We were walking out of the locker room.
We started warming up.
-POV Commentator
"And Franklin Lincoln is back in the Magic rotation tonight." one announcer said, voice lively over the broadcast.
"Yeah Pres is back, after missing two games for the birth of his first child, congratulations to him." the other added.
-POV Franklin
While everyone was still warming up, I saw Kobe near the sideline. He was already locked in like always. I walked over, dapped him up, and we started talking.
"So." he said "I think this might be my last season, Franklin."
I looked at him for a second. "Yeah? I get it. You've done it all, man. Still… that's gotta be tough. Walking away from this."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah… it is. But hey, speaking of legacy, ever thought about coming to the Lakers?"
I laughed. "Man, you know I gotta stay here. Got things I wanna build. Plus… between us, I don't even like y'all like that."
We both cracked up.
I added, "If I ever did move, though? It'd be somewhere like New York… maybe Toronto. San Francisco too, I mess with that city. But I don't know… still feels like this is home right now."
He nodded again. "I see. Just had to ask."
"You should think about..." I said, glancing over toward the Lakers' bench. "Maybe give the keys to Julius Randle, Aaron Gordon or Jordan Clarkson. Guide them a little. Show them."
He nodded, slowly, thoughtful. "Might be right about that." he said. "They got potential."
I gave him a slight nod. "That's what they need. Someone like you to show them how to do stuff."
"Maybe." he said again, almost to himself. Then he looked back at me. "Appreciate you, Franklin. You got a good head on you."
Before I could respond, the buzzer sounded, warmups were done, game about to tip off.
We dapped up once more.
"Let's get to it." I said.
"Let's ball." he replied.
Then we both walked to our sides of the court.
Tip-off happened. Vucevic got a hand on it but it bounced to Clarkson, Lakers ball.
They came out moving fast. Clarkson pushed it up, dished it to Julius Randle on the elbow. He faked a hand-off to Kobe, drove hard left and laid it in off the glass. 2–0 Lakers.
I got the inbound from D-Rose and walked it up.
"Let's run Horns Twist." I called out, motioning to the wings.
Vooch came to set the screen, I drove off it, saw the hedge coming, skipped it to the weak side. Tobias caught it in rhythm — cash. 3–2 us.
Next possession, Kobe got it.
You could tell he wanted to feel it out. He jabbed, then pulled up midrange.
Bucket.
I came back down with a little more heat in my chest.
Aaron switched onto me, mistake.
I danced with him, crossed left to right, snatched it back, stepback from the wing.
"Easy."
Bench jumped. I jogged back, pointing at the floor. "This my spot."
Midway through the first, we were up 18–13. D-Rose was cooking too, blowing by defenders.
But Lakers didn't go away. Kobe started heating up, fadeaways, pump fakes, hitting tough shots over contest. Vintage Mamba.
"You ain't slowing down huh?" I told him after one of his makes.
He smirked. "You either, apparently."
By halftime it was tight, 53–49 us. I had 17, Kobe had 16. It was a duel.
Third quarter, I turned it up.
Came off a double stagger, caught it on the move, hit a corner three with Randle flying at me. Crowd popped. I turned to their bench.
"Y'all better tighten up!"
Later, got a steal off Kobe, pushed it full speed, lobbed it up to Aaron Gordon in transition. Windmill.
Fourth quarter, we started pulling away. Defense tightened, Kobe was starting to gas a little, and our bench outplayed theirs.
Final score: 108–96 Orlando.
I finished with 34 points, 8 assists, 5 rebounds. Kobe had 27.
After the game, I stayed out on the court a little longer.
Kobe walked over.
Then we swapped jerseys.
"Keep killin' it." he said, handing me his number 24.
"You already know." I replied, giving him my number 7. "Appreciate you, for everything."
Vanessa came over with their daughters. I greeted them with a warm smile.
"Beautiful family, man." I told him, looking at Gianna. She gave me a shy wave.
"She's already asking for a hoop in her room." Kobe chuckled.
We talked a bit more, just some light stuff. Family, the league, life after basketball. That type of talk.
After they left the floor, I took a detour before hitting the tunnel.
Walked over to the edge of the court, where a group of fans was pressed up against the railing.A few had my jersey on. One held up my FL1s, the new colorway I just dropped.
I signed everything, shoes, hats, programs. Took pictures, cracked a few jokes. One kid was shaking so bad he almost dropped his phone.
"You good, bro?" I laughed, signing his poster. He nodded fast, eyes wide.
"You're my favorite player." he said.
"That mean a lot, for real." I told him. "Maybe I'll see you here one day on this court."
Once the rush calmed down, I jogged back into the tunnel, sweat towel over my shoulder.
Hit the locker room, showered quick, threw on my fit, and dipped.
Seat back, music low, I drove home.
Later...
When I got home, I dropped my bag near the front door, kicked off my sneakers, and made my way down the hallway. The house was quiet.
A soft glow from the TV spilled out of one of the bedrooms. I nudged the door open gently.
Parker was curled up on the bed, a blanket draped over her legs. She was watching something, but her eyes kept drifting to the small crib next to her.
There he was, Dean Polo Franklin Lincoln, asleep.
"Hey." I whispered as I stepped in.
Parker looked over, offering a tired smile. "Hey. Good game tonight."
"Thanks."
I crouched beside the crib, resting my elbows on my knees. Dean was knocked out, little fists closed up tight.
"He been good?" I asked quietly.
"Barely fussed at all."
We started talking.
"Yeah. We talked a little too. Man asked if I'd consider coming to the Lakers." I tell her.
She raised an eyebrow. "And what'd you say?"
"I told him I hated the Lakers."
She burst out laughing, trying not to make too much noise.