NBA: Road to glory

The preseason was in full swing. I had been locked in, focused on getting the team ready for another championship run. The practices were intense, the matchups physical, but that was just how I liked it. I wasn't here to coast.

For the past months, Puma and I had been working on my first signature shoe. Every detail, from the design to the colorways, had my fingerprints all over it. 

And now, it was official. The commercial we shot a few weeks back had just dropped, and social media was on fire.

The ad was cinematic. It started with old footage of me as a kid playing on a cracked concrete court in New York, the sound of a bouncing ball echoing between buildings. A narrator spoke over the visuals.

"They call him the President of basketball."

It cut to highlights of my first two seasons. Then, a shot of me walking into the arena, lacing up my new kicks. The music built up, the beat dropped, and the screen flashed:

"THE FL1's. A NEW ERA BEGINS."

Then, the final shot—me throwing down a vicious East bay, landing, staring into the camera as the lights cut.

End scene.

I was in the car on my way home from practice when I pulled out my phone and checked Twitter.

Fans were hyped. The sneaker community was hyped. 

By the time I got home, it was already late. I pushed open the front door, kicked off my sneakers.

After the long day, I needed to unwind a little. 

So, I did what any normal guy would do—I hopped on the PlayStation.

I loaded up the party chat and saw the boys already online.

Odell: "Finally, took you long enough."

Me: "You talk like I wasn't out here working all day."

Odell: "Oh?"

Kyrie: "Y'all run the game already."

We ran a few matches—2K, Madden, even a little Dragon ball Xenoverse. The trash talk was non-stop, but that was part of the fun. Every time someone got cooked, the party chat exploded.

While we were playing, I could smell something fire cooking up in the kitchen. My personal chef was doing his thing, and I already knew tonight's meal was about to be next level.

The night before the 2015-2016 regular season opener...

I was in my private gym. Then, in the middle of my shooting drills, my phone buzzed on the bench. I ignored it at first—nothing was stopping this session—but after a few more shots, I took a quick break and checked.

Kendall Jenner.

Exhaling as I grabbed the towel draped over the bench. Hadn't heard from her in a minute.

Me: "Yo, Kendall. Long time."

Kendall: "Franklin. Still too busy?"

Me: "You caught me in the gym. What's up?" Sitting down on the bench.

Kendall: "Of course you're in the gym."

Me: "You know me."

Kendall: "I do. That's why I wanted to check in before you get completely locked in for the season. I'm coming to Florida soon."

I raised an eyebrow, grabbing my water bottle.

Me: "Oh yeah? What's the occasion?"

Kendall: "Got a swimsuit campaign shoot out there. Thought I'd let you know… in case you're around."

I could hear the playfulness in her voice. She wasn't just giving me a heads-up. She was testing the waters.

Me: "Florida's big. You talking Miami, Tampa, or…?"

Kendall: "Mm, I could be persuaded to make a stop in Orlando."

I leaned forward, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

Me: "That right?"

Kendall: "Mm-hmm. If I had a good enough reason."

I shook my head, smirking to myself. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Me: "Well, you already know where I'll be—season starts tomorrow. You should come catch a game."

Kendall: "Maybe. But I was thinking something a little more… private."

I let that sit for a second, rolling my wrist as I processed her tone. I wasn't new to this.

Me: "We'll see. Hit me when you land."

Kendall: "I will. Don't work yourself to death before then."

The call ended.

The morning of opening night...

I woke up, checked my phone as I sat up in bed.

Kendall [1:42 AM]: "Just landed. Staying at the JW Marriott."

By the time I arrived at Amway Center, the energy in the arena was already buzzing. Opening night. Sold out.

The moment the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted. A video played on the jumbotron, recapping our championship run. The deep, dramatic voice of the announcer filled the arena:

"Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to center court as we raise the 2015 NBA Championship banner!"

As the banner slowly rose, I stood with my teammates from last season—Tobias, Vooch, and the rest. This was the moment we earned. The crowd's cheers were deafening.

Then, the moment we'd all been waiting for.

"Now… let's welcome your 2015 NBA Champions, the ORLANDO MAGIC!"

One by one, they called us up to receive our championship rings. The roar of the crowd followed every player, but they saved the loudest for last.

"And finally…your 2015 NBA Finals MVP…FRANKLIN LINCOLN!"

The entire arena went INSANE. I walked up, my name flashing across the jumbotron, 36,000 fans screaming.

I was handed my ring, and I took a long look at it. Heavy. Pure gold. Diamonds shimmering under the arena lights. 

I slipped it on, held it up for the crowd, and pointed to the rafters where the banner hung.

The crowd erupted.

The ceremony ended, but my mind had already moved to the next challenge.

"Enjoy that moment." Derrick Rose tells me.

"We 'bout to get another one" I say.

The ceremony was over. The rings were handed out. The championship banner was up.

Now? It was time to go to work.

First play—Rose took Bradley Beal off the dribble, spun through the lane, and finished with a floater.

Next possession—he caught a pass from me at the top of the key, took two dribbles, and pulled up for a smooth mid-range jumper. All net.

-Commentators' POV

"Derrick Rose is looking real comfortable out there, Mike. You can tell he's in a system that lets him be himself."

"Absolutely, Jeff. The explosiveness might not be what it was but the skill? The craft? It's still elite. And when you put a scorer like him next to Franklin Lincoln? This backcourt is going to be a PROBLEM this season."

-Second quarter

Midway through the second quarter, there was a timeout. While we were huddling, the big screen flashed over the front row seats.

Kendall Jenner.

The camera stayed on her for a second, and when she realized it, she just smirked and shrugged.

At that point? We were up 14.

-Second Half

The Wizards tried to push back in the third quarter, but it was too much.

They doubled me? Derrick hit shots.They collapsed on him? I found open looks.

The chemistry was clicking instantly.

By the fourth quarter, we were up 20+.

John Wall? He was silent.

Final score: Orlando 119 – Washington 98.