Chapter 70: The Calder Name (Bonus Chapter)

Julian laid the tracing paper over Kobe’s sketches and held it in place with his left hand. He studied the drawings side by side, tracing the line of the outsole with his pencil before stopping at the midfoot.

“See, that’s where you’re running into trouble,” he said. “You like the shape of this one, but you’ve got a different sole underneath it. They don’t quite belong together.”

Kobe leaned forward. He’d drawn the shoes from memory, trying to capture something he could picture perfectly but couldn’t reproduce on paper. Now that Julian had placed the sketches beside each other, the contradiction was obvious.

“So we can’t use both?”

Julian shifted the tracing paper. “We just need to figure out how they meet.”

He drew a line from the forefoot toward the midfoot, then stopped and reconsidered it. Kobe suggested bringing the transition farther back, but Julian shook his head and showed him what that would do to the shape of the sole. They tried another approach, adjusting the proportions until the two designs began to look like parts of the same shoe.

The first version was awkward. The second looked better from the side but created a new problem when Julian drew it from above. Kobe pointed out what bothered him, and Julian experimented with the lines until he found a way to incorporate the reinforcement without adding another bulky panel to the upper.

Neither of them spoke for a moment as Julian finished the drawing.

Kobe picked up the sheet and held it beside the original. The difference wasn’t simply that the new version looked cleaner. Julian had taken the ideas Kobe couldn’t quite reconcile and made them work together, adding details Kobe hadn’t thought of himself.

“That’s it,” Kobe said.

Julian glanced at him. “It’s a start. We’d still have to figure out whether we can actually build it.”

“Then that’s what we do next.”

Rob returned a few minutes later to find the table covered with sketches. He looked at the drawing Kobe held out, then at the original sheets beside it.

“What happened while I was gone?”

“Found somebody who understands what I’m talking about.”

Julian looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention. “We were just trying a few things.”

Rob examined the drawing. “It looks promising. Doesn’t mean the engineers won’t have a hundred questions.”

“I’ve already got about fifty,” Julian admitted.

Kobe laughed. “Look at you getting all comfortable. We can start with those.”

After a few more minutes, Kobe thanked Julian and asked if he could speak with Rob privately. Julian gathered his pencils, leaving the revised drawings on the table, and headed toward the studio.

Rob waited until the door closed.

“All right,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

Kobe laid the drawings side by side. “I want him working on my shoes.”

“He already is, apparently.”

“No. I mean I want him leading the designs.”

Rob looked up. “Julian? He’s an intern.”

“I know.”

“He’s twenty-two, Kobe. Has he ever taken a shoe from a drawing to a finished product?”

“Not yet. That’s why he’d have people helping him.”

Rob leaned back. “Daniel’s already running the project. You’re talking about changing the design team after one afternoon.”

“I’m talking about having Julian lead the creative side,” Kobe said. “Give him the engineers and developers he needs to make the shoe work.”

“And Daniel?” Rob asked.

“Put him on another project. He’s a good designer, Rob. He listened to everything I said, and he worked his ass off trying to get it right. We just see the shoe differently.”

Rob glanced at the sketches. “You know you can’t decide where Adidas assigns its people.”

“I know. That’s your conversation to have with them. I just don’t want Daniel thinking I’m trying to get him fired because I liked somebody else’s drawing.”

“All right,” Rob said. “I’ll ask them about reassigning him. But if they agree, Julian’s going to need experienced people around him.”

He continued, “What makes you so sure about this kid?”

Kobe considered the question. Julian hadn’t agreed with every suggestion he’d made. He’d pointed out problems, discarded ideas, and found solutions Kobe wouldn’t have arrived at on his own. That was exactly what Kobe had been looking for all morning.

“He doesn’t just draw what I tell him,” Kobe said. “He makes it better.”

Rob looked down at the sketches, then closed his notebook.

“All right. I’ll find out what Adidas can do.”

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The conference room Rob had borrowed for the afternoon looked like every other room in the office park. White walls, a long table, six chairs, and a window overlooking the Adidas design studio. Someone had left a stack of unused notepads beside the telephone. The overhead lights hummed faintly.

Rob set his briefcase on the table and opened the folder an Adidas representative had given him.

Julian Calder. Twenty-two years old. A recent industrial-design graduate from the Art Center College of Design with experience in model-making, a handful of student projects, and an internship at Adidas that had begun earlier that summer. His résumé was respectable, although nothing on it immediately explained why Kobe had become so determined to put him in charge of the creative direction of a seventy-million-dollar endorsement deal.

Rob turned to the portfolio.

The first few pages contained drawings of ordinary objects: a desk lamp, a chair, and a compact radio. None of them looked particularly revolutionary at first glance. What caught his attention were the sketches surrounding each finished design. Julian had drawn the same object from different angles, crossed out sections, reconsidered proportions, and written questions in the margins. One chair had gone through nearly a dozen variations before its legs stopped looking like an afterthought.

Rob lingered over a drawing of the lamp. Julian had moved its supporting arm three times, each adjustment changing the relationship between the base and the shade. The final version was simpler than the first, but getting there had clearly taken more work.

He recognized the process.

The table had been covered with tracing paper, discarded ideas, and revisions. Kobe had arrived with a particular image in his head, and Julian had somehow helped him bring it into focus. Rob hadn’t witnessed most of their collaboration, but the changes between the original sketches and the finished drawing told him plenty. Julian hadn’t simply copied what Kobe wanted. He’d contributed something of his own.

Rob turned another page and found a footwear study.

It was an early concept, nothing close to a production-ready shoe. The sole was sketched from three angles, and the upper had been revised so many times that the original lines were barely visible beneath the tracing paper. A handwritten note sat beside the final drawing.

Structure should follow movement, not interrupt it.

Rob looked at the note for a moment before moving on.

Near the back of the portfolio, he found a short statement about Julian’s interest in design. It was written in the same neat, slightly cramped handwriting as the notes beside his drawings.

I grew up surrounded by sketches and sculptures. My grandfather was an artist, and there were always things around the house that looked different depending on where you stood. I liked trying to figure out how a few lines on paper could become something you could walk around, touch, or use.

Rob read the paragraph again.

His grandfather was an artist.

He glanced at the name printed across the top of the page.

Julian Calder.

The possibility occurred to him almost immediately, although he dismissed it just as quickly. Calder wasn’t an especially unusual surname, and there was no reason to assume that every young designer with the name was related to Alexander Calder.

Still, the thought stayed with him.

Rob knew Alexander Calder’s work well enough to recognize the enormous sculptures and suspended metal shapes that appeared in museum photographs. He also remembered reading about a gallery dedicated to the sculptor at the National Gallery of Art in Washington.

He reached for the telephone.

After obtaining the museum’s number, Rob called and explained that he was hoping to speak with someone familiar with the Calder Tower. The receptionist transferred him to a staff member who worked with the museum’s modern art collection.

“Rob Pelinka,” he said. “I’m Kobe Bryant’s agent. I’m hoping you might be able to help me with something involving the Calder family.”

The woman asked what he needed.

“We’re working with a young designer named Julian Calder. He mentioned that his grandfather was an artist, and I was wondering whether there might be a connection to Alexander Calder.”

“I see,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t confirm private family information or give you anyone’s personal number.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Rob asked whether there was an appropriate public contact for the Calder family who might be willing to answer a question.

“I can take your information and see whether there’s an appropriate person to forward it to,” she said.

Rob gave her his office number, thanked her, and returned to the portfolio.

Nearly an hour later, Rob was examining the footwear study again when the telephone rang. The museum staff member had evidently passed along his message faster than he’d expected.

“Mr. Pelinka?”

“Speaking.”

“My name is Margaret Calder. I understand you contacted the National Gallery.”

Rob straightened in his chair. “Thank you for returning my call.”

She asked what had prompted his interest in the family. Rob explained that he represented Kobe Bryant, who had spent the afternoon working on a shoe design with a young Adidas intern named Julian Calder.

“Julian?” she asked.

“Yes. Twenty-two years old. Industrial-design graduate.”

There was a brief pause.

“That’s my son.”

Rob looked down at the résumé.

“Your son?”

“Yes. He’s been working out in California for a few months. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Rob assured her. “Actually, Kobe’s very impressed with him. We’re discussing the possibility of giving him a larger role in the design of his signature shoe.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

Rob smiled. “Julian mentioned his grandfather in a statement about his artistic influences, but he didn’t give a name. When I saw Calder, I got curious.”

“Alexander was my father,” she confirmed. “Julian grew up around his work. I suppose it had quite an influence on him.”

They spoke briefly about Julian’s interest in design before Rob thanked her for returning his call. He didn’t ask her to intervene on her son’s behalf or suggest that the family connection would influence Adidas’s decision.

When he hung up, he looked at the portfolio again.

Alexander Calder’s grandson was an intern at Adidas, sitting in the corner of a design meeting and organizing material samples while the company tried to develop Kobe Bryant’s first signature shoe.

Rob could imagine what an Adidas executive might do with that information. The family name alone would make for an interesting conversation, particularly if someone decided it could be turned into a marketing angle.

But Julian hadn’t mentioned it.

Rob returned to the statement in the portfolio. Julian had written about growing up around his grandfather’s work without identifying him. It was an unusual omission, particularly in a portfolio meant to establish his artistic background. Had Julian deliberately left out the name, or had he simply never thought it worth mentioning?

Rob couldn’t tell. He would have to ask him.

He looked down at the drawings Kobe had shown him earlier.

By the time Rob returned to the design room, the table had been covered with tracing paper, discarded sketches, and revisions. Kobe had been excited enough to pull him aside and request that a twenty-two-year-old intern take over the creative direction of his signature shoe. Whatever had happened while Rob was away, the results had convinced Kobe.

And Kobe had made that decision before either of them knew who Julian’s grandfather was.

Rob picked up the footwear study and examined it again. The drawing wasn’t perfect. The proportions were promising, but there were questions an engineer would need to answer before anyone could build a workable prototype. Julian had marked several of those questions himself.

That, Rob thought, was worth remembering.

He closed the portfolio and checked his watch. The design team would be wrapping up soon, and he still needed to speak with Adidas about Kobe’s request.

He could ask Julian about his grandfather tomorrow, preferably somewhere private. There was no reason to turn the discovery into a conversation in front of the entire department.

Rob reached for the telephone and dialed his contact at Adidas.

“Hey, it’s Rob. Do you have a few minutes? I wanted to talk about Kobe’s design team.”

He listened, then glanced at Julian’s folder.

“Yeah. There’s someone Kobe wants to work with. I think we should discuss what that could look like.”

Rob pulled a notepad toward him as the conversation began. Whatever Julian’s grandfather had accomplished, it wouldn’t answer the questions Adidas would have about an inexperienced intern taking on a larger role. Rob would still need to make the case for him, and Kobe’s afternoon of sketches was where that case would start.

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Bonus chapter!

I really appreciate everyone who’s been reading, commenting, voting, and following Kobe’s journey so far.

Let’s keep it going. 🐍🏀