Chapter 242 240: Private Visitor
Standing where they were, watching Lu Ke walk away, Logan and Marcus both wore odd expressions. They glanced at each other, and Logan spoke up, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Marcus nodded seriously. "Yeah, same here. I was just wondering, could that be his sugar daddy?"
"Screw you!" Before Marcus could finish, Logan gave him a sharp jab with his elbow. Then they both burst out laughing, and Logan finally said, "I was thinking that guy looked really familiar. I get the feeling he's somebody important, but I can't place him for the life of me."
"Lech Steinberg." A voice came from behind them. The two turned and saw it was Aldon Smith. He jerked his chin in the direction Lu Ke and the old man had gone, supplying the answer.
The name was a bit of a mouthful. Marcus was still processing, repeating it to himself and trying to figure out which important figure it referred to. But for Logan, a light bulb went off. He snapped his fingers. "That's it, Lech Steinberg!"
A look of joy and surprise washed over his face. Logan slammed his shoulder into Marcus's. "He's that legendary agent! The 'one player per era' guy. Right now, he only has one NFL player on his roster: Big Ben."
Marcus's mouth slowly fell open, a look of profound shock welling up in his eyes. He was so stunned he couldn't make a sound. He turned to Aldon, seeking confirmation, his eyes clearly asking if it was truly *that* agent.
In today's materialistic, profit-driven world, Lech Steinberg was a breed apart. To him, relationships were more important than money, and his players were more important than personal gain. Agents like that were a dying breed, but not only did Lech exist, he was one of the absolute best in the business.
It was common knowledge that any player Lech took an interest in had to have two qualities. First, boundless potential. Second, something that made them truly unique.
Putting everything else aside, the title "a player favored by Lech Steinberg" alone was enough to make countless other agents come flocking. Even a no-name player could become the center of public attention.
Precisely because Lech focused on only one player at a time, all of his resources were concentrated on that single individual—from sponsorships and media exposure to crisis management. Everything was the best of the best, ensuring his player received the highest possible level of treatment.
Ben Roethlisberger was the best example. Big Ben's on-field performance was outstanding, but off the field, he was a master of getting into trouble. He not only caused a near-fatal car crash while driving without a license, sparking endless controversy, but was also embroiled in two separate sexual assault scandals. The cases even went to court, causing Big Ben to lose a number of endorsement deals.
But under Lech's management, Big Ben remained the undisputed "King" of Pittsburgh, much like the treatment Brett Favre received in Green Bay.
Every player dreamed of being represented by Lech, but the discerning Jew never budged. For thirty years, he had remained unwavering in his principles, becoming a unique fixture in the NFL. To every professional player, the name "Lech Steinberg" was legendary.
And today, unbelievably, Lech had appeared right in front of them!
Aldon nodded firmly in confirmation. "I'm positive. That's Lech Steinberg. He was in the green room at this year's draft. My agent specifically took me over to say hello. It wasn't just me; the agents for almost all the first-round picks made a point of greeting him. There's no way I'm mistaken."
As a first-round pick this year, Aldon Smith was in a different league. Agents had started approaching players like him before the NCAA season even ended. Even Logan and Marcus had signed with their own agents after the Rookie Training Camp, based on their draft stock.
As for Lu Ke, his game film sample size was just too small, with too many variables. Even though he performed exceptionally well at the Rookie Training Camp, no agents had come knocking.
In the NFL draft process, scouts, teams, and agents often spend three to four years observing a single player. The files on each prospect could fill an entire bookshelf; you couldn't get through all the tape in three days and three nights of constant watching. This was especially true for first-round picks—every strength, every weakness, even the smallest detail of their personal lives, was put under a microscope.
The draft was about choosing a team's future. No one took it lightly.
Players like Lu Ke, who shone like shooting stars at the Rookie Training Camp, were a dime a dozen. But what truly determined a team's decision was a player's on-field performance over the past three or four years. That was precisely what Lu Ke was missing. So, Lu Ke went undrafted, and likewise, no agents came calling.
Yet, by a twist of fate, Lu Ke's wait had brought him Lech Steinberg.
Marcus and Logan's jaws dropped. They exchanged a look and then started howling, "WOOOO! Bambi's gonna get paid! Bambi's gonna get paid!"
Other teammates nearby crowded around to ask what was going on. In the blink of an eye, the news spread like wildfire through the whole team. Many of the rookies joined the commotion, wanting to get a look at the famous "Jerry Maguire" for themselves. The nickname came from the Tom Cruise film of the same name, which was based on Lech Steinberg's life and career.
The San Francisco 49ers locker room erupted into a buzz, but Lu Ke and Lech were already walking away toward the restaurant, leaving the commotion behind them for the time being.
"Congratulations on the win today." Lech and Lu Ke headed toward the hotel restaurant, their pace slowing slightly. Lech didn't dive straight to the point, making small talk instead.
"Thank you." Lu Ke accepted the congratulations graciously. "I didn't know you were in Cincinnati."
Lech clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Lu Ke with a smile, not saying a word. His wise eyes, twinkling with amusement, held the kindly gaze of an elder looking at the younger generation. He studied him intently for a moment before continuing, "Come on, you're smarter than that. Or rather, you should be more confident."
Lu Ke chuckled. "So you're saying you came all the way to Cincinnati just to watch my game?"
"That's more like it. I knew you were smart enough," Lech said with a slight nod of approval, which made Lu Ke smile. "I needed to see you play in person. You know, watching on TV and being at the stadium are two completely different experiences. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course. And standing off the field versus standing on it are also completely different," Lu Ke replied, holding his own and showing no sign of nervousness or unease.
'Either he has no idea who I am and what my name means, or he has the right mindset and is taking my appearance in stride.'
Personally, Lech was inclined to believe the latter. "I can't imagine what it feels like for a quarterback, standing on the field and commanding the game."
"Actually, you don't feel anything," Lu Ke said with a smile. "All emotions completely vanish. It's just tactics, tactics, tactics—that's the only thing in your mind. As for nerves and panic, they manifest in hidden ways, maybe a hitch in your throwing motion or a loss of control over your power. Those are things you can't control. So, the only thing to do is focus, focus, and focus again. And hope you can get back in the driver's seat."
"And have you managed to do that?" Lech asked abruptly.
Uncharacteristically, Lu Ke didn't answer right away. He thought for a moment. "I thought I had. But I'm still learning."
In competitive sports, players must be confident. Only by truly believing in themselves can they create miracles; the slightest bit of self-doubt can change the outcome. At the same time, they can't be blindly arrogant. Only by recognizing their shortcomings and facing their weaknesses can they become more formidable. It was a contradiction, but one they had to live with.
'This was an undeniable truth of the arena. For rookies, especially the highly touted "Pride of Heaven" prospects, it took countless trials and harsh setbacks to learn this lesson. Yet Lu Ke already seemed to grasp its essence—perhaps he'd started learning it back in college, during his time as a practice player.'
'Lech liked that quality in Lu Ke. It was unique. He wasn't sure if it was related to Lu Ke's background as an immigrant of Chinese descent, or his bumpy career path. But one thing was certain: that quality was becoming part of his game, and given time, it could become the key factor that allowed him to control the outcome of a match.'
BZZZT. The vibration of a phone came from his pocket, sounding in a lull in the conversation and making it particularly noticeable.
Lu Ke gave Lech an apologetic smile. "Sorry." He pulled out his phone, glanced at the caller ID, then declined the call and put it back in his pocket. But before he could speak again, the phone vibrated once more. Lu Ke repeated the exact same series of actions.
Lech chuckled. "You can take the call. I don't mind."
Lu Ke waved it off and said casually, "No, it's nothing, it's nothing. Just some telemarketers."
"If those agents heard you describe them that way, they'd be heartbroken," Lech teased gently.
Lu Ke's smile faltered for a second before widening again. "I'm sure they're not that fragile. They can take it."
Just as Lech had guessed, the last two calls had been from sports agents, but Lu Ke hadn't answered either. Just then, his phone went off a third time, but this time it was a text message.
Lu Ke pulled out his phone again, switched it to silent, and tossed it back into his pocket. Finally, some peace and quiet.