Steve Kerr switched off the TV, cutting short the image of the Kings celebrating wildly.
"What do you think?" Kerr asked, his tone conflicted.
Until now, Golden State's only real threat in the West had been San Antonio. But as the saying goes, plans never keep up with change. The old man had shockingly fallen to the Kings.
"The student ends up outshining the teacher," sighed Logo Man West from the back row.
"Our whole season of preparing for a rival just went up in smoke?"
"Isn't that a good thing?" Kerr popped a cherry tomato into his mouth and chewed slowly.
"It's both good and bad." West thought for a long while before giving his ambiguous reply.
"The good thing is, on paper, the Kings aren't as strong as the Spurs. I don't know why the Spurs suddenly collapsed in their last two games, but there's no doubt the Kings are easier to deal with."
"The bad thing is we've barely prepared for them. Honestly, I thought maybe under Chen Yilun's coaching they might start giving us trouble next year or the year after. I didn't expect them to already be this far."
West shot Kerr a playful glance. "Funny how it turned out. Our biggest rival used to be your teacher. Now it's your junior. And your junior got here by stepping on your teacher. Quite the family dynamic—brotherly love, huh?"
Kerr smirked but didn't answer.
He'd heard that line plenty of times already. Over the past couple of years, as Popovich got older, many of his disciples had started stirring restlessly.
And with the GDP trio aging, that restlessness was only growing stronger.
Everyone came here for success. These old guys were just blocking the way.
If Kerr guessed right, now that Chen Yilun had beaten his teacher, all that pent-up frustration from the others was bound to boil over.
That would be Popovich's biggest challenge this offseason.
"Talking about it won't change anything."
Kerr put on his coat, ready to leave. "Are you coming to the meeting tonight?"
"I'll pass." West shifted into a more comfortable position. "You all handle it. My old bones don't need to get involved."
...
By nightfall, the Warriors' conference room was packed.
"Our plans have changed. Our Western Conference Finals opponent is now the Sacramento Kings. Any thoughts on how to approach them?" Kerr asked from the head of the table, looking at the staff seated below.
"The Kings are easy," assistant coach Luke Walton was the first to speak. "Their style is similar to ours, but the big difference is they run their offense mostly through Jokic in the paint. All we need to do is shut him down."
"If only it were that simple."
Assistant coach Alvin Gentry let out a cold snort. "If it were that easy, would Popovich have lost?"
Like Kerr, Gentry was also from the Spurs coaching tree. In the original timeline, he should've already been the Pelicans' head coach. But with Chen Yilun's rise, plenty of people's paths had shifted.
"I don't think we need to overhaul our approach just for the Kings," Gentry continued, ignoring Walton's irritated look.
"We still don't know what trick Chen Yilun used to topple the Spurs, but one thing's certain—if they play us straight, we hold the advantage. Don't lose sight of the big picture."
Kerr nodded in approval. That's the value of fellow disciples—sometimes one sentence said exactly what was on his mind.
I'll mention it to the front office later. Best to keep him around. If Gentry left, the top assistant spot would fall to Walton by default.
Kerr glanced at Walton and gave a small shake of his head. Walton was good, but there was still a noticeable gap between him and Gentry.
...
Meanwhile, at an open-air tavern along the Sacramento River, Popovich downed another glass of crisp beer.
"You're one dirty bastard, coming up with that move to take down Duncan."
Across from him, Chen Yilun froze mid-smile. He hadn't expected the old man to say it out loud like that.
But Popovich didn't notice his discomfort, and kept talking.
"Dirty or not, it worked. You completely broke my team. As expected of my disciple."
He picked up the bottle and poured himself another full glass.
"Just like me—win at all costs."
"Coach…" Chen Yilun finally spoke. "Is that supposed to be praise or criticism?"
"Does it matter?" Popovich gave him an amused look.
"Yilun, I've told you before. There's no right or wrong in this league." He set his glass down, fixing Chen Yilun with a sharp stare. "Only survival of the fittest. The strong devour the weak."
"So throw away that pathetic sense of morality. In this business, you can't afford dangerous thoughts like that."
Chen Yilun frowned. "But it's not that dirty, right? Don't you have real bonds with Tim, Manu, and Tony?"
"That's different." Popovich shook his head. "When we met, the league was still old-school. Back then, people weren't so full of schemes. Trying to recreate our success now is nothing but a fantasy."
He sighed. "Players today are too restless. They want stories of young prodigies rising instantly. That forces us managers into tough spots too. Ah—off topic!"
He downed the rest of his glass.
"Steve's got his hands full. Got any ideas?"
"What ideas could I have?" Chen Yilun shook his head with a wry smile. "Seventy-three wins. How am I supposed to beat that?"
Popovich burst out laughing and rolled his eyes. "Spineless! You knocked me out, and now you're scared of Golden State? Play your game. I believe in you."
He stood up. "I should get back to the hotel. There's a fool waiting for me to bring him cake."
He took a couple of steps, then stopped and turned back.
"Go make things tough for your senior brother," the old man said.
"You're both my finest disciples. I'm honored to have taught you."