Basketball Soul System: I Got Westbrook's MVP Powers in Another World! Chapter 22 :Guaranteed:Two Million in Endorsements Your Firs

Ryan pushed open the door to Unit 702 and nearly collided with Jamal, who was heading out with a basketball tucked under his arm.

"Hey," Ryan said, toeing off his sneakers. "Just a heads-up—Eddie Crawford’s coming over in a bit. We’re talking about representation."

Jamal froze mid-step. "Who? Eddie? As in Marcus Bryan’s legendary agent?" At Ryan’s nod, he let out a low whistle. "Man, I saw them on TV all the ti back in the day—like they were attached at the hip."

From the couch, Kylie chid in. "I saw him in a bunch of those Marcus tribute videos, too."

Jamal turned to his sister. "Go take a walk or sothing—don’t hang around getting in the way."

Ryan chuckled. "Relax. It’s not a classified briefing."

"Screw the court, then." Jamal rolled the ball into the corner and dropped onto the couch, arms folded, wearing the expression of a man about to attend a job interview.

The three of them sat in silence, waiting. Ryan looked around at his self-appointed support crew and let out a quiet laugh.

"You guys look more nervous than I am."

Jamal opened his mouth to reply—but then ca the knock.

"I got it!" Jamal launched off the couch and yanked the door open.

A man in his forties stood in the hallway. Impeccable charcoal suit, shoes gleaming like obsidian, a leather briefcase in one hand. His other fist hovered mid-knock.

Ryan recognized him instantly—the very man from the photo Coach Crawford had just shown him: Eddie Crawford.

"Co on in, sir," Jamal said, stepping aside.

Eddie offered a warm smile and entered the apartnt, his eyes briefly scanning the room. Besides Ryan, there was a young girl seated near the window.

He glanced at Jamal, then back at her. Not uncommon for a player to have family present at a eting like this. Then again... they didn’t exactly look related. Not that it mattered—family cos in all forms.

Ryan stood and offered his hand. Eddie took it with a firm shake.

"Pleasure to et you. I’m Eddie. And I’ve got to say—last night’s performance? Incredible. Absolutely incredible."

They exchanged a few pleasantries while Jamal and Kylie quietly relocated, giving up the main couch for the two n and settling into side chairs like attentive interns.

Eddie opened his briefcase and pulled out a freshly printed docunt, the corners still slightly warm from the laser printer.

"This is a draft of the representation agreent," he said, sliding it toward Ryan. "Nothing’s locked in—we can change anything you’re not comfortable with."

Ryan flipped through the pages. It was thick—at least twenty pages—and already his head felt heavy. Eddie leaned in slightly, catching his hesitation.

"Standard stuff. Most rookies sign short-term—one or two years. This is two. Think of it as a trial run. If you’re not happy, you can walk away. No penalty. No auto-renew clauses."

Ryan shut the folder. "Keep talking."

Eddie nodded. "As for salary commissions—rookie rates are usually between one and three percent. But since you already signed your rookie deal on your own, that’s not my business. We can talk about future earnings later."

Ryan smirked. "Lucky —saved myself a few grand."

Everyone chuckled. The tension eased a little.

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Where I really add value? Endorsents. Standard cut’s ten to twenty percent. I’ll take ten." He held up two fingers. "And I guarantee you’ll make at least two million in endorsent deals your first year."

Ryan’s pulse spiked. Two million? Even after the cut, that was nearly six tis his rookie salary. The math hit him like a crossover dribble—sharp and sudden.

"Don’t look so shocked. I’m sure plenty of agents could’ve pulled this off. You beca just the sixth player ever to drop 30-plus in a single quarter last night. Sure, you’re not one of those headline rookies who had the world watching since college, but you’re firmly in the second tier now. Just the deals from major athletic brands? I’d say a three-year, five-million-dollar contract is well within reach."

Eddie’s voice dropped. "But I’m the only one who’ll get the Iron City Daily sports editor on the phone at 3 a.m." A wink. "Most dia here? Old friends. I’ll get you coverage—or kill a story if it turns ugly. Unless you... you pull sothing really stupid."

Ryan said casually, "Like getting drunk and starting a fight? Lighting up sothing... herbal?"

Eddie shrugged. "Probably worse."

Another ripple of laughter.

Then Eddie stilled, his tone shifting. "Truth is, my biggest advantage?" He locked eyes with Ryan. "Right now, you’d be my only client. I’m all in, on you."

For a mont, the room fell silent. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space.

Ryan went back to the draft, flipping a few pages, then nodded slowly.

"I’ll give it a proper read tonight. If I’m good with it, we can sign tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Eddie said, eyes lighting up. "You give the green light, I’ll draw up the final version. And if anything feels off—I’ll change it, no questions asked."

Ryan suddenly lifted his head, sothing clicking in his mind.

"Actually... I’ve got one small favor to ask."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Let’s hear it."

Ryan jerked his chin toward Jamal in the corner. "My boy here wants to be an agent. Take him on as your assistant? Let him learn the ropes."

Jamal’s head snapped up, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He hadn’t seen this coming.

Eddie didn’t even pause. "Done."

He shrugged. "I could use the help anyway, getting things rolling again. But let’s be clear—coffee runs, grunt work, twenty bucks an hour."

"Deal!" Jamal blurted, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

***********

P/S:

The collection count just passed 100—thank you all so much for your support!

Let share a bit about this novel: it’s a basketball story built on precision and professionalism, from skills and training to tactics and full ga sequences. But I won’t be writing ten Chapters for every single match, then jumping straight into the next one, repeating that for an entire season. That’s not the kind of story I want to tell.

What I aim to present is more than just the ga itself. Off the court, there will be stories about friendships, teammates, agents, endorsents—and maybe even a touch of romance. I want to show you a more grounded, realistic journey of a basketball player.

Thanks again for stepping into my world of basketball.