"Congratulations! Two consecutive playoff appearances, and this year you've cracked the top half. Jake, your position as general manager is looking more solid than ever."
"Hahaha, thanks! But really, it's all thanks to everyone's hard work. I just made some small contributions," Jake replied modestly, though the corner of his mouth twitched from holding the same smile through call after congratulatory call.
Last year's playoff run had brought Jake recognition, but this season had cemented his reputation as a top-tier GM. Trading away their star player, Cousins, was a bold move that many had questioned. Yet, not only had it not hurt the team's record—it improved it.
Jokic had come into his own, becoming the Kings' most reliable inside presence. The midseason acquisition of Jimmy Butler had proven pivotal, as Butler embraced his role as the team leader and drove them forward. Meanwhile, CJ McCollum and Devin Booker continued to realize their potential, while Jae Crowder and Michael Porter Jr. found their places, forming a formidable defensive duo.
Even Greg Oden, once written off due to injuries, had a resurgent season. Playing 67 games—almost equaling his career total up to this point—Oden brought toughness, defense, and surprising consistency at a bargain salary. Veterans Rudy Gay and Omri Casspi provided stability, though their roles and shot opportunities were reduced to make space for younger talent.
Jake's train of thought was interrupted by Malone's booming laughter. "56 wins and 26 losses! Do you know how long it's been since we've had a season like this?"
"It's impressive," Jake admitted. "But stop grinning like that." He stretched out his hand toward Malone, his eyes gleaming.
"Tsk, you're still holding onto this?" Malone groaned, fishing out his wallet. With a reluctant sigh, he handed Jake two crisp $100 bills. "How do you always guess these things? Golden State actually won 73 games."
Jake smirked as he pocketed the money. "This year's Warriors are something else," he said simply, avoiding further discussion.
Malone took a seat, his mood turning serious. "How's the team looking?"
"Good," Malone replied. "The medical staff checked everyone—no injuries."
Jake let out a small sigh of relief. Injury-free going into the playoffs was no small feat, especially given his insistence on rotating the team and resting key players during the regular season's final stretch.
"Our first-round opponent is set," Malone continued, flipping open his notebook. "We're locked in as the third seed. We'll face the Memphis Grizzlies."
Jake frowned. The Grizzlies were a perennial playoff team, known for their physical, grind-it-out style of basketball. They weren't championship contenders, but they were spoilers—capable of dragging any opponent into a brutal, defensive battle.
The Western Conference standings were as follows:
Golden State Warriors (73-9)San Antonio Spurs (67-15)Sacramento Kings (56-26)Oklahoma City ThunderLos Angeles ClippersMemphis GrizzliesDallas MavericksHouston Rockets
The Kings' 56-win season would have been enough for a top-two seed in most years, but the dominance of the Warriors and Spurs relegated them to third.
Meanwhile, the Eastern Conference looked more familiar:
Cleveland CavaliersToronto RaptorsWashington WizardsMiami HeatBoston CelticsAtlanta HawksCharlotte HornetsDetroit Pistons
The Wizards, bolstered by Jake's earlier maneuvers, had climbed to third in the East.
"What's your take on the first round?" Jake asked, steepling his fingers.
"We have to speed up the tempo," Malone answered without hesitation. "The Grizzlies thrive in the half-court game. If we let them control the pace, it'll be a slugfest—and no one comes out of that unscathed."
He tapped the table rhythmically as he spoke. "Their defense is suffocating, especially with those two big bears in the paint. Butler's tough, but even he can't power through that consistently. We'll need to lean on our regular-season strategy: fast breaks and defensive counterattacks."
"Make them run?" Jake asked, a faint smile forming.
"Exactly. The Grizzlies don't have the legs to keep up. If we push the pace for even one or two quarters, they'll be gassed. From there, we dictate the game."
Jake nodded in agreement. "Alright, we'll go with your plan."
He glanced out the window, the sky glowing with the fading light of day. "It all starts next week. Let's make it count."