"This Malone is really something else," Jake muttered, leaning back in his chair with a mix of admiration and relief as he watched the game unfold on Divac's big-screen TV. He, Divac, and Peja had gathered in Divac's villa to catch the Kings' matchup against the Magic. Despite recent concerns about CJ's injury possibly sending the team into a slump, the Kings were proving resilient, handling the Magic with ease and putting any rumors of their decline to rest.
Peja nodded, smiling as he watched Josh Richardson handling the ball on the court. "When did Richardson get trained to play point guard? I didn't even know he was working on his ball-handling."
Divac, scratching his thick beard, shook his head. "No idea. I didn't see it coming either. But he looks solid out there."
Jake allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he observed Richardson confidently coordinating plays on the floor. It wasn't a perfect game; Richardson had fumbled a few passes and made some rookie mistakes. But those were details, small blemishes that didn't overshadow the potential the young player displayed. Jake felt the team could work with Richardson, cultivate him into a tall ball handler who could be a versatile asset.
"We should definitely keep working on his ball-handling skills," Peja chimed in. "If he develops well, it could be a major win for us."
Jake nodded thoughtfully, then glanced over at Booker and Jokic on the court, the synergy between them almost palpable. "And seeing Booker and Jokic connect like this... I wonder if we might be better off eventually making CJ our sixth man." Peja paused, then looked over at Jake with a glint in his eye. "I'm starting to wonder—are these players just that good, or is Malone truly the magician we think he is?"
Jake laughed and gave Peja a playful nudge. "It's my impeccable scouting, obviously! Malone's just lucky he gets to work with all this talent."
The trio continued watching the game, bantering and teasing each other, but their relaxed moment was interrupted by Jake's phone buzzing insistently. He glanced down, muttering, "Remind me to put in a reimbursement request for this bill; the calls never end." When he saw the name on the caller ID, however, his mood changed instantly. He excused himself and stepped out to the garden, answering the phone as he closed the door behind him.
"Hello, teacher," he said, recognizing the familiar number and voice on the other end. It was none other than Buford, the mentor who had shaped much of his early career and guided him through the intricacies of team management.
"You've really been making a name for yourself," Buford's tone was light, almost playful, but there was an edge beneath it. "Just calling to give you a heads-up—people are noticing you. A lot of people."
Jake felt a chill run down his spine at the warning. "What do you mean? I've just been doing my job."
"Think about what you've accomplished since you came to the Kings. You've brought in CJ, LaVine, Oden, Booker, and now Richardson," Buford listed. "That kind of track record makes people sit up and pay attention, especially your fellow GMs."
Jake's brows furrowed. He knew he'd made some bold moves, but he hadn't considered that it might be drawing unwanted attention. "But what's the big deal? Aren't we all just working to build the best teams we can?"
"Not quite," Buford replied, his voice dropping slightly. "With your success, it's starting to look like more than just good management. And the fact that you're tied to the Spurs' network doesn't help. Your fellow alumni aren't exactly thrilled about the attention you're attracting, either."
Jake paused, taken aback. "My fellow alumni? Is something going on that I don't know about?"
"Pressure is building on Bud's position with the Hawks. If they don't make a breakthrough, he might not last the season," Buford said grimly. "And that's just one example. It's a pattern."
"Shine star attracts the dark," Buford replied, the gravity in his voice unmistakable. "The league's front offices have noticed how many of us there are now. The Magic are close to firing Skiles and bringing in Borrego. The Bulls, too—they're looking to replace Hoiberg with Boylen. That's more Spurs-trained coaches, more Spurs influence."
Jake listened, the pieces beginning to fit together in his mind. Borrego, Boylen, and others—the league was filled with Buford and Popovich's protégés. At first, he'd thought it was a testament to the Spurs' developmental success, but he could see now why it might be perceived as a threat.
"We're being watched, Jake," Buford continued, his tone growing more serious. "The Lakers, Celtics, Knicks, Heat—all the powerhouses are starting to get uneasy about the influence we hold."
A memory surfaced for Jake. He recalled reading about recent, seemingly inexplicable coaching changes across the league. At the time, he'd brushed it off, assuming it was just the usual cycle of the NBA. But now, hearing Buford's words, he realized it might be something far more calculated: a deliberate purge of the Spurs' influence.
Jake took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the realization settle over him. "So what should I do, teacher?"
"While we still have our people in key positions, support them however you can," Buford said. "If you want to strengthen your team, now is the time. If we wait, the opportunity might not come again. Right now, you still have access to colleagues who understand you, who understand our vision for basketball. But if things keep going the way they are... it won't last."
Jake processed Buford's words, understanding the deeper message. The era of Spurs dominance, which had quietly flourished for decades, was coming to an end, or at least being challenged. Silver, the new commissioner, saw them as remnants of the Stern era, and he wasn't the only one. The league's old guard didn't want to share power with a single organization, no matter how successful or influential.
"Thank you, teacher. I hadn't realized the full scope of it," Jake said, his voice respectful. "I'll be careful going forward."
"Just remember, Jake," Buford's voice softened. "We built this to bring our version of basketball to the world. Don't let it all slip away. Help your colleagues, and make the Kings stronger while you can. And, who knows? Maybe this is the start of something even greater for you."
As the call ended, Jake lingered in the garden, letting the quiet night sink in around him. The weight of Buford's words hung heavy. His journey with the Kings was no longer just about building a competitive team; it was now about defending a legacy, securing a place for everything his mentors had built.