The contract from Real Madrid Baloncesto was not a multi-page, jargon-filled labyrinth like his supermax had been. It was a stark, efficient document, written in both Spanish and English, that reflected the organization's no-nonsense ethos. Kyle spread it out on the hotel desk, the crisp white pages a stark contrast to the dark, aged wood.
Article 1: Term. Two years. A definitive, unyielding timeframe. Not a one-year "prove-it" deal, not a long-term security blanket. Two seasons to prove his worth on the grandest European stage.
Article 3: Compensation. The number was stated clearly. It was a fraction of his NBA salary, but more than Berlin or Japan had offered. It was a serious, respectful amount for a EuroLeague star, but it was not life-altering money. The tax implications were outlined with brutal Spanish efficiency. This was not about getting rich; it was about earning a living doing the only thing he loved.
