"Antetokounmpo drives inside! He shrugs off Gay with ease and slams it down!"
Malone watched Giannis Antetokounmpo tearing the defense apart. "How is he this unstoppable?"
This season, Giannis had already started bulking up, showing the early signs of the Greek Freak who would one day dominate the league.
Chen Yilun sat courtside in a sharp suit, quietly studying the game.
When he had just reincarnated, his team-building plan had revolved around choosing between Giannis and Jokić. Both would become generational players, but the problem was their styles of play simply didn't fit together.
Building a superteam was never about blindly stacking the best players at every position. It was about maximizing each player's strengths.
If those two had really ended up on the same team, the likely outcomes would have been either Giannis taking the lead while Jokić was reduced to a high-end version of Brook Lopez, or Jokić becoming the centerpiece while Giannis turned into an upgraded Aaron Gordon.
That was why, in the end, Chen Yilun chose Jokić and passed on Giannis.
"Greg! Get ready. Next dead ball, you're going in. Shut Giannis down! Don't let him get rolling again!"
Malone barked at Oden.
"Got it!" Oden grunted, nodding before peeling off his warmups.
Malone nodded in approval as he looked at Oden's massive frame.
On this roster, Oden was the definition of a workhorse. After years of bouncing around the league, he really valued this opportunity. He did whatever the coach asked—no complaints, no ego.
Best of all, Oden's contract was dirt cheap. At the end of this season, the team still had Early Bird rights, meaning they could lock him up for at least four more years.
Oden was 27 now, with two years left on his current deal. Add in the extension they could offer this offseason, and they could keep him under team control until he was 33—right through the prime years of a big man's career.
That thought made Malone suddenly turn to Chen Yilun.
"If we extend Oden early this year, what kind of price are we looking at?"
"Huh?"
Chen Yilun, distracted on his phone, hadn't expected Malone to call on him. He quickly pocketed it, paused to think, then replied.
"Oden signed last year—three years, $12 million. After this season, there's a team option. With Early Bird rights this offseason, we can extend him early. The rule is... theoretically, the annual salary can't be lower than the full mid-level exception. But in Oden's case, there's another option: we can base it on 175% of his previous salary. That comes out to $7 million per year."
"League rules say we have to pick whichever is higher. But if we go with the 175% formula, we'll have more flexibility."
"Seven million? So about $28 million over four years?"
Malone froze. "That cheap?"
It wasn't that Malone was stingy—it was just that the contract that "8+8 guy" signed this offseason was so outrageous it had warped his sense of money.
"No way it's just $28 million!"
Chen Yilun rolled his eyes. "Even if the league let it slide, the players' union would never agree. Once you add in subsidies, performance bonuses, and attendance incentives, it'll definitely be north of $30 million."
"That's still a steal!"
Malone rubbed his hands together eagerly. "A deal like that, you could sign blindfolded and still come out ahead!"
"Don't get too excited just yet."
Seeing Malone so fired up, Chen Yilun cooled him down.
"This year, Ben and CJ are both in the third year of their rookie contracts. Time for early extensions. Ben has full Bird rights, CJ has Early Bird rights. We need to factor in both of their contracts. And next year, Jokić is up for renewal too."
Chen Yilun ticked them off on his fingers.
"Not to mention LaVine—whether we trade him or keep him, his value won't be anywhere near today's number next year."
As he listened, Malone's excitement faded.
"So what you're saying is, our window is already tight?"
"Exactly. By next year at the latest, we need results. We've got to show the owner real hope—only then can we take a shot at pushing into the luxury tax and building a title roster."
There was a league-wide consensus: Paying the luxury tax doesn't guarantee a championship, but every championship team pays it.
That may sound exaggerated, but since the luxury tax was introduced, only a few champions have managed to stay under the line.
In fact, just three teams.
The 2005 Miami Heat, led by Dwyane Wade still on his rookie deal.
The 2014 Spurs, with the Big Three all taking pay cuts and Kawhi Leonard still on his rookie contract.
And last year's Warriors, with Stephen Curry still playing on a bargain rookie-scale deal.
All three had one thing in common: their core stars were either on rookie deals or on heavily discounted contracts for unique reasons.
In short, those were outliers—uncertain and impossible to replicate. Not exactly useful reference points.
Even the gritty Pistons of 2004, when they shocked the league and won the title, paid a hefty luxury tax bill.
"We'd better move fast."
Malone's good mood was gone now.
"And the league is changing."
Chen Yilun added another splash of cold water. "Just look at Giannis. If he stays healthy over the next couple of years, he's going to become a massive problem for us."
"Right now, we look like the challengers. But the league never stands still. We're improving, sure—but so is everyone else. Even while we're still challengers, new challengers are already lining up to take us down!"