Chapter 360: The Age of Great Contention (2)
Popovich’s decision this time actually differed greatly from what had happened in the original timeline.
Back then, the Spurs had been dead set on playing the role of a loyal suitor, determined to preserve their relationship with Leonard at all costs. They even went so far as to let go of Parker, who had clashed with Leonard the year before.
That move alone had subjected the entire Spurs front office to a wave of unified outrage from fans.
They would rather force out a veteran who had served the team for a full seventeen years just for a chance to keep Leonard—only for both men to leave in the end.
Tony Parker had devoted his entire prime to the franchise, sincerely treating the Spurs as his home and repeatedly taking pay cuts for the team’s sake.
Even the highest salary of his career barely exceeded fifteen million.
Losing a player like that was a devastating blow to the Spurs’ long-standing team image.
There were two main reasons behind Parker’s departure. First, the team chose Leonard over him. Second, the Spurs had already stockpiled a group of young guards at the position—Dejounte Murray, Lonnie Walker, Derrick White, and others.
The team only offered Parker the role of third-string point guard and hoped he would gradually transition toward an assistant coaching position.
Parker, however, believed he still had gas left in the tank and refused to accept that role, eventually leaving for Charlotte.
But the current Spurs didn’t have that many guards anymore. Because of CJ’s emergence, the team had abandoned its pursuit of guards at the draft.
As a result, Parker was still a stable second-string point guard.
It was precisely this difference in circumstances that made the Spurs’ desire to keep Leonard far less intense than it had been in the original timeline.
“I understand.”
Buford nodded and rose from his seat.
“Then I’ll take care of it.”
...
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“The inertia of history is still terrifyingly strong. Even though I’ve completely reshaped the league, it still happened in the end.”
Chen Yilun stared at the sports newspaper’s front-page headline and muttered to himself.
He had originally believed that because of his presence, Leonard hadn’t gone through the Zaza Pachulia undercutting incident, and that the Spurs might actually have a chance to keep this two-way super core.
But what was meant to happen still happened.
When he thought about it carefully, it was actually easy to understand.
The core reason Leonard forced his way out of San Antonio had always been his own interests. The undercutting incident and the team doctor controversy were nothing more than triggers.
Leonard wanted a bigger market and more exposure—things San Antonio simply couldn’t provide.
As long as that fundamental issue remained unresolved, Leonard leaving was inevitable.
The only difference was that the current Spurs now occupied a much stronger moral position compared to the original timeline, which would likely give them more leverage in the negotiations that followed.
As Chen Yilun was reading the news, Prince walked in.
“Boss, the people from Gulfstream are here.”
“They’re here? Hurry, let them in.”
Chen Yilun nodded.
With his rising value and frequent travel around the world for work, continuing to squeeze into commercial flights like before would have been an embarrassment for the team.
So, following Ranadivé’s suggestion, Chen Yilun decided to buy a private jet.
As he put it himself:
“I’ve worked my ass off for the team all these years—can’t I enjoy myself a little?”
“Did you see today’s news?”
Chen Yilun casually pointed at the newspaper on the desk.
“Of course I did. The whole league’s talking about it.”
Prince couldn’t help but sigh.
“I thought the Lakers situation was already the peak. Who would’ve thought Leonard would drop another bomb? This offseason is just… I don’t even know what to say anymore.”
“This is actually good news for us.”
Chen Yilun showed little reaction to the Leonard situation—there was even a hint of satisfaction.
Given Popovich’s temperament, he would rather send Leonard to the East than keep him in the West.
Without Leonard, the Spurs would completely lose the ability to compete with them in the West.
And the Kings would be spared one particularly troublesome opponent.
“Go contact McNair again. How long has it been? Booker’s contract still isn’t finalized. Is he even capable or not? If he can’t get it done, tell me—I’ll handle it myself.”
“Alright, I’ll push them again.”
The Kings weren’t exactly calm internally these past few days either. After the Western Conference was turned upside down, quite a few people began worrying about whether they could defend their title and build a dynasty next season.
The team’s morale had started to waver.
Chen Yilun had been running around nonstop. The best way to stabilize the situation was to lock down the key players with contracts.
That was why he was so anxious about Booker’s extension.
After chatting with the Gulfstream staff for a while longer, Chen Yilun finalized the model of the jet and all its interior details.
Private jets were built to order—one plane per order—so even after buying it, they would still have to wait for production.
“This money really disappears fast.”
After seeing off the Gulfstream representatives, Chen Yilun sat in his office, staring at the dense pile of bills and clicking his tongue.
Buying a plane was anything but simple. Crew salaries, air route fees, airport rentals, and all kinds of miscellaneous expenses drained his funds completely.
Not a single drop left.
“You’ve already bought a plane and you’re still saying you’re broke? Isn’t that a bit too much humblebragging?”
As Chen Yilun was doing the math, a slightly flippant voice suddenly rang out.
Gay strolled in lazily. “Boss, you’re already living the good life and you’re still crying poor—people like us would be sobbing ourselves to sleep.”
“Always running your mouth.”
Chen Yilun laughed and gestured for Gay to sit.
“The team atmosphere’s been a bit off lately. You need to pay more attention.”
“I know. It’s no big deal—just normal fluctuations.”
Gay sprawled into his seat. “You called me over just to talk about that?”
“Of course not. I called you over to get paid.”
Chen Yilun rummaged through the messy stack of documents on his desk, finally pulled one out, and handed it to Gay.
“Take a look. I pushed as hard as I could within the team’s framework. Don’t say it’s too little.”
Since Gay’s previous deal was only a 1+1, it was time to sign a new contract.
“Let me see.”
Gay took the contract and flipped straight to the last page.
This extension was as sincere as it got. Chen Yilun had offered a five-year deal outright. The annual salary was around eight million, but considering Gay’s physical decline over the past two years, it was already extremely generous.
“If you went to another team, you could probably get ten million a year. But no one else would give you a contract this long.”
Chen Yilun watched Gay’s expression as he spoke.
A five-year deal essentially locked the remainder of Gay’s career in Sacramento.
By the time the contract ended, it would already be 2023. Even if Gay could still play then, he’d almost certainly be warming the end of the bench.
In that sense, this contract was also compensation for everything Gay had sacrificed for the team over the years.
“Alright. Looks good to me.”
Gay said as he moved to sign.
“Hey, hey, hey!”
Chen Yilun quickly stopped him. “You’re signing it just like that? You’re not even going to take it back and look over the details?”
“What’s there to look at?”
Gay scribbled his name onto the contract. “It’s not like you’d screw me over.”
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