As Jake and Miller joined the crowd streaming out of the arena, Miller glanced at his notes. "So, what did you think of the game?" he asked.
"The Wizards have a glaring defensive issue," Miller replied, scanning his phone. "Cousins' defense just isn't strong enough, so they've finally moved him to the 4-spot, putting Gortat at the 5 to bolster their interior defense."
"Exactly, and they don't have a reliable way to contain LeBron on the front line," Jake added. After watching tonight's game, he'd formed a clear impression. If nothing drastic happened, it seemed unlikely that the Wizards could stop the Cavaliers in the playoffs. But that was fine by Jake. He didn't need the Wizards to win; he just needed them to make things difficult for the Cavs over the next couple of years. Sighing, he pulled his coat tighter and strode ahead. "Come on, time to head back."
Meanwhile, across town in the Kings' practice facility, Coach Chip was pushing Booker hard in training. "Faster! Faster!" he urged, clapping to set a rhythm as Booker sprinted back and forth, catching passes and taking rapid-fire shots. Booker's latest shot clanged off the rim, drawing a frustrated look from Chip.
Chip walked over, leveling a stern gaze at him. "Look, your shot was all out of form just now, and you didn't put full power behind it."
Booker, dripping with sweat, wiped his face. "Coach Chip, I'm exhausted. It's tough to catch and shoot so quickly."
"Then tell your opponents not to defend you during the game," Chip replied sharply. "If you want to make it in this league, you've got to score under any conditions. The team picked you for this exact reason. If you can't handle the intensity now, how are you going to keep up?"
His words hit Booker like a gut punch. "I understand, Coach! Let's keep going!" Shaking off the fatigue, Booker got back into training.
After a few rounds, Coach Chris Finley entered with Claude. "Hey Chip, training them hard today, huh?"
Chip nodded, waving them over. "Perfect timing. Booker's working on contested shots; you can put Claude on defense."
With Booker holding the ball at the top of the arc, Claude assumed a solid defensive stance. Booker stared down his target, gave a slight nod, then jumped for a shot. Claude extended his right hand to challenge, but Booker's shot sailed just over his fingers and dropped through the hoop.
"Booker's improving his shot under pressure faster than I expected," Chip observed from the sideline. "The kid's a natural scorer. Allen really scored a hidden gem with him."
"His offense is certainly promising," Chris replied, watching Claude try to stymie Booker again, this time with a successful block. "But I'm just happy Claude's picking up the fundamentals. Defense is critical for his survival in the league." Chris turned and called out to Claude. "Jay! Remember what I said! You can't close in too tight on an offensive player like that."
He walked over and took Claude's place, demonstrating defensive form. "Keep some distance. Give yourself space to react if they turn or drive. Keep your center of gravity on your feet to move quickly." Claude watched closely, taking in every tip, and even Booker joined in to learn a few new tricks.
"The goal in defense isn't to steal or block every shot," Chris explained, guiding Booker. "It's about disrupting the offense and forcing them into low-percentage shots." He gestured for Booker to try a shot while Chris guarded him closely, blocking his right hand to limit his options. Booker tried to make space, but every move was countered by Chris, leaving no room for an open shot.
"I get it now, Coach," Claude nodded, resolved. As a second-round pick, he knew his margin for error was small. Players like him needed to excel in defense and adapt as versatile 3-and-D forwards.
"All right, that's a wrap. Head over and work on your footwork drills with the training cannon," Chip said. The cannon, a specialized training tool, would challenge their balance and core strength, helping develop stability for defensive movements.
The team was thriving in the environment Jake had built—a place where players could grow, challenge themselves, and find their place on the roster. The ambition was palpable.
Later that evening, Jake stood on the balcony, exhausted from travel yet immediately back in the flow of work. He greeted Divac, who was returning from a late meeting. "I know you're not fully focused on this management thing yet," Divac chuckled, "but as assistant GM, maybe you should stop pestering your prized apprentice for everything."
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," Jake replied, amused. Over the past year, Divac had come to respect Jake's instincts, even looking up to him at times.
"The league's restless lately," Jake said, lighting a cigarette. "I saw it in Cleveland. A lot of scouts and coaches from other teams were buzzing around, like they're up to something. We need to keep our eyes open. Make sure our people stay on their toes."