“$345M Supermax Incoming? Edwards Might Break the NBA (and the Salary Cap) Before He Turns 26”

In a plot twist worthy of a Marvel crossover and an IRS panic attack, Anthony Edwards—the high-flying, meme-generating human highlight reel—may soon become the first NBA player in history to earn $1 million per game.

Yes, per game.

Not per season.

Not per week.

Per 48-minute, Gatorade-soaked, sneaker-squeaking performance.

And the internet, predictably, is in a full-blown meltdown.

By 2027, the Timberwolves star is expected to ink a supermax contract worth up to $345 million over just four years.

That’s $82 million annually, or—if you’re bad at math—enough to buy 82 million $1 tacos every year and still have change left over for courtside seats to watch yourself play.

NBA fans are stunned.

Economists are crying.

And somewhere, Michael Jordan is sipping whiskey, whispering, “Back in my day, we got paid in rings. ”

What started as a promising career has now evolved into a one-man financial revolution.

Anthony Edwards, once seen as a future star, is now being talked about in the same breath as GDPs.

Literally.

“If Minnesota were a country,” one fan tweeted, “Anthony Edwards would now be the highest-paid citizen. ”

Meanwhile, the league office is reportedly holding emergency meetings on whether to start printing team-branded currency.

One anonymous executive muttered, “If we pay Edwards this much, we might have to ask benchwarmers to bring their own uniforms. ”

The drama, of course, doesn’t end at the money.

Rumor has it that when the contract was floated to Edwards, he simply blinked and said, “Cool.

Can I still wear the pink Kobe 6s?”

But behind the jokes, there’s a growing unease among agents, rivals, and, yes, taxpayers—because at this point, nobody is quite sure what the salary cap actually means anymore.

One rival GM reportedly tried to Google “how to enter the luxury tax witness protection program. ”

There’s also speculation that shoe deals, brand sponsorships, and merch sales will now include equity in actual shoe factories.

And don’t even ask about his endorsements—insiders say that with his new paycheck, Edwards could afford to buy the companies sponsoring him and still have enough left over to build a sneaker-shaped yacht.

Of course, Anthony himself has stayed humble—relatively.

Asked about the deal, he told reporters, “I just love hoopin’.

The money’s cool, but I really want that ring. ”

Then he got into a Bentley SUV rumored to be wrapped entirely in vintage Allen Iverson jerseys and drove off blasting Future at a volume that registered on seismographs.

Fans, meanwhile, are reacting in predictable fashion.

Some are thrilled, calling it a deserved reward for one of the league’s brightest stars.

Others are… less generous.

“One million per game? Does he bring his own referee?” one Reddit user posted.

Another added, “I guess every time he dunks, a hedge fund collapses. ”

Social media is awash with memes of Edwards literally printing money from half-court, or shooting free throws while being hand-fed grapes by a butler.

The phrase “Million Dollar Dunk” has already trended twice—and the NBA hasn’t even confirmed the deal yet.

Even LeBron James—usually diplomatic—posted a cryptic tweet: “Sheesh. . . these new contracts different 💼💰. ”

Which in NBA-speak translates to, “I’m calling my agent.

Again. ”

Back in Minnesota, where winters are long and playoff hopes shorter, Timberwolves fans are daring to dream.

“If this is what it takes to keep Ant here, give him the Target Center too,” one said.

“He can rename it The Edwards Arena.

Or Antville.

Whatever. ”

But not everyone’s thrilled.

Salary cap critics are pointing to what they call “NBA inflation on steroids,” warning that smaller market teams will be priced out of contention faster than a post-lockout trade rumor.

And conspiracy theorists (yes, they exist in sports too) are already floating the idea that this entire salary explosion is part of an elaborate Nike-backed plot to reboot Space Jam 3: Cash Court.

Still, no one can deny Edwards’ rise has been meteoric.

From his standout play in the 2023-24 season to leading Team USA and starring in every third viral highlight, the man has become a walking brand—equal parts baller, influencer, and marketing magnet.

Now he might become the human embodiment of inflation.

But here’s the real twist: league insiders whisper that the $345M figure could grow if revenue projections soar higher—meaning we might be entering the era of $100 million-per-year players.

Pause for dramatic effect.

One ESPN producer reportedly fainted mid-segment just hearing the figure.

As for Edwards? Rumor has it he’s already planning a “Million Per Game” merch line, with t-shirts, chains, and a cologne line dubbed “Contract Smell: Millionaire Musk. ”

His team has denied those rumors… but they didn’t sound very convincing.

Meanwhile, retired NBA stars from the 80s and 90s are reportedly forming a support group called “Born Too Early Anonymous. ”

When reached for comment, Charles Barkley sighed, “We used to fight for bonuses.

This kid gets a million to stretch. ”

In the end, this isn’t just about one contract.

It’s about the evolution of the league, the explosion of player value, and the strange, beautiful absurdity of pro sports in 2025.

And it begs one final, unanswerable question:

How many buckets does $1 million really buy?

Only Anthony Edwards knows.

And he’s not telling.

Because apparently, he charges by the sentence now.