Chapter 386: Preparing for the Finale
“Shameless. Absolutely shameless!”
Chen Yilun stared at the report in front of him, completely at a loss for words.
With the current Western Conference standings, even someone who barely watched basketball could tell something was off.
The Kings were still sitting firmly in first place in the West, with the Warriors following closely behind in second.
But third place belonged to the Portland Trail Blazers.
Sure, the new generation of Portland Double Guns had been playing with flair and had become one of the league’s more talked-about regular-season pairings. But for them to suppress two of the hottest teams in the league—the Warriors and the Rockets?
If you said there was no funny business involved, no one would believe it.
And yet, the league remained wrapped in an eerie calm, without the slightest ripple.
“Just take it step by step for now.”
Sitting across from him, Ranadivé didn’t look much better.
“Don’t throw ourselves into chaos. Let them do whatever they want.”
As he spoke, Ranadivé glanced at Chen Yilun, a trace of embarrassment on his face.
“Bear with it for now. You’ve been treated unfairly too.”
The moment Chen Yilun heard that, he understood.
Chances were, Ranadivé had already reached some sort of tacit understanding with the league. As for what benefits he had squeezed out of them in return, Chen Yilun didn’t know—and couldn’t be bothered to ask.
All he knew was that he and the Kings had ended up as sacrifices in the tug-of-war between the owner and the league.
“I know this doesn’t sit well with you, but it’s all for the team’s future.”
Seeing Chen Yilun’s blank expression, Ranadivé felt a bit uneasy.
“You know as well as I do—once this season ends, Kevin and Jimmy are very likely to leave. I have to plan ahead for what comes next.”
Ranadivé’s meaning was clear enough.
If Durant and Butler couldn’t be kept this summer, the team would lose its two biggest ticket-sellers.
While the Kings’ younger players were already starting to take over on the court, when it came to commercial value, neither Jokić nor Booker—the players the team was currently pushing—could compare to those two veterans.
That was why Ranadivé had been so anxious about the team’s profitability next season, worried that his income would take a hit.
Chen Yilun understood those concerns perfectly.
From an owner’s perspective, results on the court weren’t the top priority—making money was.
The reason Chen Yilun had been able to wield so much influence in Sacramento over the past two years was largely because, while building a dynasty-level roster, he had kept the payroll firmly below the second luxury-tax apron.
That alone had saved Ranadivé from paying massive luxury taxes year after year.
Chen Yilun took a deep breath.
“It’s fine. If that’s how they want to play it, let them. I talked to Kevin a couple of days ago—he doesn’t have any objections either.”
Ranadivé raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, and shot Chen Yilun a look.
In his memory, Chen Yilun was the type who counted every penny. The fact that he wasn’t already pointing at his nose and cursing him out was, by his standards, restraint.
What was going on today? Had he taken his blood pressure meds?
“Don’t look at me like that,”
Chen Yilun said, waving his hand.
“I just don’t think it’s worth it. Let them do whatever they want. But I’ll say this upfront—choosing not to expose them this season is already us showing maximum restraint. Once the games start, whether it’s the arena or the referees, if I catch even the slightest hint of underhanded moves, don’t blame me for flipping the table and going to war with the league.”
“That’s a given!”
Ranadivé slapped his thigh and stood up.
“I’m already showing enough sportsmanship by not asking the refs to favor us. If I see anything off, you won’t even need to say a word—I’ll flip the table with you!”
“Good.”
Chen Yilun stood up and saw Ranadivé out. As he turned back, the wrist beneath his shirt cuff caught the light—a string of prayer beads faintly visible.
The beads had been given to him by his mother when he went home for New Year’s last year. She’d gotten them from a temple, supposedly blessed and very effective.
Chen Yilun had originally been too lazy to wear something like that, but he couldn’t withstand his mother’s nagging and ended up bringing them back to North America anyway.
After everything that had happened over the past few days, he’d dug the beads out from the corner of his suitcase and put them on again.
Despite all the bold talk, Chen Yilun still felt a bit uneasy about the playoffs ahead.
After all, what awaited him was wave after wave of the league’s top teams closing in. Even with him and Malone deliberately managing and protecting the roster, the Kings’ competitiveness had remained steady.
But the playoffs were a long grind, and uncontrollable factors could strike at any moment—enough to destroy an entire season’s worth of effort.
In the end, Chen Yilun could only place his hopes in something as intangible as prayer beads, using them as a source of psychological comfort.
...
As time passed, the regular season finally drew to a close.
“The playoff matchups are out!”
Prince came jogging into Chen Yilun’s office.
“All done already? Let me see.”
Chen Yilun looked up from the stack of documents on his desk, took off his glasses, wiped them, and accepted the file Prince handed over.
The Eastern Conference standings were:
First: Boston Celtics
Second: Milwaukee Bucks
Third: Toronto Raptors
Fourth: Philadelphia 76ers
Fifth: Indiana Pacers
Sixth: Detroit Pistons
Seventh: Orlando Magic
Eighth: Miami Heat
“All pretty much as expected.”
Chen Yilun glanced over the East. It matched his memories almost exactly. Unless something unexpected happened, the Finals spot would come down to the Celtics, Bucks, or Raptors.
“The West is more troublesome,”
Prince said with a frown.
The Western Conference standings were:
First: Sacramento Kings
Second: Los Angeles Lakers
Third: Portland Trail Blazers
Fourth: Houston Rockets
Fifth: Golden State Warriors
Sixth: Minnesota Timberwolves
Seventh: New Orleans Pelicans
Eighth: San Antonio Spurs
“The Spurs dropped to eighth?”
Chen Yilun frowned as soon as he saw it.
“Over the final two game days, the teams fighting for position all went all out and shoved the Spurs down to eighth,”
Prince said, scratching his head.
This was a tough situation for the Kings. There was a very real chance that every round of the playoffs would pit them against extremely battle-hardened opponents.
“Why worry about it now?”
Chen Yilun tossed the report back to Prince.
“What’s done is done. Whoever comes—we’ll take them all.”
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