บท 253: Eyes on Los Angeles.
After pushing through the championship ceremony with sheer willpower, Han Sen was taken to a local hospital. Riding with him in the ambulance was none other than Anjali Ranadive.
Anjali had rushed to Miami the moment she learned Han was running a fever. She'd watched the entire game tonight with her heart in her throat. But in the end, all the pain and sacrifice were worth it for Han Sen.
He didn't just secure a dynasty.
For a woman who loved basketball, what could be more fulfilling than witnessing the performance of a god on the court—especially when that god happened to be her boyfriend? To someone like Anjali, who had never lacked for anything growing up, Han Sen had become an intoxicating addiction.
Of course, Anjali wasn't the only one who went to the hospital. Chris Wallace, Coach Joerger, Rudy Gay, and Zach Randolph all drove there later.
"Enjoy the best moment of your lives. You don't need to be here for me right now," Han told Rudy and the others, shooing them off with a grin.
Eventually, only Anjali and Wallace stayed behind in the room. Wallace hesitated, glancing at Han, until Han nodded for him to speak.
"I'll be resigning after the championship parade," Wallace announced, stunning Han.
Leaving right before me?
Wallace quickly explained. "I don't want to be remembered as the guy who traded away the greatest player in league history."
The reason sounded absurd but also entirely genuine.
Wallace had built a stellar résumé thanks to the trade that brought Han Sen to Memphis. But if he were the one to trade Han away—no matter the reason—that decision would overshadow his accomplishments. On the other hand, resigning before the trade would leave him as one of the hottest managerial commodities in the league.
He wasn't tied to Memphis.
"I'm sorry that you have to leave because of me," Han said, feeling a pang of guilt.
Wallace, who had been in Memphis since 2007, wouldn't have chosen to leave if not for Han.
"You don't owe anyone on this team an apology," Wallace replied, shaking his head. "You gave us all dynasty rings. That's going to pay dividends for years to come."
Han chuckled, though the fever made it painful. Rubbing his temples, he gestured for Wallace to leave. "Get some rest, boss."
After Wallace left, the room quieted, leaving only Anjali and Han.
To his surprise, Anjali grabbed a bowl of water and started wiping his forehead. Han considered saying that the nurses would handle it later, but the earnest look on her face made him stay quiet.
He didn't have the energy to talk anyway.
As the cool cloth eased his fever, the fatigue of the season washed over him like a tide. Before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep.
In his dreams, he was trapped in a world of insects, where a virus caused mutations, and even his own body began sprouting tendrils.
Han woke with a start, drenched in sweat. The room was dimly lit, the main lights off.
He reached out instinctively to turn on the light, only to realize his hand was tightly held. Turning his head, he saw Anjali asleep at his bedside, her fingers wrapped around his.
For a moment, Han was deeply moved. The last time someone had stayed by his bedside like this, he was a child, and it had been his mother.
Anjali might not have the star power of Taylor Swift or Scarlett Johansson, but she was real. She genuinely cared.
After hesitating, Han gently woke her. "Go rest at the hotel. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and not see you there."
Anjali wanted to stay, but Han's words left no room for argument.
As she left, there was some noise at the door. Chris Rondo stepped in, nodding at Anjali as she passed. He must've been waiting outside earlier.
Han asked Rondo to turn on the lights and call a nurse to help clean him up. After a change of clothes and a wiped-down body, he felt much better. His fever had mostly subsided, thanks to the medication and the sweat, though the other symptoms lingered.
Han gestured for Rondo to sit. "Let's talk business."
Unlike the rumored 'Four Horsemen' of his circle, Rondo was one of the few people Han truly trusted. The Grizzlies' dynasty was complete—it was time to plan his next move.
Han had thought about it before, but never deeply. The Grizzlies' third championship had consumed all his energy. Now, one thing was certain: he wasn't interested in teams with cheap owners like the Rockets.
"You remember when the Rockets wouldn't spend $10 million for a shooter to support Yao and McGrady but turned around and bought a $30 million Pagani for the owner's son? Yeah, hard pass."
Another team Han ruled out was the Spurs. "I'd go to Boston before I play for Pop."
Han wasn't necessarily chasing a big market like LeBron. He just wanted an owner willing to invest in the team.
Rondo spoke up. "I've got an idea—Sacramento Kings."
Han laughed. "To become the real king?"
Sacramento wasn't a big city or a major market. Economically, it lagged behind, and the team's recent struggles had alienated its fanbase.
But Rondo nodded. With Anjali's influence in the Kings' ownership, Han would wield unprecedented power. No need for power plays like LeBron's—Han could just call Anjali.
He'd effectively be player, coach, and GM all at once. A true king.
Yet Han shook his head after some thought. The risks were too high.
"What if we break up?" Han muttered. Relationships were unpredictable. If they split, would he request a trade? That would be personal drama bleeding into his career.
For now, they tabled the discussion. The NBA might have 30 teams, but finding the right one felt impossible. Every team had its flaws, and the question of trade assets loomed large.
In Miami, Han spent two days recovering. During that time, countless people came to visit the man who had cemented the Grizzlies' dynasty.
Once he felt better, Han returned to Memphis, just in time for the championship parade.
The city was on high alert, even borrowing police forces from nearby areas. The Grizzlies' legendary victory was set to spark a celebration of unprecedented scale.
And it did.
Despite the heavy precautions, the parade saw chaos. Memphis was just that kind of city—wild, untamed, and full of passion.
After the parade wrapped up and the team returned to the FedExForum, the Memphis Grizzlies hosted a championship speech event. This time, it wasn't Han Sen leading the festivities—Zach Randolph took center stage.
It was a clear signal: with Han Sen already planning to leave, the management was preparing for the next season.
Han Sen didn't take it personally. In fact, he genuinely hoped Randolph could lead the Grizzlies well in his absence. His departure wouldn't change the bond he shared with his teammates.
During the fan Q&A session, a microphone was finally handed to Han Sen.
"Will we complete the four-peat next season?" a fan asked, throwing out a question that set imaginations racing.
A four-peat—something only the Celtics from the ancient NBA days had ever achieved. Not even Michael Jordan could pull it off.
In truth, Han Sen didn't have an overwhelming desire for such a feat. To him, it wasn't a defining accomplishment. Jordan himself admitted that had it not been for his father's passing, he might have achieved it, but the effort held little real meaning. As Jordan put it, once you lead a team to a dynasty, the hunger for more titles tends to diminish.
While Michael Heisley was the primary reason for Han Sen's departure, it wasn't the sole factor. Winning was great, but life also held other pursuits worth exploring.
Still, now wasn't the time to delve into such topics. The real question was how Han should respond. Announcing his departure during the celebration wasn't appropriate.
"We'll know the answer soon enough," Han replied cryptically, leaving fans to interpret his words as they pleased.
Once the championship parade ended, Chris Wallace resigned as the Grizzlies' general manager, sparking a wave of fan speculation.
As the architect of Memphis' dynasty, Wallace's departure carried significant weight. Names like Red Auerbach (Celtics), Jerry Krause (Bulls), Mitch Kupchak (Lakers), and Bob Myers (Warriors) echoed in similar legendary status. The sudden resignation naturally fueled rumors about Han Sen's future.
Unburdened by his role, Wallace found himself relaxing in Han Sen's villa, plotting Han's next career move.
After discussing Han's priorities, Wallace proposed a destination that met all his criteria: the Los Angeles Clippers.
The Clippers were in a peculiar situation. During the playoffs, owner Donald Sterling had been banned for life over racist remarks, with the NBA forcing the sale of the team. While Sterling technically remained the owner for now, a change was inevitable.
Among the potential buyers was Microsoft billionaire Steve Ballmer.
Han hadn't paid much attention to this development during the playoffs, but Wallace's mention jogged his memory—Ballmer was set to become the Clippers' new owner.
Ballmer's wealth was unfathomable. As fans joked, if the rules allowed it, he could probably buy the entire NBA outright. Moreover, his passion for basketball rivaled Mark Cuban's, frequently appearing courtside to cheer for his team.
If investment in the team was the priority, no one outshone Ballmer.
After his discussion with Wallace, Han called in Chris Rondo and Henry Thomas to weigh in.
The Clippers were a unique case. Essentially in limbo without an owner, any negotiations would have to go through the front office. Han assigned Thomas to make contact with the Clippers while bringing in the Grizzlies' new GM, Stu Lash, to relay his desire to join the Clippers.
And then, it was a waiting game.
As expected, rumors quickly surfaced linking Han to trade discussions. In the NBA, there was no such thing as keeping secrets—where there were talks, there were leaks. Insiders fed reporters, who made a living off these whispers. The line between rumor and fact was thin, often hinging on whether the deal eventually went through.
Fan speculation intensified. Coupled with Wallace's resignation, many felt it was certain: Han Sen was leaving Memphis.
Han, however, stayed silent. He'd prepared a farewell message for the Grizzlies, but that would only be released once the Clippers deal was finalized. It was his way of maintaining control over the narrative.
After all, his contract didn't include a no-trade clause. This wasn't an oversight—by NBA rules, such clauses were only available to players with eight or more years of experience or those signing qualifying offers.
Meanwhile, across the country, in the Eastern Conference, rumors began swirling about LeBron James.
"LeBron wants to return to the Cavaliers."
The whispers grew louder, painting a picture of 'The Akron Son' returning home. Themes of redemption and loyalty filled the air.
It was clear Nike's marketing machine was in full swing.
Fans weren't wrong when they nicknamed it the 'Nike League.' Behind so many NBA stories was the hand of corporate influence.
From the Lakers acquiring Pau Gasol (Nike) to pair with Kobe Bryant to battle Adidas-aligned Kevin Garnett in Boston, to the Heat's Nike-backed Big Three winning titles, and now, the potential formation of a Kyrie-LeBron-Love trio in Cleveland, the patterns were undeniable.
For Nike, Han Sen, as Under Armour's flagship athlete, had been too dominant, claiming three consecutive championships. Restoring balance was imperative.
Under corporate pressure, even icons like LeBron had little room to resist. Contracts needed signing, promises needed keeping. For the Cavaliers, it was a lifeline. Years of playoff drought had crippled the franchise's revenue.
Players were pawns in a game of corporate chess.
As the days ticked by, the 2014 NBA Draft loomed on the horizon.
Then, out of nowhere, an unexpected visitor knocked on Han Sen's door.
-End of Chapter-
TL/n: Mass release for the missed days.
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