The Kings took Game 1 without breaking a sweat, and two days later, they cruised to another win at home in Game 2.
The series stood at 2-0.
"Should we start looking into our second-round opponent already?"
On the flight to Memphis, Malone suddenly threw out this question.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
Sitting across from him, Chen Yilun immediately cut him off.
"We're only up 2-0 and you're already thinking about the next round? Do you really like jinxing yourself that much?"
"You are always into this superstition stuff."
Seeing Chen Yilun uninterested, Malone shut his mouth with a sulky look.
But in truth, talk like this was taboo around the league. The most famous example was Tracy McGrady, who once confidently said, "I'm already preparing for my next-round opponent."
And then he got smacked down.
Ever since, players and coaches had been extra cautious, afraid one wrong word would land them on the wall of shame.
"So what do you think happens in that other series?"
When Chen Yilun ignored him, Malone rephrased his question.
"You're really set on this, huh?"
Chen Yilun tossed off his blanket, sat up straight, and replied.
"What's there to talk about? San Antonio is locked in on a title run. Dallas doesn't stand a chance."
According to the playoff bracket, the Kings, as the 3-6 matchup, would face the winner of the 2-7 series.
This year's Spurs were stacked. They held off the 73-win Warriors in the regular season to finish with a franchise-best 67 wins.
Even ESPN had said it outright: in the West, only the Spurs had any real chance of challenging the Warriors' dominance.
As for the Kings, ESPN didn't even think they were worth analyzing.
"So you think we'd have a shot against the Spurs? Yilun, that's your old team. Give me something to work with."
Malone probed again, fishing for insight.
Watching his anxious expression, Chen Yilun sighed.
He knew exactly what was going on.
It was insecurity, plain and simple.
Everyone could already see the Kings had their first-round series locked up. The problem was the second round—they'd be running into a juggernaut.
This Spurs team was being called the strongest roster in league history. After failing to defend their title last year, the Silver and Black were dead set on reclaiming the throne.
Malone's constant questions about the Spurs were really just him hoping Chen Yilun would suddenly hand him some miracle weakness that could help topple the mountain ahead.
Of course, Malone himself knew that was just wishful thinking.
Seeing Malone looking so deflated, Chen Yilun sighed again and sat upright.
"Sometimes I swear I should call the cops," Chen Yilun muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. "I'm just the GM—why am I stuck doing therapy too? I put up with it from the players, but you, the big tough head coach, need me to hold your hand too?"
"Heh, heh, heh."
Malone chuckled awkwardly. "Talking to you just… feels safer."
"Stop right there!"
Chen Yilun cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Do you realize how easily that could be misinterpreted?"
Focus on finishing this series. Don't give the Grizzlies any chance."
Malone waved him off dismissively. "A banged-up Grizzlies team? No problem."
Chen Yilun gave a cold smile. "You'd better be right."
...
...
"No way! They're actually hanging in there?!"
Malone stood on the sideline, eyes wide as the game played out.
Contrary to his expectations, Memphis showed incredible resilience. Even deep into the fourth quarter, the game was still neck and neck.
The Kings' shooters were ice cold, as if the frigid Memphis air had frozen their hot hands.
"Clang!"
As the ball clanged off the rim, CJ let out a rare curse. "F**K!"
"Keep your head straight!" Butler's distinct voice cut through to CJ.
Looking up, CJ saw Butler just as drenched in sweat. "So what if it doesn't fall? Get back on defense!"
The biggest surprise of the night was the aging Vince Carter, suddenly playing like a man half his age.
Time had taken his leaping ability, and his battered ankles couldn't handle sharp cuts anymore. But time had also given Carter new tools.
His defense had grown steady, his perimeter shot more reliable. With a slower pace, he had time to study the game, and his court vision skyrocketed.
Knowing his strengths, Carter positioned himself perfectly—and on a night when the Kings' shooters were struggling, he struck. With deadly timing, he buried outside shots that caught Sacramento completely off guard.
"I told you so!"
Chen Yilun was practically shouting in Malone's ear. "Stop acting like it's in the bag! Switch up the lineup! Keep this up and we'll actually lose!"
But Malone had no energy left to argue. His forehead was slick with sweat.
He hadn't expected the Grizzlies to be this tough. His whole plan was unraveling.
"Jimmy, take over! Take over!"
Malone shouted desperately from the sideline.
Hearing his coach, Butler glanced at the bench, nodded firmly, then turned to CJ. "From here to the buzzer, every possession runs through me."
The final minutes turned into pure superstar ball. Butler took full control of the Kings' offense, relentlessly driving into the paint.
For old-school Butler, clutch time meant only two choices: fight his way inside for points or fouls—or gamble on a three.
It was brutal.
Butler threw himself into the paint possession after possession, battling for every bucket. On the other end, Randolph, despite his injured foot, banged against Oden and Jokić, grinding out points for Memphis.
But in the end, the Kings survived.
As the buzzer sounded, Butler, gasping for breath and limping slightly, walked toward the Grizzlies' bench.
"Boss, we still gotta keep serious, right?"
CJ asked cautiously, falling in step beside him.
Butler's effort tonight had silenced everyone—including CJ, who knew he couldn't match this level of physical battle. But Butler had carried it all.
"No need."
Exhausted as he was, Butler's eyes stayed as firm as ever.
"Tonight we shattered their last bit of fight. It's over. We've swept them."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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