Time is a curious thing. When you're free, it races forward like a car on a highway. Before Jake knew it, two months had flown by, and here he was, wrapped tightly in a thick down jacket, braving Toronto's freezing wind.
"I really didn't want to come," Jake muttered, his voice muffled by a scarf as he sneezed and sniffed.
This year's All-Star festivities were unique—not only because it marked the event's first time being hosted outside the U.S. but also because it celebrated the Raptors' 20th anniversary. Sitting across from Jake, looking thoroughly amused, was his mentor, Gregg Popovich.
The two head coaches of the All-Star Game this year had interesting stories. Traditionally, the coaches of the leading teams in the East and West take the helm. But this year, circumstances played out differently.
In the West, the Golden State Warriors topped the standings, but Steve Kerr was ineligible to coach again due to the league's rule against consecutive All-Star appointments. That left Popovich, whose Spurs were in second place, with the honor.
The East, however, had an even stranger twist. The Cleveland Cavaliers, finally clicking under their Big Three, were leading the conference. But a midseason shakeup saw them fire head coach David Blatt and promote Tyronn Lue. With only three games under his belt as head coach, Lue found himself leading the Eastern Conference All-Stars—a record unlikely to be broken anytime soon.
"You're one to talk about taking advantage of people," Popovich teased, his grin widening as he watched Jake shiver in the cold.
Jake rolled his eyes. "I mean it! Sacramento's got nothing to do with this year's All-Stars. Let me remind you, no CJ, no Butler, and our only participant is Booker in the Rookie Game."
Popovich stroked his snowy hair as it blew in the icy wind. "Still, you can't pass up an event like this. People would kill to be here, especially this year."
He was right. The biggest storyline of the All-Star weekend was Kobe Bryant's final appearance. The 24 vs. 23 showdown—Kobe versus LeBron—was destined to be one for the ages.
"But you've been suspiciously quiet for two months," Popovich added, his sharp gaze cutting through the cold air. "Don't tell me you've been slacking off. How's the secret project coming along?"
"Teacher, you know I can't answer that," Jake said with a sly grin. "We're competitors now. I can't go spilling trade secrets."
"You little fox," Popovich chuckled.
The conversation ended there, but Popovich's curiosity lingered.
The next day, Jake found himself seated in the arena, scanning the star-studded crowd. Since this was the first All-Star Game in Canada, Toronto had pulled out all the stops, and the arena buzzed with excitement.
While Jake tried to identify the faces of celebrities scattered around the venue, a familiar figure in a Raptors jersey with a bushy beard sat down in front of him. Jake immediately recognized the man—it was none other than Drake, the globally famous rapper and die-hard Raptors fan.
"Jake, right? Welcome to Toronto," Drake said with a beaming smile.
Caught off guard, Jake quickly shook his hand. "Thanks. Great to meet you."
"You're a big deal, man," Drake said, winking playfully. "Especially among the ladies. Lots of stars have their eyes on you."
Jake's eyes widened in disbelief, his mind racing. If they're interested, why not just come up to me? I've been single long enough. Let's talk!
The two chatted for a while, sharing a few laughs. Then something on Drake's waist caught Jake's attention—a small glass bottle, hanging like a keychain, filled with bright red liquid.
"What's that?" Jake asked, pointing.
Drake followed Jake's gaze and laughed. He unhooked the bottle from his jeans and held it up. "Oh, this? It's chili sauce. I always carry some with me. A little habit of mine."
Jake stared at the bottle, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a laugh. Drake's unexpected quirk was both hilarious and oddly endearing.
"It's chili sauce," Drake repeated proudly. "Not as strange as it looks, right?"
"Right," Jake replied, his face turning red—not from the cold, but from the effort it took to hold back his laughter.
Despite the lighthearted moments, Jake's mind was elsewhere. Two months of silence on his end had left the league speculating about what the Kings were up to. Sacramento hadn't made any moves or adjustments, but that didn't mean Jake was idle.
Far from it.
Behind the scenes, he had been refining the two tactical systems he'd discussed with Malone: one centered around Jokic's inside-out passing and another built on Butler's relentless inside attack. The key was to keep both systems under wraps until the playoffs, where the element of surprise would give the Kings a significant edge.
As Jake watched the All-Star festivities unfold, he felt a quiet confidence brewing. This weekend wasn't just a break from the season—it was a chance to study the league's elite players and coaches, to observe and strategize.
When the final buzzer of the All-Star Game sounded, Jake stood and zipped up his jacket. Toronto's cold wasn't something he'd miss, but the lessons and insights from this weekend? Those were invaluable.
By the time the playoffs rolled around, the Kings wouldn't just be participants—they'd be contenders, ready to strike when the moment was right.