"Why do you say that?"
George Karl's wife tilted her head curiously.
"Because of strength."
Old Karl took the last drag of his cigarette and spoke slowly. "The reason Popovich's protégés are spread across the entire league—so widespread that they've become impossible to rein in—isn't just because he welcomed anyone willing to learn. There's another, far more important reason."
"The league is a massive gladiator arena. Popovich and his silver-and-black army have stood firm through multiple eras. That's his real source of confidence."
"His protégés gathered around him because they feared his power."
Karl raised an eyebrow. "But things are different now. Popovich and his Spurs are on shaky ground. At this point, it's impossible for him to maintain absolute dominance over the Spurs lineage."
"Is it really that bad?"
His wife looked doubtful. "It's only been two seasons. With that old fox's skill, he shouldn't be collapsing this easily."
"Foolish!" Karl chuckled, mocking her before continuing.
"That old fox's greatest support was Duncan. You could say the entire Spurs dynasty was built around him."
"Now Duncan's retired. The old fox has lost his pillar. Parker and Ginobili were just the guardians flanking that Stone Buddha. And as for those so-called 'Double-Ds'…" Karl snorted coldly. "With the way they're playing now, the two of them combined still don't match half of Duncan's weight."
"And there's something even more important."
Getting caught up in his thoughts, Karl stood and began pacing slowly across the living room. "Anyone can see it—the new era is coming. The old order of the league is falling apart."
"And wouldn't you know it? The two men standing at the center of the storm—Steve Kerr and Chen Yilun—are both Popovich's protégés."
Karl suddenly turned to his wife. "They're fighting right now, and the prize for the winner is absolute authority over the next era. Tell me—do you really think either of them, no matter who wins, will go back and keep calling Popovich their teacher?"
At that thought, Karl couldn't help but feel his retirement had been a stroke of genius.
"Popovich should've kept his promise and retired alongside Duncan. But now? He's the one being roasted by his own protégés."
Karl let out a dark chuckle. "He spent his life hunting eagles, and in the end, one pecked out his eye. Pop, that's karma."
He wasn't the only one thinking that way. Around the league, other power players watching the Western Conference Finals from home were quietly preparing for the dawn of a new age.
...
In a room in San Antonio, RC Buford nervously rubbed his hands together.
The game had just ended—the Kings had defended their home court in Game 1.
But his longtime partner, Gregg Popovich, was slumped silently on his favorite couch, saying nothing.
"It's over," Buford said after a moment of hesitation.
"Mhm."
Popovich's reply was barely audible, his eyes still fixed on the darkened TV screen.
Buford turned and gave Ime Udoka a subtle look.
Udoka immediately understood. He nodded quietly and tiptoed out of the room.
"I'm conflicted."
As soon as Udoka left, Popovich finally spoke.
Unlike his usual sharp tone, his words came slowly and unevenly, as though each one had been weighed carefully before leaving his mouth.
"Maybe we shouldn't hold the summer gathering this year."
"Huh?"
Buford froze for a second, then looked at Popovich with surprise.
"Come on, that's our one chance to get everyone together each year. The kids only meet once, and it's been a tradition for so long."
The "gathering" Popovich mentioned was the annual offseason meeting where all Spurs-affiliated executives met in San Antonio—Budenholzer, Kerr, Mike Brown, Brett Brown, Presti, Gentry, Boylen, and others.
They'd catch up, talk shop, and share plans for the coming season.
Through these meetings, the Spurs network always managed to stay one step ahead, getting inside information before anyone else.
When Chen Yilun first arrived in Sacramento, he was still just a young coach—unknown, barely a blip on the radar.
Even so, countless members of the Spurs circle welcomed him in, mentored him, and even collaborated with him on projects.
It was through those gatherings that Chen Yilun built friendships with so many from the Spurs lineage.
"Forget it."
Popovich stretched his neck and slowly rose from the sofa.
"The kids are fighting for the scepter of a new era. No matter what their past relationships were, Steve and Yilun are already locked in a battle to the end."
There was a trace of melancholy in his eyes.
"Calling them back for a reunion now would only make things awkward—for them and for us. Better to let it go."
"The situation's already clear anyway."
Popovich walked over to the counter, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and spoke as he sipped.
"The next few years in the league will belong to LeBron, Durant, and Curry. The rest will just be supporting actors."
"Don't be so pessimistic," Buford said quickly, trying to reassure him. "At least we still have the Double-D and Kawhi's still growing. We've got to have hope for the future."
Popovich just shook his head. After a moment, he asked quietly, "What do you think of Ime Udoka?"
"Ime? He's great… Wait—don't tell me you're thinking—!"
Buford cut himself off, suddenly realizing what Popovich meant, his face going pale.
"Tim's gone, and you've been holding this team together by yourself. If you resign, it'll cause an earthquake!"
Popovich smiled faintly at his partner's panic. "Relax, I'm just talking."
But deep down, the old coach already knew what he wanted. Maybe not right away, but the time wasn't far off.
He had to make way for the new generation.
Better to step down gracefully than be kicked into the mud by his own protégés.
A new era had begun.
Chen Yilun and the others still had a long road ahead.