"I told you it was going to get chaotic. You didn't believe me."
In San Antonio, Buford said with a smile.
"Turns out you were right."
Sitting across from him, Popovich slowly swirled the amber liquid in his glass before speaking. "You know, you really were. The league right now—honestly, it's not much different from when MJ was still around."
As blockbuster trades kept getting finalized one after another, the league's landscape continued to shift.
The buzz around the Lakers' Big Three hadn't even faded when the Rockets' reunion of Paul and Griffin seized everyone's attention.
"With all this back and forth, we're the ones taking the hit."
Popovich raised his glass, drained it in one go, and spoke again.
Those two teams had emerged specifically to block the Kings' ascent, but the Spurs—also in the Western Conference—ended up as collateral damage.
The Spurs had originally been transitioning smoothly between generations, firmly seated among the top three in the West.
Now, with the sudden rise of those two teams, their position had instantly become unstable.
"Do you want me to do something?"
Buford asked, curious.
"No need."
Popovich shook his head.
"Trying to forcibly raise the team's ceiling right now is too much of a gamble. Let's stick to our rhythm and move forward step by step."
Popovich had stayed relevant in the league for so many years largely because he knew how to read the situation.
When the outlook was unclear, he would rein himself in and wait. When the opportunity came, he would bare his fangs and go straight for the championship.
That approach might not produce Jordan-style repeat titles, but it ensured long-term competitiveness.
That was why the Spurs had never won back-to-back championships, yet never lacked banners in the rafters.
With the Kings now at their peak, Popovich had clearly decided to avoid a head-on clash.
"Things could get even worse,"
Buford said, shaking his head.
"Tim's gone, and Kawhi's been getting a little restless lately."
He was talking about the Spurs' biggest problem at the moment.
After Duncan's retirement, the Spurs officially handed the reins to Leonard—and Leonard delivered, establishing himself as one of the league's top three forwards.
But as time passed, internal issues began to surface.
Leonard's contract had been signed before the salary cap exploded, so he was making less than $20 million a year.
Next season would be the final year of that deal.
His ability had long placed him among the league's top tier, yet his pay lagged far behind that of his peers.
Naturally, Leonard had his grievances.
On top of that, San Antonio was a small city with limited commercial upside. Leonard had been itching to make a move for quite some time.
As early as last season, Buford had tried to negotiate an early extension, but Leonard's side never gave a clear response.
After this season, in order to keep him, Buford activated the league's designated veteran provision and offered Leonard a super contract—starting at 35% of the salary cap, with 5% annual raises.
It was unprecedented in Spurs history.
If Leonard agreed, he would instantly become the highest-paid player the franchise had ever had.
Yet even faced with such a sincere offer,
Leonard's attitude remained ambiguous.
"If he wants to leave, then let him go!"
Popovich suddenly spoke up. "The Spurs will still be the Spurs without him!"
Popovich understood the contract situation perfectly. He had already sat down with Leonard for several long, candid talks.
But in the tide of a new era, his old-school philosophy was starting to feel out of step.
"What are you saying?"
Buford stared at him in disbelief.
"We can't do that! We can't just throw away a 20-year streak!"
He was referring to one of the Spurs' most important records: 20 consecutive playoff appearances.
Across the league's long history, only three teams—including the Spurs—had ever accomplished that.
"Those kinds of records don't matter."
Popovich leaned forward, grabbed the bottle, and poured himself another drink.
"You know as well as I do—they're bound to end sooner or later. Don't put so much weight on them. Aside from sounding nice, they don't actually do anything."
"Who are you taking a shot at?"
Popovich ignored the comment and continued.
"In any case, the team's structure is solid right now. It's just a shame. Kawhi doesn't want to take up the banner. If he won't, then so be it. We'll just wait for the next chosen one."
At this point, his meaning couldn't have been clearer.
Since Leonard's intention to leave was already obvious, there was no need to cling to any teacher-student sentiment. It was time to squeeze out every last bit of his remaining value.
"Alright, if that's how you see it,"
Buford let out a long sigh. "What a pity."
And it was no wonder he felt that way.
The Spurs' current roster was exceptionally well-constructed. This wasn't strength built by simply piling up stars like the Lakers or Rockets—it was a real, sustainable strength with depth and a future.
They had veterans like Parker and Ginobili who could still contribute, prime All-Stars like Leonard and Aldridge, and a young talent like CJ with limitless upside.
The team was a fusion of past, present, and future. Give them just a little more time,
and Buford truly believed this could have been the start of twenty years of glory.
So close—just a little more time.
"Don't dwell on things that are already decided."
Popovich's expression didn't change as he tried to reassure him.
"Let the news out. Tell the outside world about Leonard's little thoughts. The ones who really want him will come knocking."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser