LeBron James' "choices" in Game 7's overtime—and the final loss—hit the Boston Celtics like a boulder in a still lake, sending ripples through the organization that wouldn't fade. To the outside world, it was just a crushing near-miss. But team management saw something deeper: a shifting power dynamic, and a choice about the future.
Inside Danny Ainge's office, the air felt thick with pre-storm tension. Footage from the Finals—especially overtime—played on loop across the screen. Ainge, head coach Doc Rivers (who'd replaced O'Brien in this alternate timeline), and key front-office executives sat around, silent.
The video froze on the final play: LeBron James holding the ball at the top of the key, the clock ticking down, then passing to a tightly guarded Paul Pierce. The ball slipped off Pierce's fingers and out of bounds.
Coach Rivers rubbed his forehead. "The last-play call was clear—we just messed up the execution. LeBron drew the defense, Paul didn't secure the pass. It's a shame, but that's basketball."
A lead data analyst stepped forward, pulling up another set of numbers on a second screen. "Coach, Mr. Ainge—let's zoom out. Over seven games, LeBron averaged 34.1 points, 11.3 rebounds, 10.2 assists, on 48% shooting. Paul averaged 24.5 points, 6.8 rebounds, 3.5 assists, on 41%. LeBron's got a clear edge in advanced stats too—Offensive Rating, Win Shares, you name it."
He paused, dropping the most critical point. "And LeBron's only 18. His talent, his basketball IQ, his impact—especially how he carried us in overtime, fighting to cut the lead—this is a kid with a ceiling that could define the next decade. Paul? He's a great warrior, 'The Truth'—but he's turning 30 soon. How much of his prime does he have left?"
Ainge's fingers tapped the desk, his gaze sharp. "What's your conclusion?"
"The conclusion?" The analyst took a breath. "If we're building for 5-10 years of competitiveness, centering the team around LeBron James is the move that maximizes our upside. Paul Pierce is still great—but he fits better as a second star on a title team… or as a valuable asset to trade for that final missing piece."
Silence filled the room. Trade Pierce? The idea was bold—borderline sacrilegious. He was Boston's icon, the guy who'd stayed through the低谷 (down years).
Coach Rivers tried to push back. "What about the locker room? The fans? Paul gave this city everything!"
Ainge cut him off, his tone cold and practical. "Doc, our goal is to win championships—plural. Emotion matters, but smart decisions matter more. LeBron's shown dominance beyond his years… and a cold, ruthless hunger to win. We all saw how he played in overtime. Our job is to build the right roster around him, to unlock that talent."
He pulled up a scouting report—Seattle SuperSonics star Ray Allen. "Seattle's rebuilding. They want young players and picks. Ray's 32, but he's still one of the league's best shooters, one of the best off-ball players ever. His game fits LeBron's drive-and-kick perfectly. Imagine LeBron drawing a double team, then hitting Ray wide open on the perimeter… what does that look like?"
A shocking plan took shape: Trade Paul Pierce as the centerpiece to Seattle for Ray Allen.
"That's insane!" Rivers exclaimed.
"It's business. It's strategy," Ainge said firmly. "Trade a 30-year-old, ball-dominant wing for a 32-year-old, team-first, all-time shooter who fits seamlessly with LeBron and expands our playbook. This fixes our inconsistent perimeter scoring, our spacing issues. And Ray's professionalism, his humility—he won't fight LeBron for control of the locker room."
After hours of heated debate, the desire to win titles and the bet on LeBron's potential outweighed sentiment. A secret trade plan began to take form.
Meanwhile, LeBron James wasn't wallowing in the loss. He knew one game wouldn't define his career—but what management did next would shape his path.
Through his connections, he'd heard whispers of roster changes. He didn't rush to act. Instead, at a private community event, he spoke passionately to Boston fans: "I love this city. I love these fans. We took a tough loss, but it'll only make us stronger. I trust management to do what's best for the team. No matter what, my goal's the same: Bring Boston more than one championship."
It was a masterclass—calming fans, subtly signaling his "loyalty" and ambition, and positioning himself as the future, waiting for the team to build around him.
A few days later, Ainge "happened" to run into LeBron after practice.
"LeBron—what do you think about the team's future?" Ainge cut to the chase.
LeBron stayed calm. "Sir, I think we're close. We've got tough defense, great players. But maybe… we're missing that elite spacing, that consistent perimeter finish. If we had someone who punishes teams for collapsing the paint, my drives and Paul's isolations would be a lot easier."
He never named names—but every word highlighted Ray Allen's value, and indirectly pointed out how Pierce's style cramped spacing.
Ainge studied him. "We'll consider all options. To get better."
Paul Pierce wasn't blind to the tension. Media rumors, management's silence, LeBron's line about "management doing what's best"—all made him uneasy.
He went straight to Ainge. "Danny, tell me. What's the team's plan? I'm Boston's leader—I need to know."
Ainge gave him a corporate answer. "Paul, you're a hero to this city. Everything we do is to help you and LeBron win better together. We're exploring every way to upgrade the roster."
Pierce didn't get the answer he wanted. His doubts grew. He thought back to the playoffs—especially those "perfectly timed" passes from LeBron in the Finals, that overtime "solo act." A cold, calculating feeling settled over him.
Trade talks stayed under wraps. Ainge's overseas calls to Seattle's GM became frequent. Finally, a framework emerged:
Boston Celtics send: Paul Pierce, Ricky Davis (young player to match salary), a future first-round pick
Seattle SuperSonics send: Ray Allen
Basketball-wise, it was a win-win. Boston got the elite shooter they'd dreamed of, building a system tailor-made for LeBron. Seattle got a star still in his late prime (who could sell tickets) and future assets, speeding up their rebuild.
Emotionally? It was a nuclear blast.
When the trade broke, Boston—and the entire league—stunned.
"The Celtics are crazy?! They traded 'The Truth'!"
"Cold-blooded! No loyalty!"
"Did LeBron force this? Did he run Pierce out?"
When Pierce heard the news, reports said he sat in silence at home for an hour. Then he released a short, controlled statement: "I gave Boston everything I had. I respect management's decision, but my heart will always be with the fans here. Next, I'll continue my career in Seattle."
Loss and bitterness seeped through his words.
LeBron James stepped up immediately, facing a swarm of reporters. His expression was somber, his tone perfectly measured:
"Paul's a brother I respect—he's a Celtic legend. His departure hurts. I get why fans are upset. But I trust Danny Ainge and the coaching staff—they're doing this to win. Ray Allen's a future Hall of Famer. He'll help us so much. I can't wait to practice with him. Our goal never changed—win a championship."
He mourned Pierce "publicly" while shifting focus to Ray's arrival, cleverly distancing himself from "forcing the trade" and shaping his image as a team-first young leader.
Management echoed the narrative, calling it "an incredibly tough, basketball-only strategic decision" aimed at "building a more spaced, efficient modern team around LeBron James."
In the locker room, change was immediate. Ray Allen's arrival brought instant tactical value. His off-ball movement, pinpoint shooting, and professionalism won over teammates fast. In practice, their pick-and-pop plays, LeBron's drives leading to Ray's catch-and-shoots—they already looked dangerous.
LeBron made a point to talk tactics with Ray, showing he welcomed his new teammate. But beneath the harmony, LeBron's role as the sole core was cemented. Pierce's exit cleared the last star who could challenge him for playcall control or media attention. Ray's personality and style made him the perfect "Pippen" at LeBron's side.
Fan anger faded, replaced by curiosity and excitement. LeBron + Ray Allen in the backcourt, plus their existing defense—on paper, they were better than before.
Danny Ainge had rolled the dice. He'd bet the team's present and future, gambled with fan sentiment, and put all his chips on LeBron James.
LeBron stood in the gym, watching Ray Allen sink three after three from the corner. His expression was calm, but ambition burned in his eyes.
He knew it now: The Boston Celtics were his, fully. All obstacles were gone. The perfect weapon for his game was in place. The reborn king finally had the chessboard—and the pieces—he'd always wanted.
Next step: Conquer, starting right here in Boston.