Chapter 69: The Designer in the Corner

The Adidas conference room in El Segundo overlooked a stretch of industrial buildings and the distant runways of Los Angeles International Airport. Every few minutes, the muted rumble of an aircraft passed through the windows. Kobe barely noticed. His attention was on the long table, where three basketball shoes sat beside stacks of sketches, material swatches, and a binder bearing his name.

Rob Pelinka took the chair to Kobe’s right and opened his briefcase. Across from them, the Adidas team arranged its presentation materials. A young intern gathered loose sketches near the far end of the table. He had been introduced with everyone else, but Kobe hadn’t caught his name.

Daniel Mercer, the designer assigned to lead Kobe’s signature-shoe project, extended his hand. “Good to finally sit down with you, Kobe.”

“Likewise.”

“We’ve got a few directions to show you,” Daniel said. “Nothing’s locked in. We want your input before we get too far into development.”

“I’ve got some ideas.”

Daniel smiled. “That’s what we’re here for.”

He placed the first sample between them. It was white leather with black stripes, a substantial collar, and a thick midsole. Angular panels ran along the upper, giving it a muscular appearance. Kobe turned it in his hands. The craftsmanship was good, and he could understand why someone would think it belonged on an NBA court.

He could also tell it wasn’t what he wanted.

“We looked at your measurements, your game at Lower Merion, and what you’ve shown during the preseason,” Daniel explained. “We reinforced the lateral side for those hard changes of direction, and there’s additional cushioning in the heel.”

Kobe bent the forefoot. It resisted. He pressed his thumb against the upper, then worked his fingers around the collar.

“How much does it weigh?”

“Just over seventeen ounces in your size. That’ll change a little once we finalize the materials.”

“Can we get that lower?”

“Absolutely. The question is how much we can remove without compromising support.”

Kobe nodded and reached for the second sample. This one was navy and silver, with a cleaner upper but much the same shape. He turned it over and examined the sole.

“Traction?”

“Modified herringbone,” the footwear engineer answered. “We’ve had good results with it. Durable, too.”

“How does it handle dust?”

“We’ll need to test that on different court surfaces. The rubber compound matters as much as the pattern.”

“I want to test it on a dusty court. And a damp spot, too. I want to know what happens when the floor isn’t perfect.”

The engineer made a note.

Daniel brought the third shoe forward. Black with purple accents, it had sweeping panels that converged near the heel. It looked fast sitting on the table, but Kobe found another heavy shoe with a high collar.

He flexed it once and set it beside the others.

Daniel watched him. “Not quite?”

“Not quite.”

“What are you thinking?”

Kobe looked at the three samples. “They all feel like they’re trying to hold my foot in place.”

“That’s part of the idea. You want support when you’re cutting.”

“I want my foot to stay in the shoe. I don’t want the shoe fighting my foot.”

Daniel leaned forward. “Show me what you mean.”

Kobe picked up the first sample and stood. He shifted his weight onto his right foot, bent his knee, and pushed sharply to the left. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor.

“When I plant, I need to get out of that position immediately. I don’t want to feel like I’m dragging something with me.”

“So you’re looking for better flexibility?” the engineer asked.

“Flexibility. Less weight. I want to feel the floor.”

Daniel picked up his pencil. “We can soften the forefoot, remove a panel or two, and look at a lighter upper.”

“What about the collar?”

“You want it lower?”

“A lot lower.”

“How low?”

Kobe reached for his folder. “Let me show you.”

Rob looked up from his notes. He’d seen Kobe working on the drawings over the past several days, often late into the evening, but this was the first time Kobe had brought them into a room full of professional designers.

Kobe pulled out three sheets of paper. The sketches weren’t pretty. Some lines had been erased so many times that the paper had begun to roughen, and the proportions changed slightly from one drawing to another. But the shape was clear: a low-cut silhouette, a streamlined upper, and a sole that followed the foot rather than sitting beneath it like a platform. He’d drawn the three stripes toward the rear, leaving the side relatively clean.

He slid the pages across the table.

“This.”

Daniel studied the first sheet, then placed it beside the white sample. “Okay. That’s a very different direction.”

“That’s what I want.”

“You’re thinking almost below the ankle.”

“Exactly.”

“There’s a reason most basketball shoes give you more coverage. You’re going to be planting hard, changing direction, having guys land on your feet. We need to make sure you’re not sliding around inside it.”

“Then make sure I don’t slide around.”

Daniel smiled faintly. “That’s the part we’re trying to figure out.”

Kobe smiled back. “That’s why I’m here.”

The engineer pulled a sketch closer. “I don’t have a problem exploring a lower collar, but the upper has to hold you securely when you move sideways. If we remove too much structure, your foot could shift over the edge of the sole.”

“So put the support where I need it.”

“That’s what we’d have to determine.”

Daniel placed tracing paper over Kobe’s sketch and began drawing. He added a firmer heel cup, reinforced the side, and raised the collar slightly.

“That gives us more security,” he said. “We could use lighter material through the forefoot and keep the leather where it’s doing the most work.”

He turned the paper toward Kobe.

The revised shoe was lower than the original samples. It was also beginning to look like them.

“Can we keep this part lower?” Kobe asked, pointing to the collar.

“We can, but we’d need to compensate somewhere else.”

Daniel drew another panel along the side.

Kobe watched the shape grow heavier. “That’s not quite it.”

Daniel looked between the drawings. “What’s missing?”

Kobe struggled to explain. He remembered moving in a shoe that seemed to disappear once the game started, leaving him aware of his footing without making him conscious of the shoe itself. The sensation was vivid enough that he could almost feel the court beneath him.

But a sensation wasn’t a blueprint.

“I don’t want to start with a regular basketball shoe and take pieces off,” he said. “I want to start with something light and figure out how to make it work for basketball.”

Daniel rested his pencil on the table. “That’s fair. The challenge is that we’re still going to need some of those same pieces.”

“Maybe. But they don’t have to look the same.”

One of the junior designers examined Kobe’s sketch. “It almost looks like a tennis shoe.”

Kobe glanced at him. “Then make me a tennis shoe I can dunk in.”

Rob laughed. The junior designer grinned, and even Daniel chuckled.

“All right,” Daniel said. “That’s one way to put it.”

Elaine, the marketing representative, leaned forward. “Can I ask how important the low-cut look is to you? Is it mainly about performance, or is that also how you want the shoe to look?”

“Both.”

“A lot of customers expect a basketball shoe to look substantial, especially a signature shoe.”

Kobe considered that. Appearance mattered. Kids bought shoes because of the players wearing them, but they also had to like what they saw.

“I want people to look at it and want to wear it,” he said. “But I’m the one who has to play in it.”

Elaine nodded. “That’s useful.”

“And if it works the way I want, they’ll see that.”

Daniel returned to the sketches. “What if we take the second sample, lower the collar, clean up the upper—”

Kobe shook his head. “You’re starting with that shoe again.”

Daniel paused.

Kobe tapped his drawing. “Start with this one.”

After a moment, Daniel nodded and pulled over a fresh sheet of tracing paper. “All right. Let’s start with yours.”

They spent the next hour working through variations. Daniel made a genuine effort, reducing the collar, simplifying the upper, and trying different reinforcement layouts. The engineer identified areas that would need support. One of the junior designers produced a cleaner rendering of Kobe’s original sketch.

A few versions came close. Then another panel would appear, or the sole would grow thicker, or the heel would become too bulky. Kobe would point out what bothered him, Daniel would explain why he’d made the change, and they would try something else.

Nobody raised his voice. Nobody stopped listening. They simply kept arriving at shoes that were almost right.

By the time Rob glanced at his watch, the table was covered with tracing paper. Kobe had begun to recognize the pattern: he would describe how he wanted the shoe to feel, and Daniel would translate that into a feature from something Adidas already knew how to make.

The solutions were reasonable. They just weren’t his.

“How about we break for lunch?” Rob suggested.

Kobe remained at the table, comparing his original sketch with Daniel’s latest revision. He understood why Daniel had made every change. That was the frustrating part. Each solved a legitimate problem, but together they kept pulling the design away from what Kobe imagined.

He could see the finished shoe in his mind. Getting it onto paper was proving considerably harder.

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The faint scratch of a pencil drew Kobe’s attention toward the windows.

The young intern hadn’t gone to lunch. He sat at the far end of the room, one foot hooked around his chair, working in a sketchbook. Kobe picked up his water bottle and headed toward the door, but a glimpse of the drawing made him stop.

“Hold on. What’s that?”

The intern looked up, his pencil hovering above the page. He had dark, untidy hair and wore a faded T-shirt beneath an open button-down. A gray smudge marked the side of his hand.

“Just something I was messing around with.”

“That’s a shoe?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I see it?”

“Go ahead.”

The intern turned the sketchbook toward him.

Kobe leaned closer.

The shoe was beautiful. Its upper flowed cleanly from the toe toward a low collar, with reinforcement that followed the silhouette rather than interrupting it. The sole curved around the heel, and the three stripes were integrated into the design without overwhelming everything else. No unnecessary panels. No exaggerated shapes demanding attention.

It looked light. It looked fast.

It looked like something Kobe would actually want to wear.

He pulled out the chair beside the intern. “Man, why wasn’t this one up there?”

“Because I drew it about twenty minutes ago.”

Kobe laughed. “This looks better than half the stuff we’ve been staring at all morning.”

“Thanks.”

“Look at this.” Kobe turned the sketchbook slightly. “The way the upper comes into the heel. It all fits together. You didn’t just slap a bunch of panels on it.”

“That was the idea.”

“How’d you come up with it?”

The intern leaned forward, growing more comfortable now that they were discussing the drawing. “I started with what you were saying about wanting to feel the floor. The other designs were starting with a basketball shoe and taking things off. I figured I’d try it the other way around.”

“Start with something light?”

“Yeah. Then figure out what it needs to work for basketball.”

Kobe looked at him. “That’s what I’ve been saying all morning.”

Kobe tapped the page. “Have you got any more?”

“A few.”

“Let’s see ’em.”

The intern flipped backward through his sketchbook. There were several variations of the same shoe: one with a broader heel, another with different reinforcement along the side, and a third with a cleaner upper. On the opposite page, he’d drawn the outsole from underneath, experimenting with traction patterns and the shape of the forefoot.

“You did all these during the meeting?”

“Most of them. I started with something different, but then you got up and showed everybody how you cut.”

“What about it?”

“The way you planted. You were talking about the shoe fighting your foot. I wanted to see if there was a way to give you support without making the whole thing stiff.”

Kobe returned to the first sketch. “Why’s the heel wider down here?”

“I thought a broader base might help with stability. You wanted the collar lower, so I was looking at other ways to make the shoe feel secure.”

“Would it work?”

“I don’t know. We’d have to build it first. A shoe can look great on paper and feel terrible once somebody puts it on.”

“Trust me, I know.”

Kobe flipped back to the first sketch. He liked seeing the abandoned versions. Some were crossed out; others were surrounded by notes and alternate views. He could follow the young man’s thinking from one page to the next.

“This is still my favorite,” Kobe said.

“Mine too.”

“Except for this.”

He tapped the heel.

The intern leaned closer. “What about it?”

“Looks a little heavy. I like the width underneath, but the back’s too big.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

He reached for a clean sheet and began sketching. “What if we kept the width down here but brought the upper in a little?”

A few strokes narrowed the heel while preserving the broader base.

“Something like this?”

Kobe tilted his head. “It’s better. But now it looks like you stuck a different heel on the shoe.”

The intern studied it. “You’re right. The line doesn’t flow.”

The intern adjusted the angle, drew a quick rear view, and compared the two. After another small change, he turned the page toward Kobe.

“How about now?”

Kobe smiled. “Now you’re talking.”

The intern drew a top view and placed it beside the side profile. After a moment, he tapped the heel.

“See, this is where it gets tricky. If we narrow the upper too much, it might not hold your heel properly.”

“So we keep the width underneath and find another way to secure the foot.”

Kobe pointed to the reinforcement. “What if you moved that back a little? Brought it around toward the heel instead of ending it here?”

The intern considered the suggestion, then drew a new line.

“Like this?”

“A little lower.”

He adjusted it and stopped. “That might actually work.”

Kobe grinned. “You sound surprised.”

“I hadn’t thought about bringing it around that far.”

The intern connected the reinforcement to the heel. Then he erased one of the original panels and redrew the upper.

Kobe leaned back.

The shoe looked better. Not dramatically different, but cleaner and more balanced. What interested him most was how quickly the young man had gotten there. Kobe had identified a problem, and instead of defending his drawing, the intern had experimented. He’d tried one solution, discovered another problem, and taken Kobe’s suggestion somewhere Kobe hadn’t expected.

“That’s good,” Kobe said.

“Yeah. I like that.”

“You should’ve shown this stuff earlier.”

“I wasn’t exactly invited to present.”

“You were in the room.”

“That’s not quite the same thing.”

Kobe laughed. He had a point.

“What’s your name again?”

“Julian. Julian Calder.”

“Kobe.”

Julian grinned as they shook hands. “I know who you are.”

“Just making sure.”

Kobe settled back into his chair. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Are you still in school?”

“Finished my industrial-design program. I’m interning here now.”

“And this is what you want to do? Design shoes?”

“Shoes, clothes, whatever I can get my hands on. I like making things people actually use.”

“You ever made a shoe?”

“Not a real one. I’ve built models, worked with foam, and put a few things together. Nothing you’d want to play forty minutes in. I’ve still got a lot to learn,” Julian admitted. “That’s why I wanted to get in here. Drawings are one thing. Figuring out how to make them work is another.”

“Everybody starts somewhere.”

“Yeah. I just wish someone would come with a little more drawing and a little less organizing material samples.”

Kobe glanced at the neat stacks beside Julian’s chair. “That’s your job?”

“Oh, it’s a thrill. Yesterday I spent two hours looking for a particular shade of gray.”

“A shade of gray?”

Julian shook his head. “Honestly? Looked exactly like all the other shades of gray.”

Kobe burst out laughing.

Julian laughed with him, then reached for his pencil again. He made one final adjustment to the upper and set his pencil down. Kobe examined the drawing, smiling at how naturally the pieces now fit together.

“Now that’s a shoe I want to try.”

Julian looked pleased, but his attention soon returned to Kobe. “So what were you trying to get them to change on yours?”

“My sketches?”

“Yeah. I saw a couple when you passed them around, but I couldn’t really get a good look.”

Kobe glanced toward the conference table, then stood.

“Hold on.”

He retrieved his folder from beside the Adidas samples. When he returned, Julian moved his sketchbook aside and cleared a space between them.

Kobe opened the folder and spread out his drawings.

“All right. Don’t laugh.”

Julian leaned forward. He moved one drawing beside another, compared the heel on the first with the upper on the second, then turned a page sideways to examine the outsole. He returned to the original sketch and studied it for several seconds.

Kobe waited.

Finally, Julian tapped the first page. “Okay. I think I see what you’re going for.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. But you’ve got a few conflicting ideas.”

Kobe leaned forward. “Like what?”

Julian picked up his pencil, then paused.

“Mind if I draw on these?”

Kobe smiled and slid a clean sheet of tracing paper across the table.