"You need financial support? How much are we talking about?" Ranadivé's smile faded as he took a slow sip from his teacup.
"About $8 million," Jake replied after weighing the situation. Eight million in 2015 wasn't like the inflated contracts of the future, where deals worth over $20 million were commonplace. At the time, the league's luxury tax threshold was only $76.829 million. Gay's $19.32 million contract and Cousins' $13.7 million salary were already eating up a significant chunk of the Kings' cap space. Gay, in particular, had exercised his player option, saddling the Kings with his massive deal in the last year of his contract. By comparison, Kevin Love was making only $15.72 million with the Cavaliers.
"Is this the result of a previous management mistake?" Ranadivé mused, understanding the burden Gay's contract had placed on the team. The trade for Gay had occurred before Jake's time, so it made sense that he would now seek assistance to rectify the situation.
"Can we trade Gay?" Ranadivé asked, his small, dark eyes narrowing as he considered the possibility.
"I wish," Jake responded with a wry smile. "But who's going to take on that contract? It's not like we can just get rid of him for free. No team's going to pay $20 million just to have Gay sitting around. Other general managers aren't fools. If we try to trade him, they'll pick us clean."
Ranadivé nodded, deep in thought. After a few moments, he spoke again. "Alright, I'll approve the $8 million, but you have to ensure that we maintain our profitability next season. If the team keeps up this momentum, the investment will be worth it." He paused, then smiled slyly at Jake. "Go ahead. Surprise me again."
Satisfied with the result, Jake didn't hesitate to promise, "Trust me, boss. If everything goes according to plan, in two years I'll give you a championship-contending team."
As he left Ranadivé's office, the familiar cold, mechanical voice of the system echoed in his mind once more.
"Congratulations, host. You have completed the task of achieving five consecutive wins at the start of the season. Your reward is now available. Would you like to draw your prize?"
"Draw!" Jake immediately responded, eyeing the primary enhancement gift package floating before him in the void. A flash of white light followed.
"Ding! Congratulations, you have received the 'Health Recovery Card.'"
The card's description appeared before him: Restores a player's health to optimal levels. The effect is permanent once activated.
Jake's mind raced with possibilities. This card could save players plagued by injuries, offering them a fresh start. He began to consider all the talented players in the league whose careers had been derailed by injuries. With this card, he could grant them a second chance.
Before he could dwell on it further, the system's voice interrupted his thoughts once again.
"New tasks have been updated."
Ordinary task: Make a trade during the season, with a trade rating of A+.
Reward: Random silver badge.
Challenge task: Ensure at least two players from your team make the All-Star lineup this season.
Reward: Intermediate enhancement package.
Challenge task: Lead the Kings to the playoffs.
Reward: Top enhancement package + random badge.
Challenge task: Become the NBA's Best General Manager for the 2014-2015 season.
Reward: Ace Manager badge.
The new tasks aligned perfectly with his strategy, and Jake felt a renewed sense of purpose. Without wasting any more time, he dialed Raptors general manager Masai Ujiri. The moment Ujiri picked up the phone, he didn't even let Jake speak.
"No sale! No price! No sale!" Ujiri barked.
"Wait, wait!" Jake exclaimed. "I haven't even said anything yet!"
"I don't care what it is—you're not getting anything out of me!" Ujiri chuckled, twirling a pen between his fingers. "I know what you're after. You want us to take Gay back, don't you? Not happening. Gay wouldn't even fetch me a draft pick now."
Jake cursed internally. He had been caught. Ujiri, known for his sharp deals, had shipped Gay to the Kings in a move that had yielded a treasure trove of assets for the Raptors. Jake had hoped to reverse the trade, but Ujiri was too savvy for that.
"So, there's no room for negotiation?" Jake pressed.
"Unless you're offering Cousins or CJ, don't even bother. No one else on your roster interests me."
It was true that Cousins and CJ were the Kings' best assets. Gay, once their top scorer, had been relegated to a tertiary role under Coach Malone's system, which favored efficiency and ball movement. His isolation-heavy midrange game was no longer effective in Sacramento.
"Alright, what about Mozgov?" Jake offered, pivoting to a new plan.
"Mozgov?" Ujiri stopped fiddling with his pen. "Now that's something I'm willing to hear more about."
The Raptors, having built their team around Lowry and DeRozan after last year's Gay trade, were looking to solidify their roster for a deeper playoff push. But standing in their way was the towering obstacle of the Cleveland Cavaliers, a team led by LeBron James.
In the face of the Cavaliers' "Big Three," the Raptors' lineup wasn't strong enough. Under Coach Malone's guidance, Mozgov, acting as a defensive anchor in the paint, was averaging 8.8 points and 12.2 rebounds per game. Though it was still early in the season and the numbers might be slightly inflated, Mozgov had the potential to become a top blue-collar interior player.
"What do you want in exchange for Mozgov?" Ujiri asked cautiously. Bringing Mozgov on board would be a significant boost for the Raptors' lineup. With a player like Mozgov patrolling the paint, even the Cavaliers would have to think twice before attacking the basket.
"Not much, not much," Jake replied, voice crackling through the phone. "Just give me Valanciunas, and we'll add a little something to sweeten the deal."
"Valanciunas? And you want more?" Ujiri's head throbbed as Jake's words echoed through the phone. Valanciunas had solidified his role as the Raptors' starting center after breaking into the lineup last season. He was now a cornerstone of the team.
"You want to trade Mozgov for Valanciunas? No way!" Ujiri snapped. "At least give me something more, like Ben McLemore or a first-rounder. Otherwise, don't even bother calling me."
"You want Ben?" Jake's frustration boiled over. "That's impossible! Absolutely not!"
The conversation ended on a sour note, with both parties hanging up abruptly. When two sides come to the table with self-serving intentions, it's no surprise when negotiations break down.
But Jake hadn't truly expected to make a deal with Ujiri. Of course, if he could upgrade Mozgov to Valanciunas, he'd be thrilled, but Ujiri was no fool. The real purpose of the call was to send a message to the rest of the league: the Kings were open for business, and teams with trade ideas were welcome to reach out. It would be far too exhausting for Jake to cold-call every team himself, so he wanted to create a buzz and see what offers came his way.
Before long, rumors spread that the Kings were looking to make moves. While no specific names were mentioned, players like Mozgov, Casspi, and several bench pieces started to pop up in trade discussions around the league.
Meanwhile, Jake wasn't in Sacramento. He had boarded a plane for New York, with two key goals in mind. First, he intended to meet with the Nets and Knicks, two teams struggling mightily and looking for any opportunity to escape their respective slumps. Maybe there was a chance to acquire some undervalued assets. The second reason, however, was the most important: Jake was going to meet someone.
New York in November had already entered the icy grip of winter. Jake tightened his coat against the cold as he hurried through the streets, following his map closely until he arrived at his destination—a player rehabilitation center.
After explaining his purpose to the receptionist, she gave Jake a curious look. "Yes, Mr. Jake. He's doing rehab upstairs. You can head directly up."
Thanking the receptionist, Jake made his way to the second floor. The rehabilitation center looked more like a gym, filled with various fitness machines. At one station near the window, a large figure was going through a training routine.
"Hello, I'm Jake, the general manager of the Kings. I think you've probably heard of me," Jake said with a professional smile, approaching the man.
The machine beeped as it powered down. Even sitting, the man was almost eye level with Jake, towering over most people. He glanced at Jake, a flicker of confusion in his tired eyes.
"Yeah, I know who you are. The league's buzzing with news about you. What brings you here?" the man asked.
"I want to give you another chance," Jake said, his gaze steady. "Greg Oden."
At the mention of his name, the former No. 1 draft pick—once chosen over future stars like Kevin Durant and Al Horford—paused. For the first time in a long while, a glimmer of hope sparked in Oden's eyes.