In January, Tuscaloosa's mild breeze and lazy sunlight created a laid-back, Southern atmosphere. At the University of Alabama, students went about their day as usual, though the Crimson Tide's championship fervor from the previous night still echoed throughout campus, with remnants of parties visible everywhere.
Donald Yee, however, remained completely focused on Lance, undistracted by the bustling scene around them.
After watching the game last night, Donald had identified something special in Lance—a unique quality he had been yearning to find.
It convinced Donald that he had to sign Lance at any cost.
But precisely because of that desire and urgency, he needed to stay calm, steady, and rational; he knew Lance wasn't someone who could be easily swayed—
And Donald liked that about him. He appreciated athletes who used their brains as well as their brawn.
Donald met Lance's gaze with a smile.
"I'd tell you, Lance, you're making a mistake."
"You should choose me."
Donald spoke calmly, noting the hint of amusement in Lance's eyes but unfazed.
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"Because I believe in you. I believe in your uniqueness."
"Do you know why I'm not anxious or concerned?"
"Because I know how rational and sharp you are. Even now, as we're talking, you haven't lost your head. You know exactly what's happening and can analyze it coolly."
Lance was surprised. Not even Saban or Burns had shown this level of trust. They'd always treated him as a kid—
It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; Saban, Burns, and his parents all had his best interests at heart. But they hadn't truly seen the deeper changes in his spirit.
But Donald did.
A smile tugged at the corners of Lance's mouth, and he joked, "Should I be flattered or worried about a stalker?"
Donald caught on instantly, allowing himself a rare smile. "Don't worry. I've just rewatched the Peach Bowl and last night's game ten times. Only the highlights."
So that was it.
Donald continued,
"Lance, I don't want to talk to you about contracts or money. Trust me, you'll make more than you can imagine—enough to break the pay cap for running backs until those numbers are just numbers, and the extra zeroes don't even register."
"The truth is, money can buy almost anything, but it can't buy immortality. That's something you'll have to earn yourself."
It was unexpected.
Lance admitted he hadn't anticipated this.
Donald gestured for Lance to join him on a bench nearby, his measured approach showcasing his composure, confidence, and calm.
Then, Donald looked directly into Lance's eyes, his voice lowering, his entire posture exuding certainty, a flickering belief radiating within him.
"Now, I'll look you in the eye and tell you what's coming."
"You're a rookie who, until last April's spring training, had never played football. But in one short year, you've stunned everyone."
"You're going to win the Heisman Trophy, you'll enter the NFL draft, you'll win a Super Bowl, and you'll dazzle the entire world."
"Not just America or China—the whole world loves stories like this and will go wild for yours."
"People will elevate you to godhood. And believe me, they absolutely will."
Donald's voice trembled slightly as his emotions, suppressed yet intense, escaped through his lips, his eyes, his clenched fists, and showed traces of fervor.
"When you're at your peak, you'll be the brightest light on the field. We'll love you, worship you, bow to you."
"You're a rookie, you're Chinese-American, you're an outsider, a miracle never seen on the football field before. We'll turn you into a god that doesn't exist in reality, like Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Diego Maradona, Roger Federer. And you'll change the world forever."
He paused.
"But do you know?"
"After the world lifts you onto a pedestal, they'll try to tear you down. This is the most predictable pattern—people love building gods and love tearing them down even more."
"We'll mold you into a figure who's never existed before, which means you'll have to constantly meet our expectations, constantly be who we want you to be, constantly embody the perfect image the media and fans expect."
"Every minute, every day, month after month, year after year, relentlessly."
"But."
"As soon as you show the slightest flaw, as soon as you fall short of our expectations, even just a little, you'll be attacked, betrayed, slandered, humiliated, and crushed. All that energy will avalanche against you to obliterate your existence."
"You'll face it all."
"Countless people climb the mountain of fame, but it's the descent that destroys them. It's the hardships, obstacles, and loneliness when they're finally alone. That's the true test."
"There's an old saying—'One general's victory is built on a thousand bones.'"
"Countless nameless ones lay broken along the descent into obscurity. But the question is—what will you do?"
"Will you find the courage to fight, overcome, and climb back up?"
"'Who are you, Lance?' That is the question that will define your life."
"And I think you already know the answer. That's why I'm here. Last night's championship game—you answered it with your performance, giving me faith and certainty."
Donald took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he looked directly at Lance.
"Lance, I am nothing."
"To put it plainly, I'm just a broker—a regular person whose value lies in standing by your side."
"Whether it's me or other agents, we're nobodies. We need you to give our lives meaning, to let us touch greatness."
"Let me tell you, those agents selling the same promises—they're no different from me. In death, we'll all be forgotten. But you won't be."
"You'll be remembered because there are things that are eternal. You're Lance, and your story will inspire us to fight and chase our dreams."
"Not just Clarke, not just Jacobs, but every ordinary person."
"Now, Lance, I'm extending an invitation. Let me be the one standing behind greatness, the one who journeys with you through this."
A hum filled the air.
In the golden January sunlight of Alabama, warm rays touched his skin, but Lance could feel the glow burning in his veins.
Then.
Lance looked at Donald, his words calm yet resilient. He extended his right hand, his smile widening.
"Looking forward to it, Mr. Agent."
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Powerstones?
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