Everyone knew—Han Sen never talked trash without purpose.
If the opponent was Kobe, trash talk would only fire him up, make him go into full killer mode.
But with LeBron James? It could crack him mentally.
And that's exactly what happened.
Or to be more precise—you could already hear it in LeBron's postgame comments after they lost Game 5. His mindset was unraveling.
You could see it in how little he wanted to attack.
Most of the time, LeBron just stood on offense with his hands on his hips, looking completely deflated.
And when your leader shows that kind of energy, it ripples through the whole team.
As the saying goes: When the general is useless, the whole army suffers.
Earlier in the series, even when LeBron underperformed, the Pelicans' roster depth still kept the games close.
But once their leader lost his will to fight, the entire squad collapsed.
And with Kings fans getting louder and louder, the scoreboard kept stretching further apart.
In the end, the Kings blew out the Pelicans 113–91, winning the series 4–2 and advancing to the Western Conference Finals.
It was Sacramento's first trip to the West Finals since 2002.
And for Han Sen, it marked his 10th straight Conference Finals appearance since entering the league in 2009.
A historic achievement—especially considering he was now doing it with the Kings.
At this point, a trip to the Conference Finals was his floor, and the gap between him and the next guy wasn't even close.
Their next opponent?
The Golden State Warriors.
The Warriors had swept the Jazz 4–0 in the first round, then handled the Rockets 4–1 in the second. They were on a tear.
Especially against the Rockets—the team that had pushed them to Game 7 just two years ago—they dismantled them with ease.
Beyond Paul George's presence, Steph Curry was having a standout postseason.
Compared to his MVP season, Curry was a little less flashy, but much more composed.
Worth noting: this season, he averaged a career-high 11.7 three-point attempts per game, while shooting 43.7% from deep, and 27.6 points per game—just shy of his MVP numbers.
That helped make the Warriors the only team in the regular season to finish top 3 in both offensive and defensive efficiency.
The Pelicans had been a defense-first team.
The Warriors? Balanced on both ends.
In Game 1 of the West Finals, the Warriors showcased exactly that.
With George and Draymond Green working in tandem, they managed to contain Han Sen to a level they could live with. Meanwhile, Klay Thompson held his own against Tatum.
Of the Kings' young trio, only Donovan Mitchell had a real matchup advantage—and even then, Curry had trouble guarding him…
But the reverse was also true: Mitchell couldn't stop Curry either.
Despite Han Sen scoring 46 points in Game 1, the Kings still lost 108–120.
In Game 2, Tyronn Lue made a bold change—he assigned Han Sen to guard Curry.
It worked to some extent. With Han's added length and wingspan, he gave Curry much less room to breathe.
But Golden State's offense was still relentless.
Tatum struggled to contain George, who had carried his strong regular-season form right into the playoffs.
And with Han exerting so much energy on defense, his offense took a hit in the fourth quarter due to fatigue.
The Kings narrowly lost again, 106–112, and now trailed 0–2 in the series.
After two games, it was clear to everyone: in terms of both talent and experience, the Warriors were the better team.
If nothing unexpected happened, a sweep looked very possible.
But just then, something in the East shifted the narrative entirely.
---
The Eastern Conference playoffs had been even more intense than the West.
Especially in the second round, where the Celtics and 76ers battled to a Game 7 that was only decided by a Durant game-winner.
It wasn't that Boston underperformed—the 76ers were just better than their record suggested.
Especially Jimmy Butler.
In many ways, Butler was cut from the same cloth as Han Sen—better in the playoffs than in the regular season, fearless in big moments, always stepping up in the clutch.
His leadership had been severely underrated.
During the regular season, it wasn't obvious.
But in the postseason, where only the strongest survive, Butler's value became crystal clear.
Still, his physical tools capped his ceiling. And that was the difference between him and Han Sen.
Ultimately, he couldn't take his team as far as Han had.
The Bucks–Raptors series was just as intense.
Milwaukee jumped out to a 2–0 lead behind their balanced offense and defense.
But then Coach Dwane Casey made a big move—he assigned Kawhi Leonard to guard Giannis Antetokounmpo.
It looked like a suicide mission, but Kawhi handled it beautifully, leading the Raptors to two straight wins and tying the series at 2–2.
That's when Milwaukee adjusted again, shifting their offense through Brook Lopez, who dominated Jonas Valančiūnas down low. This forced the Raptors into double teams, which broke their defensive shape.
If the Kings hadn't swooped in and intercepted that Gasol trade earlier in the season, Toronto might've had Marc Gasol—and things could've been different.
But there are no what-ifs in basketball.
The Bucks took advantage, won two straight, and closed the series 4–2 to advance to the East Finals.
There, they met the Celtics.
In Game 1, Boston destroyed Milwaukee 126–106.
Milwaukee had the same flaw as the Pelicans—they were overly reliant on Giannis.
His regular-season numbers had exploded because of increased usage. But when the Celtics packed the paint and forced him outside, his weaknesses resurfaced.
He had improved his shooting, sure—but letting him shoot was still considered a win for the defense.
The same pattern repeated in Game 2, only this time the Bucks' bigger problem was on defense.
Kyrie Irving, Kevin Durant, and a now-fully-formed Karl-Anthony Towns put immense pressure on Milwaukee's defense.
By halftime, the Bucks were already trailing by 15.
Then came the moment that turned everyone's heads.
Early in the third quarter, Giannis closed out under Kyrie's layup attempt and slid his left foot under him.
Kyrie landed on it.
He left the game injured—and didn't return.
Even without Kyrie, the Celtics still had the firepower to hang with Milwaukee.
But something changed.
Durant's shot selection got rushed. Boston's rhythm fell apart. The Bucks smelled blood.
They came back and won the game.
News broke after the final buzzer: Kyrie was done for the season.
The Celtics were suddenly facing a cloud of uncertainty.
What made it worse?
Giannis's postgame comments.
"I didn't know he rolled his ankle. I thought it was a groin pull. I hope he plays next game."
The backlash was immediate.
Some fans believed him—said it was just bad timing, that he didn't know the injury details yet.
But most saw it as cold-blooded.
Whether intentional or not, Kyrie's injury shifted the balance of the entire series. And with him out, the East Finals were now wide open.
---
Of course, the Kings had no time to care about what was happening elsewhere.
Back in Sacramento, Tyronn Lue called Han Sen in for a private meeting—he had an idea. A tactical adjustment unlike anything they'd tried before.
Even Han was surprised when he heard it.
In the first two games, the Kings had started Domantas Sabonis at center. Han figured if Lue wanted to make a change, it would be to start Marc Gasol instead.
After all, the Bucks' series against the Raptors had proven one thing—if you can create an advantage inside, it forces the opponent to adjust defensively.
If Marc Gasol started, Kevon Looney wouldn't be able to contain him. And if Draymond Green had to step in and help, it would open up the Kings' entire offense.
But Lue's plan was something else entirely:
Five-Out.
As the name implies, the strategy involved playing five perimeter players, with no traditional big man inside.
Lue's ideal starting five?
Donovan Mitchell, Buddy Hield, Han Sen, Rudy Gay, and Jayson Tatum.
This was small-ball taken to the extreme—maximum spacing, mobility, and switch-heavy defensive coverage.
And Lue had the guts to go for it because of who they were facing.
If this had been last year's Warriors team, with DeMarcus Cousins, Lue never would've dared. Cousins would've eaten Tatum alive in the paint.
But this year's Warriors had Looney and Draymond up front. Both solid, both capable scorers—but neither had dominant post-up ability.
In fact, their bench didn't have any real low-post threats either. Steve Kerr's system was built entirely around perimeter offense—he never emphasized the interior.
And that was the window Lue wanted to exploit.
But the real key to all of it?
Han Sen.
Game 2 had proven one thing—beating the Warriors with defense alone wasn't going to cut it. But matching them in a shootout wasn't realistic either—not with the current Kings roster.
So what was the only path left?
Slow the game down.
That sounded counterintuitive. Five-out usually meant a faster pace, more possessions.
But with Han on the floor, there was another option.
That's what made Lue's idea brilliant: use Han's post game as the fulcrum.
Let Han operate in the low block, just like the Bucks used Brook Lopez to punish the Raptors. Force the defense to react.
The Warriors' defensive scheme was far better than Toronto's—but Han's presence in the post was also far more dangerous than Lopez.
As for the rest of the young core, they'd already proven they could step up when defenses weren't locked in on them.
And as for who would feed Han the ball in the post?
Whether it was Sabonis or Marc Gasol, Lue clearly preferred Gasol after the first two games. Both were capable, but Gasol's post-entry passes were rock solid.
After hearing the entire tactical breakdown, Han looked at Lue in shock.
Genuine shock.
Because as much as he hated to admit it, after the first two losses, Han had started to accept the truth:
They might not have a real shot this year.
Let the young guys grow. Come back stronger next season. That was the reasonable plan.
But now?
Now Lue was tossing that plan out the window.
This five-out evolution—it might actually work.
Say what you want about Tyronn Lue's day-to-day coaching—he wasn't always perfect.
But when it came to big-game creativity?
He was a damn genius.
Han couldn't help himself.
He gave Lue a big thumbs-up. "You really are a tactical madman."
Lue, clearly catching the signal, broke into a wide grin.
Han meant what he said.
"I'm starting to think bringing you to Sacramento might've been the best decision I ever made," Han added.
It was like marrying someone for their looks—only to find out later they had depth, empathy, and vision.
That night, Lue called an emergency practice.
In theory, implementing a new offensive system like this takes weeks of in-game reps, testing, and chemistry-building.
But the Kings didn't have time.
They had less than a day before Game 3.
The good news?
Their previous "Death Lineup" was already a close cousin of this strategy. So really, this wasn't building from scratch—it was an evolution, not a total reboot. That made it workable.
Most importantly, the success of this system depended entirely on one man:
Han Sen.
During his time with the Kings, Han had played mostly at small forward—but his playstyle still mirrored his Cavs days: facing up, attacking from the perimeter.
Now he'd have to shift—back to the basket.
A completely different approach.
For a normal player? That kind of change this late in a season would be massive.
But Han wasn't normal.
Unlike someone like Tatum, who was versatile in the traditional sense, Han was truly all-around elite—in every phase of the game.
The only thing that could hold him back was age or wear and tear.
But at 30, he was still squarely in his prime. Physically dominant. Mentally sharp.
This adjustment?
Light work.
By the time Game 3 arrived, after the final practice, Lue gathered the team for one last speech.
He gave them a story.
"Eight years ago, the Dallas Mavericks were the third seed in the West. No one saw them as real contenders. But they swept the defending champion Lakers… pulled off multiple comebacks… and beat the so-called greatest team in history—the Miami Heat Big Three.
They did the impossible. That's still the most legendary title I've ever witnessed."
He took a deep breath. His eyes were lit up.
"Now it's our turn.
Let's give everything we've got—and become the next legend."