anthony hugged Kobe, his face twisted with frustration. Kobe patted the young star on the back, whispering a few words of advice.
Melo didn't know it yet, but Kobe and the Lakers would become the mountain he could never quite climb. Until the day he left Denver, he would never get past them.
The Lakers gathered at center court, hugging and celebrating.
Winning on the road to close out a series tasted just a little bit sweeter.
Kobe found Link again and dapped him up.
No words were needed. Link had been his best lieutenant in this war.
---
Back at the TNT booth, Barkley was wrapping up.
"Congratulations to the Los Angeles Lakers. Kobe Bryant was unsolved in this series, but we have to give it up for Link . He was the biggest surprise—the X-factor."
"Absolutely," Smith agreed. "It proves their strategy at the end of the season worked. Fighting for seeding to avoid the Suns and matchup with the Nuggets? It paid off."
"And now," Barkley grinned, "they get the Dallas Mavericks in round two."
---
The locker room was way louder than the court had been.
Players were dancing, yelling, hyping each other up.
Even Kobe allowed himself a rare, relaxed smile.
Before the season, the media said the Lakers might not even make the playoffs.
Now? They were in. They had upset the Nuggets. They had slapped the critics in the face.
The exhaustion of the series was temporarily washed away by the adrenaline of victory. They had survived Round 1.
Link watched his teammates celebrating, and it still felt a little dreamlike.
A few months ago, he was in a tiny, cramped apartment, grinding for a 10-day contract.
Now, everything was different.
After the game, Kobe was surrounded by a wall of reporters. He sat in his locker, knees wrapped in thick ice packs, answering questions with a relaxed grin. Winning made him a lot friendlier.
Link finally checked his phone.
Top of the list: A dozen frantic texts from Andrew.
"We advanced! Bro! The brand reps just contacted me. We need to talk details as soon as you land in LA!"
"Oh, and heads up—there's a crowd of Lakers fans gathering outside your apartment building. Be prepared when you get home, don't get mobbed!"
Link scrolled down. His finger paused on a message from Isabella.
She had sent a photo. It looked like it was taken during a break at a high-end fashion party.
In the picture, she was raising a glass of champagne to the camera. The caption read:
"A toast to the Prophet's victory. Even the lights of New York are shining for you tonight."
Link stared at the photo for a few seconds, then typed a simple reply: "Thanks. Hope everything is going well with you."
He tossed the phone in his locker and leaned back, finally letting his muscles relax.
The challenge wasn't over yet. But for tonight? He could enjoy this.