Chapter 259: New Situation (2)
Facing Domantas Sabonis, Durant drew a deep breath. Without hesitation, he hit a quick crossover and shook Sabonis clean off.
Sabonis only saw Durant’s silhouette blur for an instant—by the next second, Durant was already gone from his line of sight.
“So fast!”
Sabonis turned his head just in time to see Durant stepping out of his defensive range and knocking down an easy jumper.
He stared, mouth slightly open. They were roughly the same size, yet the difference in speed was on a completely different level.
On the bench, Griffin shifted uncomfortably and called out to Billy Donovan.
“Coach, let me play!”
But Donovan immediately shook his head.
“You’re not ready yet.”
Griffin was still listed as active and had warmed up with the team before the game, but he had been feeling discomfort in his right knee even before the season started.
Still, he badly wanted to play in the opener.
But Donovan wasn’t giving him that chance. Even though the team doctors hadn’t found an issue after examining him, the coach’s instincts told him to keep Griffin on the bench today.
“Until we know exactly what’s going on, you’re sitting right here.”
Seeing how eager Griffin looked, Donovan couldn’t help shaking his head.
“Greg, I know you’ve been wanting to prove yourself since joining us, but this is just the first game. Keeping you healthy is the most important thing.”
As a decorated NCAA coach, Billy Donovan had always been one of the best in the league when it came to protecting his players’ health.
Just like Malone, he was quietly committed to minimizing injury risks with the current roster.
Watching Griffin’s unwilling expression, Donovan patiently continued,
“It’s not that we don’t want to give you opportunities. It’s because this team really can’t afford any setbacks right now.”
Truth be told, Donovan was stressed about the roster himself.
Thanks to Prestí’s magic in the offseason, the Thunder looked great on paper—but every team had its own problems, and as head coach, he knew them best.
Westbrook and Anthony’s playstyles clashed completely.
Both needed the ball in their hands to be effective.
And this was not the mellow, future Portland-era Anthony who had already made peace with a supporting role.
This Anthony still believed he had plenty left in the tank and wanted to show it.
Then there was Griffin.
He didn’t fight for shot attempts, sure—but he had a different problem.
Years of playing with Chris Paul had spoiled him. When you spend so long catching perfect passes from a historically elite playmaker, anyone would get used to being fed.
So Griffin’s biggest issue now was his high standards for pass quality.
If a pass wasn’t precise enough, he’d feel uncomfortable and the play would break down.
The awkward part?
His partner now was Westbrook—who was not exactly known for passing accuracy.
During practices, many turnovers happened simply because Westbrook’s passes weren’t on target.
Everything still needed work.
Donovan watched the court, thoughts swirling.
Even after a whole summer together, the Thunder were still suffering from constant miscommunications.
Booker shook his defender and knocked down an easy three, and Donovan immediately called the first timeout of the game.
“This doesn’t seem too hard,” Booker said, taking the towel LeVert handed him and wiping off sweat.
“Don’t get cocky,” Bartley said as he sat beside him.
“They’re just not in sync yet. Once they figure things out later this season, they’ll be a huge obstacle to us defending our title.”
...
While the season opener was heating up, Chen Yilun wasn’t courtside watching the game.
He was standing inside a factory, frowning at the object in front of him.
“The color’s still not right.”
Chen Yilun pointed at the championship banner.
“I told you clearly—this purple needs to be lighter, but also more vibrant.”
The staff member beside him tilted his head, mouth hanging open, unable to respond.
“Boss…”
Peja, standing nearby, cast a sympathetic glance at the worker drenched in sweat.
As expected, people always turn into what they once hated.
Back when Chen Yilun was the contractor, he’d curse out his clients.
Now that he was the client, he was returning the favor.
“Lighter but also brighter”—how was anyone supposed to interpret that?
Was that even something a carbon-based lifeform could articulate?
“This one’s fine,” Peja said. “The banner’s going up on the ceiling. No one’s going to see the details from that far. No need to make things complicated. Plus, we’re short on time.”
As he spoke, he frantically signaled to the staffer to back him up.
The worker was still too stunned to react, but the company owner stepped forward holding something framed in glass.
“Yeah, Boss Chen, let’s just go with this version.”
He slipped the frame into Chen Yilun’s hands.
“What’s this?”
Inside the glass frame was a miniature Kings championship banner.
“Oh, just a little souvenir,” the owner said with a laugh.
“This is the prototype we made before producing the actual banner. Same materials, all scaled down. There’s only one of these in the world. No use keeping it here, so we’re giving it to you as a keepsake.”
Chen Yilun raised his eyebrows slightly.
“True, no point leaving it here.”
He slid the frame into his briefcase.
“Alright, that’s settled. Pack up the banner and send it to our place. So many things to handle…”
After chatting a bit more, Chen Yilun and Peja left the factory.
“Where to next?”
In the van, Chen Yilun fiddled with the small banner.
“Back to the team,” Peja reminded softly.
“The rings are ready for your signature, and you need to approve the fan gifts for the home opener.”
…
Author's Note
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