People in America: My Uncle Don Quixote

The owner of the Philadelphia Hawks had calmed down a bit by now. He sat in his chair without saying a word, watching his hastily assembled ally being bled dry by Don Quixote and John Mara.

At this moment, he felt a sense of relief.

As the saying goes, "It's better to die for your friend than for yourself." When being chased by a bear, you don't need to run faster than the bear; you just need to run faster than your teammates.

At least the Philadelphia Hawks only gave Levi a pat on the back; if the others hadn't satisfied Levi and John Mara today, they probably wouldn't be watching this season at all.

The NFL broadcaster, the Las Vegas executives, and the online casino executives looked at each other in bewilderment.

Finally, the online casino representative glanced around, stood up first, took the business plan, sat down heavily, and began to read it without saying a word.

With one person taking the lead, others followed suit and picked up the business plan to read it.

"Our first demand," Don Quixote raised a finger and cleared his throat, "is that if Levi's sports drink brand goes into production, we require Coca-Cola to manufacture the entire product line for us, and that the NFL give us the green light in terms of distribution channels."

The first demand alone was enough to make the NFL broadcaster's vice president lose his composure.

"Coca-Cola is an NFL sponsor," he shouted. "They have their own tightly knit business structure. How could we possibly interfere with the internal production lines and distribution schedules of a Fortune 500 company?"

"That's not on my radar," Don Quixote said casually. "My second request is that I take 120 seconds of prime time during the Super Bowl broadcast next February to air the global premiere trailer for this sports drink."

"You're insane!! That's absolutely impossible!"

转播商副总裁再次跳了起来：「你以为超级碗的GG是地方电视台的深夜推销吗？！超级碗的GG是严格按照30秒为一个基本单位来售卖的！近几年的市场均价已经是700万美金\/30秒！你张口就要120秒，这不仅仅是近3000万美金的直接成本问题！」

"You demanded 120 seconds, but what about the other sponsors? What about the other brands?" He waved his hands. "This is about the league's rules, and the reputation of all the sponsors!"

Don Quixote didn't speak, but simply crossed his arms and watched the broadcaster's vice president, who was jumping around in front of him, with a leisurely air.

The owner of the Philadelphia Eagles relaxed his brow.

Seeing how upset they were, the Philadelphia Hawks owner felt a sense of peace.

On the other sofa, the Las Vegas casino partner, who had been looking down at his tablet, suddenly closed the tablet, took a cigar from the cigar box on the table, and started smoking.

"Hiss—whoosh~"

He closed his eyes and exhaled a puff of smoke: "The Coca-Cola issue will be handled in Las Vegas," he said.

"Are you crazy!" The NFL's vice president of broadcasting turned around in astonishment. "He's trying to rip us off!"

"We're losing hundreds of millions of dollars a week in hedging because of this uncontrollable monster! That's hundreds of millions of real money!" The casino tycoon yelled, pointing at the broadcaster's vice president. "Damn it, we admit it! And you're still worrying about your paltry sum! A measly 20-30 million dollar 'GG' slot! Do you know how much money we'll lose if he plays for another two weeks?! Do you think viewers will come back after they've been lost?! Do you care about your damn face?!"

"Give it to him! Give him whatever he wants! Resolve this issue immediately! If we continue to bleed money because of him in the second half of the season, I'm cutting off all my under-the-table sponsorships to the NFL!"

The power of capital has utterly crushed the rules.

The vice president, who had been trying to maintain the pitiful dignity of the alliance, turned pale under the casino's rage and the threat of withdrawal of investment.

John Mara watched the spectacle unfold before him with amusement, as their fragile alliance crumbled in a mere two minutes, much like the Philadelphia Hawks' defense.

"120 seconds is no good...we'll trigger a series of lawsuits!" The vice president gritted his teeth. "90 seconds! My authority is limited to a full 90-second GG segment, and I personally promise you that this will be the optimal prime time slot before the halftime show."

Don Quixote frowned dramatically, as if he were having a difficult internal struggle, then he turned to look at John Marat, who had been watching the show with a smile.

"Okay," he shrugged. "I'm sure my client doesn't want his athletic career to be over in such a short time. He won't push himself as hard as he used to, and he won't be able to give the audience such exciting matches."

"Is his goal still to win?" the online casino manager suddenly asked.

"Yes, that's right," said Don Quixote, "My client's requirement is to win."

"On behalf of myself, I'm offering Mr. Li Wei a personal commercial endorsement worth $20 million. This isn't a forced publicity offer," the online casino executive suddenly said. "My private request is that in the remaining regular season games, Li Wei needs to be trailing in at least two out of the first three quarters. Is that acceptable?"

This is blatant manipulation of the game.

Don Quixote glanced at the NFL's vice president of broadcasting, then looked at the other bigwigs, and found that no one questioned the proposal.

"I need to discuss this with my client," he said. "After all, my client is the one who ultimately makes the decision."

"If he can give me an answer before next week's match," the online casino manager nodded, "I will personally send him another gift."

"By the way," Don Quixote, as an agent, had an obligation to vet the endorsements Li Wei accepted, "that commercial endorsement you mentioned—"

"It won't damage Levi's own brand value, and it has nothing to do with the casino," the online casino manager shook his head. "You can rest assured about that."

When the Las Vegas partner saw the online casino make such a request, he suddenly slapped his forehead in regret.

Since Li Wei has demonstrated the ability to control the score, Las Vegas could have easily partnered with him to expand and strengthen the business. However, they never expected that a young online casino would steal their thunder.

Seeing Don Quixote nod in satisfaction, just when everyone thought everything was over, John Mara slowly poured himself a glass of wine: "Gentlemen, Levy's personal bill is settled. Now, let's settle the New York Giants' bill."

The broadcaster's vice president closed his eyes in despair. "John, what do you want?" he said. "Just grab a revolver and shoot me dead."

"My request isn't unreasonable," John Mara smiled slightly. "Next year, our Giants need permission for two overseas exhibition games. This would be extremely beneficial for expanding the NFL's overseas market, wouldn't it?"

Upon hearing this condition, the vice president's tense nerves relaxed slightly.

While overseas tournaments are highly profitable, involving high ticket prices, broadcasting rights premiums, and huge revenue from merchandise, this is entirely within the rules and not particularly difficult to manage.

"Okay, I agree." Allen gritted his teeth and agreed very readily. "As long as Levi can keep the suspense going in the next game and maintain the ratings, I will push the competition committee to allocate the two high-priority overseas slots for the Giants next year."

"It's been a pleasure working with you." John Mara raised his glass in a gesture of respect, but the rim didn't touch his lips. "Now, let's talk about the second little thing."

Allen's heart skipped a beat, and he could even feel his blood pressure soaring.

"The Super Bowl next February," John Mara's smile gradually faded, "I want the hosting rights for New York City, to be held at the Metropolitan Life Stadium."

"You're fucking crazy—ouch!"

The broadcaster's vice president suddenly stood up, his knee even knocking over the coffee table in front of him, causing him to let out a painful groan and fall to the ground.

"John! You're a crazy old man! The host city for the Super Bowl is decided three years in advance by a vote of the 32 team owners! The location for next February was already decided! You voted back then too!"

"But people can come up with solutions, can't they?" John Mara looked down at the vice president who was lying on the ground rubbing his knees. "MetLife Stadium has all the necessary conditions to host any world-class event. Everything is ready, and we still have three months. There's plenty of time."

"This is blatant extortion!" Allen cried out in despair, clutching his hair, his voice trembling. "This is beyond my authority! Even if you threw me off this building today, I couldn't make this decision! It requires special approval from the league commissioner and the owners' committee! You need to talk to the NFL commissioner yourself!"

Seeing that Allen was being pushed to the brink of a mental breakdown, John Mara knew that the time to apply maximum pressure had come.

He wasn't trying to force the other party to their death, but rather to gain the right to enter the game.

Li Wei's performance today was truly spectacular, so spectacular that he would feel guilty if he didn't take advantage of it and ruthlessly exploit the NFL.

"No problem," John Mara suddenly flashed that amiable smile again, "I'll call the president myself."

He glanced around at the several bigwigs whose expressions had turned somewhat grim, then suddenly spoke up, "Of course, I, John Mara, have never been one to hog all the profits. If the Super Bowl is held in New York, the center of the world, the astonishing premiums, the VIP box under-the-table deals, the epic traffic from peripheral betting... we can easily redistribute these terrifying incremental profits. As long as the president nods, I guarantee that everyone here will have a lucrative February in New York."

The expressions of those present softened somewhat, and the anger and dissatisfaction in their eyes were gradually replaced by a sense of self-interest.

"Okay..." the vice president said, climbing onto the sofa and grumbling, "I'll arrange a meeting."

Whether it was Levi and Don Quixote who secured epic commercial resources, or John Mara, the cunning strategist who pulled off a scheme to bring the Super Bowl to his doorstep, they all emerged victorious in this game.

Now that the business deal has been settled, we can be good friends again once we're done negotiating.

John Mara and the owner of the Philadelphia Eagles put their arms around each other and laughed as they agreed to play Texas Hold'em with their partners in Las Vegas later.

After they finished talking, he suddenly called out to Don Quixote, who was about to leave.

"Well done," he said, looking Don Quixote up and down, his eyes practically overflowing with satisfaction. "You little rascal."

At the age of 70, John Marat certainly had the right to call Don Quixote a little rascal in front of the 45-year-old Don Quixote.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," Don Quixote chuckled, "you old bastard."

"I heard you left JPMorgan Chase a long time ago?" John Mara extended an olive branch to Don Quixote. "Want to play Texas Hold'em together later?"