The door to the Marriott Century City conference room in Los Angeles creaked open. Any sound of footsteps was absorbed by the burgundy carpet, leaving no trace.
A sharply dressed gentleman entered, wearing a full three-piece suit despite the sweltering September heat in Los Angeles. His carefully groomed bald spot atop his head suggested he took great care with his appearance, underscoring his seriousness.
The gentleman immediately bypassed Donald, his earnest and warm gaze locking onto Lance. He opened with a small joke to break the ice.
Lance, slightly caught off guard, followed the gentleman's gaze out the window, where he spotted a towering billboard above the Century City skyline—
"Los Angeles Chargers vs. Kansas City Chiefs."
The highlight? The promotional poster, which should have showcased both teams, only featured Lance.
After thinking for a moment, Lance realized this wasn't surprising.
The Chargers, having only recently returned to Los Angeles, lacked a strong fanbase. Instead of focusing on their team, it was smarter to promote the NFL's rising star.
Still, Lance wasn't used to seeing his face on a massive billboard. Staring at the unfamiliar version of himself, he tilted his head slightly before turning back to the gentleman.
"I imagine that photo's been heavily edited. Are you sure that's me?" Lance teased.
The gentleman laughed heartily, extending his hand. "That's why I said you're much better looking in person. Trevor Edwards."
Donald, standing by, faded into the background.
But Donald didn't mind. Trevor Edwards was Nike's Executive Vice President of Brand Marketing, a top-tier executive. His presence alone was a testament to Nike's sincerity. And his actions further reinforced this.
Typically, seasoned negotiators like Edwards viewed rookies as impressionable. Throwing a few enticing numbers their way was often enough to win them over. Negotiations were usually a dance between agents and corporate representatives.
If the agent was a heavyweight, rookies rarely had a say, nodding along to whatever was decided.
Yet Edwards didn't follow this script.
Despite Donald's role as the lead negotiator, Edwards knew the final decision rested with Lance. His respect for Lance was evident, a calculated gesture that showed Nike had done its homework.
Edwards appeared confident, fully in control of the conversation.
"People often say that professional athletes should speak with their performance on the field, and of course, that's true. Sports don't celebrate losers. But when it comes to the commercial market, performance isn't the only metric."
"Otherwise, David Beckham wouldn't have been the highest-earning footballer of the past two decades, despite never winning a Ballon d'Or."
Beckham: Direct hit to the knee.
Lance spread his hands. "People also say Beckham is just a pretty face with no substance. I'm not sure if that's a testament to his success or his failure."
Beckham: Another hit to the knee.
Edwards laughed heartily. "So, the media hasn't commented on your looks yet. Does that make you happy or disappointed?"
Shrugging, Lance replied, "Oh, with me, they have so many things to critique that 'pretty face' doesn't even make the list. I guess I'm luckier than Beckham?"
Was that… self-deprecation?
A glint of admiration appeared in Edwards' eyes.
Take Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi, for example. Both are football legends, locked in a battle for supremacy. Yet Ronaldo's earnings outpace Messi's, thanks in part to his looks.
This isn't to say Messi is unattractive, but Ronaldo's polished image, combined with his business savvy, has elevated his marketability.
However, looks alone aren't enough. Sports are filled with handsome players. True stardom requires personal charisma to transcend the field and captivate a broader audience.
And now, Edwards saw a rare charisma in Lance—an authenticity beyond his age. Lance was more impressive in person than in any press conference or game footage.
It was astonishing. Edwards felt the media hadn't even scratched the surface of Lance's potential.
Edwards took a moment to observe Lance before delivering his verdict.
"You know, I see shades of Roger Federer in you."
Federer? The Swiss tennis legend?
Much like Michael Jordan, Federer collaborated with Nike to build a commercial empire.
Though Lance had limited foresight from his 2023 origins, he knew one thing—at Wimbledon 2018, Federer quietly appeared in a Uniqlo outfit, signaling the end of his 15-year partnership with Nike.
Years later, Nike's CEO admitted it was a mistake to let Federer go. They should have fought to keep the Federer brand within Nike's portfolio.
Was Nike already in talks with Federer? Had they decided against renewing his contract? Were they now shifting focus to younger stars, including Lance?
Lance was intrigued that Edwards brought up Federer.
"Oh, an honor. Does that mean I get a Federer-style deal?" Lance joked.
Edwards, quick to catch the humor, laughed. "Let's put it this way: we're eager to discover the next Federer."
Right on cue, Donald chimed in. "Or rather, the first Lance of the NFL."
Federer redefined tennis much like Jordan did basketball, elevating their respective sports into new commercial territories.
Donald's words carried weight.
Edwards turned to Donald, finally recognizing his true opponent.
Nike had underestimated Donald's ambition and preparation. Was he genuinely aiming to position Lance as the turning point for ushering the NFL into the era of individual superstars?
Was that even possible?
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