Chapter 2205 - 25: Does Not Seem Like a True Leader (Part 2)

Chapter 2205: Chapter 25: Does Not Seem Like a True Leader (Part 2)

Stern hoped the NBA could settle into a stable, prosperous state. He knew Ah Gan had that kind of pull, so before the All-Star Game he ran over to Las Vegas again, using "watching the game" as an excuse to sit down with Ah Gan.

The date was February 10th, one week before the All-Star Game tipped off.

A week earlier, in the NFL, the Indiana Colts had beaten the Chicago Bears in the Super Bowl and won the second Super Bowl title in franchise history.

On the same day, Democratic Party senator from Illinois, Barack Obama, announced his candidacy for the 2008 America presidential election. If elected, he would become America’s first Black president.

That night, the Las Vegas Radiance were hosting the defending champion Miami Heat.

The Shaquille O’Neal + Flash Wade combo, after winning the 2006 title, were visibly worn out.

This season, their record had been stuck in the bottom half of the standings, and the veterans were all in poor form.

For a lot of NBA players nowadays, a championship is basically a poisoned chalice: before you drink it you’ll do anything to get a sip, once you’ve drunk it, your whole being just slumps.

The game was still played at a pretty high intensity. The duel between Wade and Allen Iverson, two speed guards, symbolized the struggle over discourse power between the younger generation and the middle generation.

And the clash between Ah Gan and the Shark, these two prehistoric beasts, felt like relics left over from the previous era, for history buffs to come pay their respects.

Individual heroism hit its peak in this game. Wade carried the whole team on his back—drives, jumpers, defense, steals, blocks, there was nothing he couldn’t do.

He’s only 6’4, 1.93 meters. On a court full of giants he’s not that eye‑catching; even among guards he’s not tall.

But Wade’s presence on the floor is huge. He plays smart, moves well off the ball, and on both offense and defense he’s extremely good at seizing opportunities.

Most importantly, he’s got a strong body and a big heart, which guarantees he never lets people down in heavyweight matchups.

After he won the title in 2006, people started saying he was the Ah Gan among guards, single‑handedly helping the Heat win the championship.

Up against "another Ah Gan," Gan Guoyang was just as ruthless in the game. For most of the night he watched Wade dart in and out under the rim.

Then in the clutch of the fourth quarter, Gan Guoyang used a pinpoint block plus a trap‑steal to completely kill off the Heat’s comeback drama.

98–95, Glory beat the Heat, got the win, avoided a losing streak, and continued to cling stubbornly to the upper half of the standings.

After the game, Shaquille O’Neal grabbed Ah Gan and said, "Sonny, you told me once the future is mine—so where exactly is my future?"

Gan Guoyang said, "You’ve already got two rings and you’re still not satisfied? Time to retire."

O’Neal leaned in and whispered, "Let me tell you a secret. If you don’t retire, Pat Riley wants to trade me to Vegas and send you to the Heat."

Gan Guoyang looked utterly incredulous and said, "Has Riley lost his mind? I’m already 42, and he wants to use you to trade for me?"

O’Neal shrugged and said, "Pat doesn’t like me; after we won the title he likes me even less. Whatever. If you really keep playing, remember not to veto that trade—I kinda want to come to Nevada. I’ve already thought up my new nickname: ’the Giant Cactus’!"

Gan Guoyang shook his head. O’Neal was still a big kid, and that guy Riley was still hung up on him? Must have something wrong in his brain!

He went back to the locker room, showered, then left the arena and headed straight to the hotel next door. David Stern was waiting for him in an office.

"Couldn’t we talk tomorrow? I’m dead tired after a game."

"I don’t have that kind of time, Sonny. I have to talk to you face‑to‑face; I’m catching a red‑eye back to New York."

"Then make it quick. I was even thinking of treating you to a shower and a hookup."

"Cut the crap. Let me ask you something, and you answer honestly: is this your last season?"

Faced with Stern’s question in person, Gan Guoyang didn’t deny it. He nodded and said, "Yeah, this will be my last season. I decided that before we tipped off. But you absolutely cannot leak this. Don’t set up some farewell tour with gifts, I don’t need that, thanks."

"You should’ve told me earlier. And why do you have to retire right after this season? There’s a labor negotiation coming up in the summer—if you’re gone, we’re very likely headed for a lockout."

"If it locks out, it locks out. I’m retiring anyway—what the hell does that have to do with me?"

"How does it not? Isn’t Glory your team? You guys need to make money, you have to fulfill that betting‑against clause."

"That clause is a pain, sure. If it really doesn’t work out, I’ll just cut you in on some shares, how about that?"

Stern waved it off. He knew complaining or threatening Ah Gan was useless; you only got anywhere if you coaxed him nicely.

"Sonny, we agreed we’d keep the NBA stable and prosperous."

"Yeah—stable and prosperous. From 1997 till now, that’s 10 years. Still not stable enough? Still not prosperous enough?"

"The players’ appetite keeps getting bigger. I’ve gotten word they might organize a strike at the Las Vegas All-Star Game."

Gan Guoyang wasn’t the least bit surprised by the news. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and handed it to Stern, but Stern wasn’t in the mood to smoke.

Gan Guoyang smelled it but didn’t light it. During the season he quit smoking; he saves it for after he wins a title.

"David, you’re the commissioner of the NBA and you hang around with FBI guys all day, using Secret Agents to monitor players—is that really appropriate?"

Stern shot Gan Guoyang a look and said, "You son of a bitch, did you know about this long ago? Or is this whole thing another one of your schemes?"

Whenever Stern thought of the 1988 union dissolution and the tactics Ah Gan used in the later grand negotiation, his scalp went numb.

He vaguely suspected this might be Ah Gan’s doing, so he’d rushed to Vegas to talk, partly to get an answer.

Gan Guoyang tapped the table and said, "What would I be masterminding? The Players Union is no longer my turf. The old buddies I knew are all retired, and the union president isn’t my guy. Quinn left, and Big and Small Fleischer both became agents and stopped meddling in union affairs. The union sign is still the same, but the people inside have all changed. My influence over the union isn’t that big anymore, and I’ve got no need to play those games."

After he’d effectively become Glory’s owner, Gan Guoyang had consciously distanced himself from the Players Union, no longer exerting direct influence.

He couldn’t be both Party A and Party B at the same time. His role was gradually shifting toward team owner; playing ball was just something he did on the side.

"Besides, if the players want to link up and go on strike, let them. People can’t live in a greenhouse forever—you have to struggle a bit to learn what the wind and rain outside feel like. Don’t you think?"

"So you’re prepared to let them destroy this All-Star Game?"

"Of course not. This is my boss’s brainchild. I still want to live a few more years—I would never allow anyone to wreck this All-Star."

"That’s more like it. You need to come up with something."

"Relax, David. This new generation of players isn’t as formidable as you think. They’ll swallow the sugar‑coated bullets."

NBA players nowadays reek increasingly of utilitarianism and commercialism. They’re more and more inclined to compromise and less and less inclined to fight. That’s just how it is—it’s the problem of the Time.

Back when NBA players dissolved the union in 1988 and threatened the owners, practically the entire League’s players and coaches were involved.

Most of the players were born in the ’50s and ’60s, had lived through Vietnam, all kinds of social movements. Many had marched in the streets and shouted slogans.

Some coaches were World War II veterans with very strong fighting consciousness and iron will, not yet bought off and corroded on a large scale by commercial capital.

Even earlier, in the All-Star strike of the ’60s, a lot of players weren’t much different from rank‑and‑file workers; they were real "laborers." Some guys even worked two jobs.

Now, leaving average players aside, the stars who hold the biggest discourse power are in fact already part of the ownership side. When they go up against the owners, it’s essentially just a struggle over carving up spoils between small capital and big capital.

Most fans who see through it aren’t going to support the players. You guys fight your fight; when you’re done, we watch the games. If you don’t get it done, we’ll go watch something else. Don’t expect an overwhelming wave of public support and imagine that fans and players are on the same side.

Except for a small group of young, extreme, crazy fans, the more rational ordinary fans with jobs have already seen the essence of it.

So Gan Guoyang advised Stern not to worry about what kind of waves these players—who look so mighty on the court—could actually stir up off the court.

"You’d better think harder about who you’re going to prop up after I retire. That’s what should really be giving you headaches."

"LeBron?" The first name Stern blurted out was James.

Gan Guoyang smiled and said, "He doesn’t look like a king to me."