"Have you heard?" Stevens held up his tactical board, covering his mouth. "There might be some shake-up in the East next year."
"I know for sure." Jake pretended to wipe his mouth, actually using it to cover his lips. "I know for sure. What's up? Got any ideas?"
Jake's response made Stevens chuckle. "No wonder they call you a hyena in the league now; you really just go wherever you catch the scent."
"A hyena?" Jake paused, then laughed. "Good name, I like it!"
In the league, anyone well-known usually gets one or more nicknames. Now Jake had one too, signaling his growing status.
"So, what's your plan?" Jake asked, keeping his tone casual.
"I'm not getting involved in this one. I'll have Angie get in touch with you later." Stevens gave him a knowing smile and headed toward the locker room.
"What's the situation?" Malone appeared beside Jake.
"Not sure yet, but I think the big shift we predicted in the East might be happening sooner." Stevens testing the waters could only mean one thing: Boston's angel had some solid intel. A team was about to make waves.
"I'll catch you later, back to the office for some overtime," Jake said, leaving Malone, who was still curious. With a quick step, he was out of the arena.
Which team was in for a shake-up? On his way back, Jake's mind replayed the reshuffles in the league from his previous life. But none seemed to match recent events. Rebirth didn't mean he was invincible—each of his moves influenced the historical timeline. The unpredictability left him wondering what might unfold.
"If I keep working like this, big changes might be inevitable. If it goes too far, even my foresight could be useless," Jake thought with a touch of bitterness.
Back at the office, Jake hurriedly powered up his computer and started refining his plans. He liked picking up any useful advantage, but he had to prioritize. "No player changes for now," Jake decided, as his team was already solid. Butler, the one player he coveted, wasn't available yet, so it was best to stay put and wait for the Bulls to budge.
"Maybe I could strengthen the staff," Jake mused. On his team, Malone was on a different level, but Chris and Chip were invaluable core members. Chris could establish a defensive framework, and Chip offered pure experience to level up the players.
"We need a tactical coach!" Jake noted. "And a specialist in conditioning; while Uncle Chip can manage, getting a more dedicated trainer would be ideal."
This way, even if Malone made rookie mistakes in the playoffs, Jake's carefully assembled staff would cover him. Essentially, he wanted to build a team with a higher fault tolerance.
Just as Jake wrapped up his plans and was about to log off, his phone rang. "Boss, something's up!" Peja's voice came through the line. "Just got word—the Rockets fired Kevin McHale! His assistant J.B. Bickerstaff is stepping up!"
"Bickerstaff!" The name brought back memories. This was the year Bickerstaff would rise. After taking over, he'd help Harden become a star while Howard's career would spiral, eventually turning him into a league journeyman.
"The Rockets won't be a threat," Jake sighed. "No need to worry; they've got no players I want. Harden's not for sale, and their management's a mess. I'd rather stay clean."
Bickerstaff's approach had always been divisive. Sure, he stepped up as an assistant to replace the renowned McHale and kept the team competitive. But Bickerstaff eventually made Harden the sole core, marginalizing Howard and relegating him to a high-level support role. Later, with Capela's rise, Howard was pushed out entirely. Bickerstaff's system, while fitting the times, maximized Harden but wasted Howard in his prime.
"I got it. I'll keep you posted if anything comes up!" Peja hung up after his briefing.
Meanwhile, in Houston, Bickerstaff watched as McHale packed up his office. "Coach, is there really nothing else you want to tell me?"
"What's an old guy like me got to tell you?" McHale laughed, looking more relieved than upset about his exit. "As a player, I'm very satisfied with my career. But as a coach, I was too average."
McHale placed his mug in a cardboard box. "This team's strange—coaches like us have to survive in the cracks between management, owners, and players. Funny when you think about it."
He paused. "When I first came here, it wasn't like this. I had a lot of autonomy, and the team was moving forward steadily, following my vision."
"When did things change? Maybe it started when Harden's talent shone, and Morey kept pampering him. I had to adjust my tactics for him over and over. It was then that the team started slipping from my control."
"Don't try to compete with Morey once you're in charge. You don't have the clout to do that. Just go along, be his tool, and maybe you'll leave with a good reputation."