Chapter 224: The Night Before the Finals
The streets of Sacramento were alive with restless excitement, even deep into the night.
“You still drinking, old man? Don’t you have work tomorrow?”
Inside The Pump bar—usually quiet on a weekday—the place was packed. A slightly overweight middle-aged man tilted his head back and downed his glass of beer in one go.
“Work? Hell no. Game 1’s tomorrow. I’m taking the day off and watching it at home.”
He let out a long burp, wiping the foam from his mouth with his sleeve.
“I’ve watched the Kings for so many years. No way I’m missing something like this.”
After decades of professional sports shaping the city, basketball had become deeply ingrained in Sacramento’s everyday life. This was the first time the Kings had ever reached the Finals.
Their last championship came way back in 1951—when they were still called the Rochester Royals.
1951! Think about that!
“World War II had barely ended, and the Korean War was still raging.”
So, to the people of Sacramento, that old title didn’t really count as their championship. This time, everyone was hoping to witness a victory that truly belonged to Sacramento.
“If you ask me,”
a young man nearby suddenly chimed in,
“this series isn’t even gonna be close. You think the Cavaliers can stop us?”
His words drew cheers and raised glasses from the crowd.
“Youngsters these days,”
an old man with graying hair chuckled from a corner table.
He sipped his beer slowly, a faint smile in his eyes as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Fans of every generation had their own way of reacting to the approaching Finals—but one thing was the same for everyone: they all couldn’t wait for it to begin.
“It’s a pity Chen moved away,” the middle-aged fan muttered as he poured himself another drink. “Otherwise, we’d still see him here sometimes.”
As the saying goes, the speaker may not mean much, but the listener surely does. The young fan who’d been cheering earlier froze, his eyes wide.
“Chen? You mean our team’s President of Basketball Operations—Chen Yilun?”
The middle-aged man leaned back, clearly enjoying the younger man’s admiration.
“Who else? You’re just late to the party. Ask any of the regulars here—everyone’s had a drink with Chen Yilun at some point.”
He pulled out his phone and proudly showed a photo of himself with Chen Yilun.
“Back when Chen was still the GM, he lived in an apartment nearby. He’d drop by here all the time to drink and hang out. Those were some good times. Too bad he got promoted and moved away. Otherwise, you might’ve run into him yourself.”
The young fan stared at the photo, full of envy.
“What a shame! If I’d known, I would’ve moved into this neighborhood earlier!”
...
Clink!
Amber whiskey poured into a crystal glass. The ice cubes inside slid and tapped softly against the rim.
Chen Yilun stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding the whiskey he’d gotten from Malone, admiring the glowing nightscape of Sacramento.
Lately, this had become his nightly ritual—one strong drink before bed, just enough to quiet the mind.
Without realizing it, Chen had begun to resemble his old mentor—steady, composed, and calm.
He wasn’t particularly worried about tomorrow’s game.
Thanks to his and Malone’s careful management, the rotation was healthy and intact.
If they still lost to the Cavaliers with this lineup,
Malone might as well pack up and take a dive in the Sacramento River.
After finishing his drink and one last look at the city lights, Chen sat back down at his desk.
Winning the championship was the team’s top priority, but as the President of Basketball Operations, he had plenty of other work to handle.
“How should I deal with this…”
He rubbed his temples, staring at the endless rows of numbers and names on his laptop.
This offseason was going to be a busy one.
Even just the contract renewals were enough to give him a headache.
Both CJ and Jokić’s contracts were expiring, and Bojan’s rookie deal was also up. But Bojan’s case was a bit different.
Chen had brought him over from the Nets during the 2014–15 season, meaning he’d only played two and a half seasons for the Kings.
That meant Chen didn’t hold his Bird rights—only Early Bird rights.
And after Bojan’s breakout season, several teams had already started showing interest. From what Chen had heard, at least three were preparing offers this summer.
Then there were Rudy Gay and Ben—two more contracts to sort out.
Gay’s 2+1 deal was on an escalating structure, and after this season, the team held a player option. But ever since Durant’s arrival, Gay’s role had shrunk. He’d become more of a second-unit spark.
Naturally, the team wouldn’t pick up that final $14 million year.
Still, Chen planned to offer him a veteran’s deal out of respect.
As for Ben, with the team’s growth, he’d fallen out of the rotation entirely—basically the water boy now. Whether he’d stay or not would depend on roster space this summer.
Chen stroked his chin thoughtfully.
After all, Gay was the team’s locker room leader. As management, Chen knew he owed the veteran enough respect—especially since Gay had been the one holding the locker room together, keeping team chemistry steady.
Both sentimentally and logically, Gay deserved to stay.
“If CJ and Bojan leave, it might be time to call up some of the G League kids,” Chen murmured, smiling faintly.
“Now, who should come up first…”
Looking through the G League roster, Chen once again felt the sweet frustration of abundance.
“Dejounte Murray and Caris LeVert,” he decided after a brief pause.
As for their first-rounder Pascal Siakam, he’d stay in the G League a bit longer—building chemistry with Fred VanVleet and Alex Caruso.
Then there was the upcoming draft.
Since the Heat made the playoffs, their first-round pick had slid to 17th. The Suns’ second-rounder landed at 32nd, and the 76ers’ second-rounder at 46th.
So now, Chen held three picks: 17, 32, and 46.
He wouldn’t use them all—there wasn’t room on the roster—but the picks still carried decent trade value.
It wasn’t a star-studded draft year, but it wasn’t a weak one either.
After finishing his work, Chen leaned back, stretched, and glanced at the dark sky outside.
Three years of hard work, patience, and careful planning—
Tomorrow would finally show what it was all worth.
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