Unfinished Business.

Two days after the trade deadline passed, Han Sen met the team's two new additions in the locker room.

Shane Battier was much bigger than he imagined, with impressively broad shoulders.

It was easy to see why his nickname was 'Batman.'

The nickname originally came from his name, as 'Battier' sounds like 'Batter.' But when he spread his arms, the width truly gave off a bat-like vibe.

What stood out even more than his physique, though, was his expression.

Not many people can leave an impression just by their facial expressions, but with Battier, you couldn't help but notice.

If Randolph's constant scowl made you think of a ticking time bomb, always on the verge of exploding, Battier's face was like calm water. You looked at him and just knew—you could rely on him.

In his college days at Duke, Battier had another nickname: 'The President.'

It's hard to imagine how much charisma a player needs to earn such a title.

Battier was drafted by the Grizzlies in 2001 but left the team in 2006. The longest-tenured player on the current roster, Rudy Gay, was ironically part of the trade package for Battier.

So, while Battier had a long history with the Grizzlies, none of his former teammates were around anymore.

But as soon as he stepped into the locker room, guys like Conley, Tony Allen, and even Randolph greeted him with smiles and jokes.

Apparently, they all had some good memories from playing against him, even if they hadn't played with him before.

"Shane, you can have my spot," Conley offered as Battier moved toward the locker previously occupied by David West.

"Thanks, Mike, but I'm used to my old spot. It feels more like home," Battier politely declined.

Smooth move. Conley's locker was in a prime spot, symbolizing his status on the team. Accepting the offer could've embarrassed Conley, but rejecting it might've come off as disrespectful.

With one simple reply, Battier managed to keep Conley's pride intact while sticking to his own preference.

"Han, you gave me some tough matchups in our last game," Battier said with a smile as he settled into the locker next to Han Sen's.

Han grinned back. "Your defense wasn't a walk in the park for me either."

"Yao talks about you a lot, you know."

"Yao Ming?" Han was a bit surprised. He hadn't spent much time with the national team, so he didn't expect Yao to mention him often.

"Yeah. He's always praising you, saying you're the future face of Eastern basketball for the next decade."

"He really said that?"

Battier nodded. "He also said you'd surpass him one day."

If Han didn't know Battier was American, he'd think he was sent by the Chinese Basketball Association (CBA) to butter him up.

Still, hearing Yao Ming held him in such high regard was a shock. 

After all, Han's path was different from players like Yi Jianlian and Wang Zhizhi.

Han was totally outside the system—he hadn't played in the CBA, and he'd never represented the national team.

It made sense that he didn't have the same familiarity with people like Yao Ming.

Had the Basketball Association invited him to play in last summer's World Championship, things might have been different, but there are no 'what ifs' in life.

The thought also brought Han back to memories of Yao Ming's later years after retirement — a man with ideas but unable to implement many of them, ultimately receiving more criticism than praise as president of the Basketball Association.

"I figured he'd be more upset I haven't played for the national team," Han joked.

"Nah, he's genuinely impressed by you."

As their conversation deepened, Han and Battier covered everything from basketball to table tennis. They even made plans to play a match sometime.

Their chat only ended when Coach Joerger came in to call the team to practice. As Han stood up, he realized they'd been talking for a long time without him even noticing.

No wonder they called him 'The President'—the guy could make anyone feel comfortable.

As they stood up, Han also noticed the other new addition who had been mostly ignored — Crawford, who seemed thin, especially next to Randolph, making him look like a kid by comparison.

His body language screamed that he wasn't feeling great, probably because he wasn't getting much attention. But hey, who's going to care about a fringe player?

During the scrimmage, Coach Hollins immediately slotted Battier into the starting lineup.

It wasn't a surprise—Battier had always been a starter, and the team had given up a lot to get him. A Sixth Man, a first-round pick, and a young player for a guy with only half a season left on his contract?

There was no way the Grizzlies paid that much just for a bench player, especially since Sam Young was only filling in for the injured Gay.

Naturally, this upset two people: Young, who did nothing wrong but lost his starting spot anyway, and Tony Allen, who'd worked his tail off but still couldn't break into the starting lineup.

It was like a regular office job—nothing killed morale faster than someone parachuting in to take the spot you'd been working for.

After the scrimmage, Han saw Battier talking to Coach Hollins on the sidelines. They spoke for a while, and by the end, Hollins seemed convinced.

When practice wrapped up, Hollins announced the game plan. Surprisingly, Young was still in the starting lineup.

Many of the players instinctively turned to look at Battier. Clearly, Han wasn't the only one who had seen the exchange between Battier and Hollins.

It was obvious: Battier had given up his starting spot.

As soon as Hollins left, Young, who had been visibly downcast during practice, excitedly went over to talk to Battier.

Even Tony Allen later approached him, and the two started working out some defensive drills together.

Something about it felt off to Han. The NBA was ultra-competitive, and here was Battier willingly giving up a starting spot.

It was rare—Vince Carter only let Jordan have his All-Star starting spot because he was pressured into it.

And Battier was still a solid 3-and-D player. Starting him would benefit the team more.

Back at home after practice, Han Sen asked Rondo to get him a ping pong table.

When he'd visited Rudy Gay's house earlier, he thought about setting up a boxing ring. But there wasn't enough space where he was renting, and Battier's mention of table tennis seemed like a good alternative.

 After all, in the eyes of foreigners, every Chinese person knew kung fu and could play ping-pong. While kung fu was mostly a myth, table tennis was a different story.

Han had played plenty of makeshift matches on desks with books for nets during his school days, so the idea brought back good memories.

But when the table arrived, Han realized there was a problem— ping-pong required two people.

2K? No problem. Ping-pong? He needed a partner.

So he quickly called Battier over.

Once they started playing, Han realized Battier had some skill, and they went back and forth in a competitive match.

After the game, as they sat resting, Han couldn't resist asking, "Why did you give up the starting spot yesterday?"

It wasn't an age thing. Battier had started for the Rockets this season.

Battier paused, then smiled. "Han, do you think my career has been successful?"

Han was taken aback by the question. Battier's career wasn't over yet, but at 32, he was definitely nearing the end. Still, he hadn't expected this kind of self-reflection.

"If we're talking championships, no. But in terms of respect around the league? Absolutely," Han said honestly.

Battier wasn't a star, but to come to a new team and instantly earn this kind of respect? That was a success.

"No, I'm a complete failure," Battier said, catching Han off guard.

"Come on, that's too harsh. Plenty of guys never win a ring."

"Did you ever look into the Grizzlies' history after you joined the team?" Battier asked another question.

Han Sen shook his head. He knew the Grizzlies had made the playoffs a few times but never won a title or even reached the Western Conference Finals.

But he still didn't understand why Battier was bringing all this up. Han's initial question was simply about why Battier gave up the starting spot.

"The Grizzlies made the playoffs three times while I was here. Starting in my third year with the team and continuing until the year before I left."

"Isn't that pretty successful?"

Even though the achievement wasn't quite what Han had imagined—it felt like expecting a 100 and finding out you only scored 60—making the playoffs three years in a row still seemed like a success. 

"Do you know what it feels like to make the playoffs three times in a row, only to get swept all three times?" Battier asked with a bitter smile.

Wait, what? Han was genuinely caught off guard. He vaguely remembered Pau Gasol being on the Grizzlies back then too.

How could they have been swept each time? Weren't people always comparing Gasol to Wade in terms of all-star leadership?

It was only then that Han fully understood why reporters reacted so strongly when he said he wanted to win a championship with the Grizzlies.

This wasn't about whether the team had ever made the Finals or the Western Conference Finals—they hadn't even won a single playoff game.

"Helping the team win a playoff game—that's my unfinished business. That's why I came back to Memphis," Battier continued.

Han realized Battier's words aligned perfectly with his actions. It also explained why he had given up the starting role.

The Grizzlies were currently ranked fifth in the West, on the right track, and if Battier came in and immediately took someone's starting spot, it would inevitably create tension within the team.

Battier was willing to make sacrifices for the sake of winning.

"But I still think you starting would be better for the team," Han said, unsure if it was the best move, especially since the current starter was Young, not Gay.

"Han, my legs aren't as fast as they used to be. If I'm up against guys like Kobe or Durant, they'll blow past me with just a simple crossover, and that'll force you to exert more energy on defense. I can still guard them when it counts, but starting? That's not the best option."

Battier had clearly thought things through.

Han was no longer just a role player like he was during his time with the Cavaliers—he was now the core of the Grizzlies' perimeter defense.

Player stamina was limited, and while Han's defense was outstanding, it wasn't realistic to expect him to deliver elite offense and defense all game long.

So, the team's small forward needed to focus more on defense, allowing Han to save his energy for offense, especially at the start of the game.

If Han used up too much energy on defense early on, it would affect his offensive rhythm throughout the game.

That's why starting with Young or Allen was a better fit than Battier.

"Oh, by the way," Battier added, shifting the conversation, "I heard from Tony that you two have been training together, and that you've been working on your mid-range shot?"

Han nodded.

"I can help too. I might not be as quick as Tony, and my hands aren't as fast, but I've got a lot of experience defending the mid-range."

Battier certainly had the right to make that offer. His two signature defensive moves were drawing offensive fouls and contesting shots—especially mid-range ones.

"That'll take up a lot of your time."

"It's not a waste. Helping you improve is helping the team improve, and that helps me finish what I started."

The logic was clear.

But Han could sense there was something different about Battier.

When he heard the words 'unfinished business,' Han's mind immediately flashed to LeBron's 'Homecoming' narrative.

LeBron returned to Cleveland after seeing the team accumulate talent, aiming to lead them to a championship and fulfill his own dream.

But Battier? He was constantly sacrificing and working hard for his unfinished business.

Both players wanted to win, but LeBron seemed to do it more for himself, while Battier, despite appearances, was doing it more for the team.

"Shane, maybe you should aim higher," Han said, an idea suddenly popping into his mind.

"Hmm?" Now it was Battier's turn to be confused.

"Why stop at winning a playoff game? You should join me in bringing Memphis a championship."

That's right, Han remembered Battier had won two championships later in his career with the Miami Heat.

But now that Battier was back in Memphis, how could he let him go off to the Heat again?