"Why so sudden?" Malone's frown deepened as he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table. They were back in the conference room, and Jake had wasted no time getting straight to business. Malone was surprised; they'd only recently set out a plan to develop the team's young talent, a long-term strategy. But Jake had thrown a wrench in that carefully crafted blueprint.
"Didn't we agree that this season would focus on developing our rookies?" Malone asked. "The idea was to bring them up to speed, build their confidence, and maybe make a trade for an All-Star next offseason. Why the urgency?"
Jake shook his head, sensing the coach's concern. "It's not as urgent as it sounds, Malone. I just wanted you to be aware," he said, leaning forward. "Things are changing, fast. I've gotten word that there might be significant shifts in team management across the league starting this season. If that happens, we'll be in a prime position to make some strategic moves."
Malone's expression softened as he listened, starting to see Jake's reasoning. Personnel changes meant instability, and instability often created opportunities. If a team's management was in flux, they'd be more open to trades, even ones they'd never consider in a normal season. With some GMs likely facing pressure to shake up rosters, this could be the perfect chance for the Kings to step in.
"All right, I get it," Malone replied, nodding thoughtfully. "How do you want me to handle this?"
Jake didn't hesitate. "We need to look at trading LaVine. He's had a solid season, and his potential is obvious. Other teams won't overlook that. But we'll need to increase his minutes, especially in games where he can showcase his strengths. The goal is to package him as a prime asset."
Malone's eyes widened, though he didn't look entirely surprised. It was a common strategy to give potential trade players more responsibility on the court. Showcasing them not only increased their visibility but gave other teams something to consider beyond numbers. Managers and coaches called it "storytelling" — they'd build up a player's profile by having them take more shots or step up defensively to demonstrate their potential to prospective teams. The Kings could easily do the same with LaVine.
"Fine," Malone said, his voice resigned. "We'll work on emphasizing his scoring, finishing, and defense. But we need to avoid putting too much on his shoulders." Malone knew that LaVine's natural position wasn't ball-handling; overloading him with responsibilities there would likely only end in mistakes, making it harder to showcase his skills to other teams.
LaVine's time with the Kings had already deviated from the usual developmental path. Since he'd joined just as the Kings were gearing up for a competitive season, he'd been rushed into focusing on defense rather than honing his offensive skills. He'd trained hard, spending a season refining his defense and working with shooting coach Chip on spot-up shooting. Before long, LaVine had cemented his role as a classic "3-and-D" player—a valuable asset, albeit one slightly different from the offensive playmaker many expected him to become.
Jake knew that LaVine's development had taken this turn and wanted to make the most of it. LaVine had size, athleticism, and a steadily improving three-point shot. His defensive skills were already above average, though he wasn't quite at the level of guarding elite scorers. He had room to grow, and Jake planned to sell that potential to other teams. LaVine's flashy dunks would also be a draw—fans loved that kind of excitement, which could mean more ticket sales for any team that picked him up.
Still, Malone sighed, looking a bit pained. "Selling LaVine? I know it's business, but I've put so much into helping him grow."
Jake shot him an understanding glance. "You're just getting started with these young guys, Malone. Trust me, after a few more trades, you'll get used to it." He could see Malone's attachment to the player, but Jake had no time to dwell on sentiment. The NBA was a business, after all, and success meant making tough calls.
Jake tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. "Give me a backup player to keep in mind, someone we can trade if LaVine alone isn't enough to secure the player we need."
Malone agreed, though he made sure to note his reservations. "All right. But let's not rush it. I'll need some time to bring LaVine up to where he needs to be."
"Of course," Jake replied, pulling out a cigarette as he leaned back. "There's no immediate rush. I'm telling you now because we might have two months before things start shaking up. The league hasn't kicked off yet."
Malone raised an eyebrow. "And when do you think the big moves will begin?"
Jake took a contemplative drag from his cigarette. "If I had to guess, I'd say around the All-Star Game. That's when we'll see some serious action at the trade deadline."
Nodding, Malone glanced down at his notes, clearly already planning the upcoming season. "All right. So, any goals in mind, or are we just rolling with the changes?"
Jake chuckled, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Buddha said: it's unspeakable!"
Malone groaned, but he couldn't help a grin. Jake always had that side to him—a strategic mind veiled in secrecy and calculated charm. As he watched his young general manager walk away, Malone had the uncanny sense that Jake was like a cunning fox in human form, plotting his next move and never showing his full hand.