Chapter 344: The Stairway to Heaven (2)
“As long as Malone and I stay put, the team’s front office won’t fall apart.”
Chen Yilun said this partly to reassure Ranadivé, and partly to pledge his loyalty. After all, he understood better than anyone the danger of overshadowing the boss.
To put it bluntly, within the organization right now, Chen Yilun’s words carried more weight than Ranadivé’s.
Hearing this, Ranadivé gave Chen Yilun a long, meaningful look.
“Then I can rest easy. There are some things I can’t personally get involved in—just go ahead and do what you think is right. As long as you’re still in Sacramento, I’ll back you every single day.”
As if recalling something else, Ranadivé added,
“Anjali has developed quite well over the past two years. If there’s a suitable position later on, give her more responsibility.”
“Understood.”
Chen Yilun nodded, glanced at his watch, and said,
“Well, boss, I’ve still got a ton of things to deal with, so I’ll—”
“Go on, get busy.”
Watching Chen Yilun walk away, Ranadivé smiled with a hint of intrigue.
“Trying to take Adam Silver’s power, huh?”
He muttered to himself.
“Interesting. This Chen Yilun is really interesting.”
Even though he had already delegated authority, there was no way Ranadivé didn’t know what Chen Yilun was doing.
And honestly, he was more than happy to see it happen.
After all, no matter how much Chen Yilun ran around and schemed, the ultimate beneficiary would still be the Kings. With that in mind, why would he interfere?
While the people at the top all had their own hidden agendas, the game on the court had already begun.
This game, the Kings came fully prepared.
There was no letting Durant freeload and take shots at will early on. Instead, they played steady, methodical basketball, step by step.
Using their strongest weapon—the half-court offense—they slowly wore down the Celtics.
“Derrick, Greg! Get ready to check in!”
Malone shouted loudly toward the bench.
Rose, who had been watching from the sidelines, heard his name and sprang to his feet.
“Hey, hey, hey! Your pants!”
Oden shouted from behind him.
Only then did Rose realize he’d gotten ahead of himself—he’d forgotten to take off his warmup pants.
“Who would’ve thought?”
Standing near the scorer’s table, Oden said with a sigh,
“We’re really about to win a championship together.”
The No. 1 picks of the ’07 and ’08 drafts—two former prodigies once hailed as chosen ones—were now about to share the court.
“That’s fate for you.”
Rose said the words casually, but his eyes were locked firmly on the action.
“I never thought I’d get a championship either.”
“Got your tweet ready yet?”
Oden joked.
“I spent days thinking about what to post when I won.”
“No need for Twitter.”
Rose shook his head.
“Victory is the only thing that matters. I just want to win.”
Once on the court, Rose brought the ball across half court. Defending him was Marcus Smart, the Celtics’ young prospect they were heavily grooming.
Now in his fourth year, Smart had gradually grown into the team’s perimeter defensive anchor. Even so, facing Rose still made him uneasy.
“He’s coming!”
Rose suddenly exploded forward. Without slowing down, he hit a sharp change of direction and blew right past Smart.
Then, under the contest of Aron Baynes in the paint, he finished an easy layup.
“So this is D. Rose?”
Watching Rose jog back on defense, Smart scratched his head.
“How is he still this fast?”
The Celtics were known in the East for their balanced roster and deep bench—but when it came to depth, who could really compare to the Kings right now?
“Don’t get discouraged.”
Danny Ainge, who had traveled with the team, quietly comforted Coach Stevens on the sideline.
“We’ve got plenty of future to fight for. One season’s result doesn’t matter.”
After so many years as a general manager, Danny Ainge’s perspective had long moved beyond individual games—or even single seasons.
He had only ever had one goal: the championship.
For that goal, he could trade away franchise icons like Pierce and Garnett. He could even abandon Isaiah Thomas, who had risked his career for the team.
Everything was for the championship.
But in this year’s Finals, Ainge had already seen the Kings’ overwhelming strength. His thoughts were now focused on the years ahead.
While Ainge and the Celtics had effectively accepted this Finals loss, Irving on the court hadn’t.
He still fought for every possession, desperately trying to find a crack in the Kings’ rhythm.
But where was the opening?
The Kings had complete control of the pace. Every struggle was destined to end in futility.
As the clock kept ticking, the Kings maintained a double-digit lead. After Irving’s final three-point attempt clanged off the rim, just over thirty seconds remained—and the Celtics were still down by more than ten.
The Kings inbounded the ball. Irving immediately reached in and fouled Rose, sending him to the line.
Rose stood at the free-throw line and calmly knocked down both shots. Any remaining suspense vanished.
During the free throws, Coach Stevens subbed out all his starters—waving the white flag.
Irving trudged back to the bench, took the towel a teammate handed him, draped it over his head, and lowered his gaze.
“Beep!”
The buzzer sounded its final wail, and the entire Golden 1 Center exploded into a sea of celebration.
“We won! We won!”
A white-haired elderly fan waved his jersey, tears streaming down his face.
“We’re champions! We’re still champions!”
Rose didn’t join the others in celebrating. He stood motionless on the court, staring up at the golden confetti raining down from the rafters.
A tear slid uncontrollably from the corner of his right eye.
“So this is what a championship feels like?”
Rose murmured to himself.
In his mind, he was suddenly back on the street courts of Chicago. He was thirteen years old, having just won his first community tournament.
His three older brothers stood on the sidelines in streetwear, while his mother and family cheered him on.
It all felt like yesterday.
And yet, it had been so long ago.
The years of hardship and wandering had long crushed his already fragile heart. Earlier this season, he had even thought about retiring.
But none of that mattered anymore.
He had finally won that damn championship.
All the suffering now felt trivial.
“Boss!”
Butler rushed over and wrapped Rose in a tight hug.
“Congratulations! You’ve got a ring now!”
Holding Butler, Rose smiled with simple, honest joy.
“Yeah. I’ve got a ring.”
“We really walked a long road to get here.”
......
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“Boss, what are you doing?”
After celebrating for ages, Prince suddenly realized Chen Yilun was missing. After searching for a while, he finally found him lurking in a corner of the court.
“You don’t know shit.”
Chen Yilun glanced around suspiciously, then suddenly shouted behind Prince,
“Get Tayshaun! He hasn’t enjoyed it yet!”
“What the hell?”
Prince turned around in confusion, only to see a massive plastic container nearly as tall as a person.
The next instant, orange sports drink mixed with ice dumped straight over Prince’s head.
Chen Yilun, who had known exactly what was coming, had already retreated far away.
“Trying to ruin my suit? Dream on!”
He muttered slyly while adjusting his clothes and strolling along the sideline.
Looking up at the old and new championship banners hanging above the arena, Chen Yilun spoke boldly,
“I’ve brought you another brother!”
“Yilun! Yilun!”
He turned his head and saw Mike Breen from ESPN standing courtside.
“Congratulations, Yilun. You’ve won another championship.”
Without any pleasantries, Mike Breen went straight to the point.
“Do you have anything you’d like to say to the Kings fans? How do you feel right now?”
After a brief moment of thought, Chen Yilun looked into the camera and said,
“This one’s for Sacramento—for every Kings fan who believed. We climbed all the way to the top together.”
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