NBA: Basketball Legend.

Chapter 91: Chapter 91: Winning the Player of the Week Award for Two Consecutive Weeks, Sneaker Endorsement Plan!

Chapter 91: Winning the Player of the Week Award for Two Consecutive Weeks, Sneaker Endorsement Plan!

After taking down the Supersonics, the Suns flew back to Phoenix that same night, extending their win streak to eight straight.

Another long road trip. Another late-night flight.

Life on the road in the NBA isn’t glamorous—it’s grueling. The constant flying starts to wear you down. At the start of the season, it doesn’t hit as hard, but the deeper you go, the more your body feels it. That fatigue builds, especially for rookies. By midseason, most young players start hitting what they call the rookie wall—a physical and mental slump that’s hard to avoid.

But Chen Yan? He wasn’t worried about that.

His focus was simple: keep getting better. Keep leveling up. If that wall ever came, he’d have the power to crash through it.

With that in mind, he pulled up the system interface quietly and got to work.

A new round of stat upgrades was ready.

After three straight games, Chen Yan had racked up a solid 51 Honor Points. His biggest haul came from the Lakers game—34 points earned in one night.

He didn’t hesitate.

Chen Yan cashed in 50 Honor Points to upgrade his three-point shooting, adding +5 to the stat.

Three-point shot: [85] → [90]

It was the first skill he had ever focused on maxing, and for good reason.

Though he only averaged 2.4 attempts from deep per game, the Suns’ offensive system gave him plenty of space to take more. The only catch? He needed to be efficient. No coach wants you jacking up threes unless you’re drilling them consistently.

That’s why raising his three-point stat was non-negotiable—he needed to become a true scoring threat from beyond the arc.

With the stat now at [90], he’d officially stepped into elite shooter territory.

Then he opened his full attribute panel to take stock of where he stood:

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[Name]: Chen Yan

[Height]: 198cm

[Weight]: 93kg

[Wingspan]: 218cm

Athleticism:

Standing Vert: 98cm

Running Vert: 105cm

Speed: 92

Stamina: 90

Strength: 76

Offense:

Ball Handling: 90

Layup: 86

Mid-Range: 85

Three-Point: 90

Free Throw: 80

Passing: 85

Positioning: 90

Finishing: 88

Breakthrough: 90

Defense:

Steal: 88

Perimeter Defense: 76

Rebounding: 63

Blocks: 68

IQ and Spirit:

Court Vision: 84

Spirit: 95

Skill Set:

God-Level Steal

Answer Crossover

Magic Shadow

Hot Start (Passive)

Perfect Hand Shape (Passive)

Juggling Finish (Passive)

Passing Master Lv1

Honor Points: 1

Overall Player Grade: A+

---

While the three-point shot saw a major boost, some of his other stats had improved slightly thanks to training and consistent game action. Every bit of progress counted.

Chen Yan stared at the panel with quiet confidence.

His next target? An S-grade player rating.

He wasn’t far off.

The next morning, the NBA dropped its weekly awards announcement.

Eastern Conference Player of the Week:

Dwight Howard.

He averaged 22.8 points, 14.8 rebounds, and 2.7 blocks across four games—leading the Magic to a perfect 4-0 record.

Western Conference Player of the Week:

Chen Yan—again.

His biggest challenger for the award? None other than his own teammate: Steve Nash.

Nash had an insane week, putting up 17.5 points and 13.8 assists per game, quarterbacking the Suns to four straight wins. He was the brain of the offense, the floor general, and the heart of their team.

But the league’s final call went to Chen Yan.

David Stern had made up his mind—he wanted to support Chen Yan. And to do that right, he needed a headline-grabbing narrative.

What better gimmick than this? The first rookie in NBA history to win Player of the Week honors for two consecutive weeks right out the gate.

Of course, you gotta back it up with numbers. And Chen Yan wasn’t just strong—he was on fire. Last week, he averaged 34 points, 4.4 rebounds, and 3.9 assists per game. The award? Undisputed.

---

After wrapping up morning shootaround, Chen Yan met up with his agent, Bill Duffy.

”Chen,” Bill greeted him with a wide smile, ”you’ve been killing it lately! Keep this pace up and you’ll be a superstar in no time.”

Chen Yan gave a small nod and wiped the sweat from his neck with a towel. ”Appreciate it.”

Of course, Bill didn’t show up just to congratulate him. The real reason? Endorsements.

Chen’s rise in popularity was drawing serious attention from brands left and right. Big money was knocking.

Bill pulled out a folder and flipped it open. ”I’ve got a stack of endorsement offers. Take a look.”

Chen glanced over the list. ”Honestly? I care more about sincerity than the paycheck.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. ”And how do you define sincerity?”

Chen smirked. ”Whoever offers the biggest bag.”

Bill sighed. ”...”

He didn’t quite get Chen’s dry humor, but they worked well together. No need to overanalyze it.

By the end of the meeting, Chen had locked in three new deals: Little Raccoon Crispy Noodles, Elion Yogurt, and a collab with the online game Street Basketball.

But the real heat? Sneaker contracts.

Chen’s dominant rookie campaign had caught the attention of the big dogs—Adidas, Nike, Puma, Anta, and Li Ning were all throwing bids.

The most aggressive offers came from Adidas and Nike.

Adidas pitched a 6-year, $45 million deal—a straight-up cash contract. In sneaker terms, that meant real dollars in the bank, not just gear.

Sneaker deals in the league usually came in three tiers:

Merchandise Contracts: No money, but free gear and product credits. Players could order whatever they wanted online—good for role players and bench guys.

Cash Contracts: More than 70 guys in the league had these. They came with annual salaries, bonuses, and product perks. These were the mid-tier guys—good enough to market, not quite icons.

Signature Shoes: Reserved for the elite. Less than 20 players in the entire league had their own line.

On top of that, most players earned a 5% commission from sneaker sales.

”Between Adidas and Nike,” Bill said carefully, ”I think Nike’s offer shows more respect. They’re coming in at $55 million over 7 years—and they’re ready to launch your signature shoes next season.”

Chen Yan leaned back, unimpressed.

”Fifty-five million?” he repeated with a dry chuckle. ”That’s what they call sincerity?”

Just a few months ago, Nike gave Kevin Durant a $60 million, 7-year deal. And Chen? He was outperforming Durant in both draft status and early season numbers—and let’s not even talk about the Chinese market behind him.

This wasn’t just about money—it was about respect.

Sneaker deals weren’t small potatoes. For many NBA stars, it was the biggest piece of their income pie. And with contracts that spanned years, signing the wrong one could feel like being chained up. Chen Yan wasn’t rushing it.

Just then, the system in his mind activated.

”Hidden Task Triggered: Rise of the Shoe Brands!”

Objective: Sign with a shoe company.

Reward: Host-exclusive signature sneakers equipped with elite cushioning, support, and traction features.

Chen’s eyes lit up. A hidden mission? Hell yeah.

”Chen,” Bill added, trying to reassure him, ”we don’t need to commit now. I’ll keep negotiating—we’ll squeeze every last drop out of these deals.”

Chen shook his head. ”Actually, I’ve been thinking. I want to go with a Asian brand.”

Bill blinked. ”You mean Asian sneaker companies? You serious?”

”Dead serious.”

”Look, let’s forget the money for a second. The product can’t compete, man. Nike and Adidas are in a whole different league.”

That had been a legit concern before—but not anymore. With the system backing him, Chen had no doubts.

He didn’t just want to be another endorser. He had bigger ideas.

If the money wasn’t on Nike’s level, then cool—he’d flip the game. He’d ask for a higher cut of sales. He believed in his own marketing power.

He could build a brand studio under his name—or even push for company shares. Why not?

Nike and Adidas wouldn’t give him that. But a domestic brand just might.

Look at what Li Ning did for Wade. They handed him equity, and the move paid off for both sides.

Chen wasn’t just any player—he was the No. 2 pick, the first Asian perimeter star in the NBA.

He had the leverage. He just needed to keep showing out on the court.

And he would.

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