"Chris Paul drives in! Going right! Danny Green can't catch him! Duncan steps up to help! No time left!"
"He's pulling up over Duncan? The shot's good!!!!"
"The Point God! He's killed the Spurs!"
Staples Center erupted, the roar crashing out like an endless tidal wave.
Wearing a mask in the stands, Chen Yilun quietly witnessed a shot destined for the history books.
Without greeting any of his former colleagues, Chen Yilun had slipped in to watch the game alone—and left just as silently.
The silver-and-black king, once ruling from his throne, had been brought down from his pedestal.
Even the NBA commentators on-site couldn't hold back their shouts.
"It's over! This year's Finals are over!"
Everyone believed that once the Clippers toppled the Spurs, the championship was already theirs.
But in San Francisco, unnoticed by all, a blue-and-gold giant stretched lazily and gazed at the now-vacant throne.
"Drama, pure drama. This year's playoffs really have too many classic moments."
Already on vacation, Malone had dragged Chen Yilun out for breakfast. He was engrossed in a freshly printed basketball paper.
"You dragged me out early in the morning just for this?"
Across from him, Chen Yilun yawned nonstop, listlessly stirring his coffee.
"Look, the Clippers are done again."
After finishing the paper, Malone handed it over with a sigh.
"I thought after that dagger against the Spurs, the title was in their pocket. But now? Embarrassing."
"That's… a good one."
Chen Yilun forced his eyes open to look at the headlines.
Even with his own presence as an unstable factor, the wheel of history still rolled forward on its original path.
After beating the Spurs, the Clippers faced the Rockets, who had knocked out the Kings, in the second round.
Up 3–1, Paul went down with another injury. The Rockets, united as one, stormed back with three straight wins to take the series.
It became the defining moment of the Rockets' famous "Headband Gang."
It was also the ninth time in NBA history that a team had come back from a 1–3 deficit. And poor Coach Doc Rivers etched his name in history as the first coach ever to blow a 3–1 lead twice.
Truly one of a kind.
"What the hell's with Doc Rivers? After all that, teams still want him as their head coach?"
After a sip of coffee, Chen Yilun finally voiced what countless fans were wondering.
"Have you surfed online too much and fried your brain?"
Malone stared at him in disbelief. "You're a professional, and you ask something that shallow?"
"I don't know the guy personally. Just curious."
Realizing Chen Yilun was serious, Malone dropped the jokes and explained.
"First, Rivers has the résumé. He's a thousand-win coach—not just from longevity, either. His career win percentage is over 50%. Outside of your old man and Spoelstra, no one else can match that. He's not some empty figurehead. The guy knows his tactics."
"Second, even if he's not a tactical genius, his control of the locker room is unmatched. Players respect him everywhere he goes. A lot of times, handling players is more important than drawing plays."
"Those two things alone make him one of the league's hottest commodities."
Malone looked at him. "Got it now?"
"Got it!"
Chen Yilun nodded quickly.
"Who do you think takes the championship this year?" Malone asked suddenly.
The Conference Finals were about to begin—Hawks vs. Cavaliers in the East, Warriors vs. Rockets in the West.
"Golden State, for sure!"
Chen Yilun didn't even hesitate. That was a no-brainer.
"So certain? Not gonna support your senior brother?" Malone chuckled.
Of the four remaining coaches, two were Chen Yilun's fellow disciples. Steve Kerr with the Warriors was obvious. But Hawks head coach Mike Budenholzer was Popovich's very first disciple.
Budenholzer had spent nearly 20 years as an assistant under Popovich and was recognized as the strongest within the Spurs system beneath the old man himself.
"Forget the Hawks. No way they're getting past LeBron."
Chen Yilun frowned after a sip of coffee and dropped in another spoon of sugar.
"I think the Cavaliers have a real shot," Malone mused. "LeBron's dominance is just too much."
"Wanna bet on it?"
Hearing Chen Yilun's suggestion, Malone's eyes lit up.
"What's the bet?"
Seeing him take the bait, Chen Yilun held back his grin.
"Last time I was at your place, I saw a nearly 30-year-old whiskey in your liquor cabinet. Let's bet on that!"
Malone burst out laughing.
"So that's why your eyes kept wandering at dinner last time. You were drooling over my whiskey. Fine! If you lose, you owe me a bottle of the same class."
"It's a deal!"
...
...
"￥#...%&*!"
In Malone's apartment, the usually refined coach was now spewing trash talk at the big screen.
On it, Curry beamed as he accepted the Larry O'Brien Trophy, the symbol of ultimate glory. Golden State's long-awaited fourth championship—after 40 years—was finally real.
"Admit defeat! No excuses!"
Chen Yilun's voice rang out from across the room.
Malone turned, struck speechless with rage.
The moment the Warriors clinched, Chen Yilun had already slipped to his liquor cabinet, fiddling with the glass cover.
"Hands off! Got a key, or are you just pawing at it?"
"Haha!"
Chen Yilun hugged the precious bottle, grinning like an idiot on Malone's sofa.
"That's all you've got."
Malone shook his head in confusion. By all rights, Chen Yilun made good money and wasn't usually stingy.
So why did he enjoy taking advantage of him like this?
After a round of roughhousing, Chen Yilun grabbed the bottle and prepared to leave.
"Not staying for dinner?"
"Nope!"
He waved him off. "Vacation's over. Time for a good night's sleep—back to work tomorrow."
...
Get early access (40 chapters ahead) plus other series available only on P@treon
[email protected]/GhostParser