"What a great answer! No complicated tactics—just a simple pick-and-roll and pull-up jumper. The Warriors paid the price for underestimating their opponent."
Kenny praised. "Honestly, I thought this was going to be a one-sided game, but it's been full of twists and turns!"
On the court, CJ McCollum glanced at his shooting hand, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. When he'd taken that last shot, a familiar but long-lost feeling had returned.
It wasn't that he'd never felt it before—on the contrary, it was once second nature to him. Back in college, when he dominated the NCAA as the team's core player, every shot felt like that—smooth, certain, unstoppable.
But after entering the league, facing the game at its highest level and realizing his own limitations, that feeling had vanished… until now.
"CJ McCollum for three! The Kings take the lead again!" The arena DJ jumped on the mic, igniting the home crowd.
Stephen Curry glanced at the scoreboard—CJ's three had put the Kings up 95–93.
The Warriors ran their elevator doors action again. Curry got the ball and, despite CJ's desperate closeout, still got the shot off.
Bang! It clanked out. Curry shook his head as the ball veered away. The look was there, but he couldn't convert. Even for a player who built his career on threes, not every shot will drop.
To be fair, Curry had been on fire all night—seven makes on ten attempts from deep. Without him, the Warriors might've been run off the floor by the Kings' relentless offense.
The Kings struck again, putting on a dazzling display of ball movement that ended in the corner with Ben McLemore. Klay Thompson flew out to contest, but McLemore—a Ray Allen–type—rose straight up and drilled a picture-perfect jumper.
"Nice shot!" Mike Malone pumped his fist on the sideline. Those two threes were a lifesaver, keeping the Kings' momentum alive and pushing the lead back to five.
Meanwhile, Steve Kerr frowned. By all rights, neither of those two shots should have gone in. CJ's pull-up after a dribble and McLemore's contested triple over tight defense? Ridiculous.
Curry answered with a drive, gliding past DeMarcus Cousins for a soft layup. But that was the Warriors' last gasp. In the fourth quarter, the Kings looked like a different team—pouring on the offense, raining threes from everywhere.
The final blow came when Andrew Bogut ran out of gas. He'd played nearly the whole game with barely a rest, forced to guard Cousins or Nikola Jokić on every possession—two bigs who could punish him inside.
Malone had carefully managed Cousins' minutes, keeping him fresh. By the late fourth, Cousins was flying around the paint while Bogut could barely keep up, huffing and puffing.
With two minutes left and the Kings up double digits, Kerr waved the white flag, pulling his starters. Malone followed suit, putting in the bench for garbage time.
When the final buzzer sounded, the arena erupted. Fans celebrated like they'd just won the championship.
After years of being a league doormat, Sacramento finally saw the light of revival. How could the city not be fired up?
Final score: 126–118. The Kings secured their first home win by eight points.
CJ McCollum finished with 18 points and 7 assists. Rudy Gay added 15 points, 8 boards, and 6 assists. Cousins powered to a huge double-double—25 points and 17 rebounds—thanks to big bursts in the first and final quarters.
The pleasant surprise? Zach LaVine's 18 points and Jokić's near triple-double—13 points, 9 rebounds, and 12 assists—despite playing extended minutes to conserve Cousins' energy.
After the game, Kerr shook hands with Malone, then spotted Chen Yilun near the stands. Smiling, he walked over.
"Chen!" Kerr gripped his hand firmly and patted his arm. "Pop (Gregg Popovich) told me a while back to look after you if I ever got the chance. Guess tonight you ended up looking after me."
Chen Yilun chuckled wryly. "Steve, the credit goes to Mike and the players. I can't take it."
Kerr laughed, then slung an arm over his shoulder. "Rookie, ever think about joining the Warriors' front office? After tonight, people are going to know your name. Jerry's not here today, but I'm sure he'd want you on board too."
The "Jerry" he meant was none other than Jerry West, the Logo, and the Warriors' head of basketball operations.
"Thanks, but I just joined the Kings. Not looking to change bosses yet. Besides…" Chen smirked. "You guys are already perfect—no need for me to mess with it."
"Hahaha!" Kerr found that genuinely amusing. "Alright, let's have dinner tonight—good to strengthen our coaching-tree ties."
…
As expected, Chen was swarmed at the post-game press conference. Hard not to be, with five players in double figures—three of them new offseason acquisitions. He was clearly the architect behind it.
Plus, Kerr had just finished showering him with praise at the Warriors' own presser, making him sound like he could turn anything to gold.
"Chen, as the team's GM, how do you respond to Coach Kerr calling you the primary force behind the team's revival?"
Chen took a deep breath. "First, I appreciate Coach Kerr's recognition of our management team, but I'm definitely not the main contributor. The coaches' training and the players' hard work over the summer—that's what's driving this revival. And it's only game one. We still have a long road ahead."
"Take Jokić for example—when I first met him, he was round as a ball." The room erupted in laughter, and Jokić ducked his head in embarrassment.
"But after he got to the U.S., our Vladi Divac trained him intensively all summer. That's why you saw the performance he had today."
Chen spread his hands. "There's no single hero here. Everyone's united, working toward the same goal. That's the secret to bringing the Kings back to the top. I'm glad we're on this path, and I believe we'll meet again soon—with even better results."
Leaving the arena humming a tune, Chen ran into Divac in the parking lot.
"Chen, I owe you an apology," Divac admitted, looking awkward. Not only had he watched tonight's game, but the player he'd once championed—Nik Stauskas—had been destroyed in another matchup earlier.
One win, one disaster—proof his earlier decision was dead wrong.
"Hey, forget it, Vladi." Chen tilted his head back to meet Divac's gaze. Talking to him like this regularly might cure his neck pain.
"We're all working for the team. Sure, we'll disagree sometimes, but as long as we're aiming for the same goal, we'll never be enemies." He tried to pat Divac's shoulder, but realizing he couldn't reach, settled for a pat on the arm.
"Don't dwell on it. We all make mistakes. We won tonight—let's enjoy it."
…
The next day, the Kings' win over the Warriors was splashed across Sports Illustrated headlines:
Purple Whirlwind Strikes Again? Kings Defeat the Warriors
Kings Complete Rebuild, Princeton System Back in Force
Rookie GM Chen Yilun Powers the Kings' Revival
The news rippled through the league, but no one felt the sting more than the Trail Blazers' front office.
"Someone tell me—why did we trade CJ McCollum and only get Fredette and a first-rounder in return?" The Blazers' owner slammed a newspaper onto the GM's desk.
The GM could only sigh. He hadn't seen this coming either. CJ had been merely average last season. Trading him for a first-round pick and Fredette had seemed like a win.
Who could've guessed that the joke would be on him? Now, it was a loss for the ages.
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