Trades.

This trade deadline day saw the Western Conference's titans making moves one after another.

First up was the Los Angeles crew. They traded away team veteran Luke Walton, along with a second-round pick, to the Nuggets to reacquire former player Ronny Turiaf.

More precisely, this should be called a four-team trade, as it involved the Wizards, Nuggets, and Clippers in a three-team deal.

The core of that deal was Nene, JaVale McGee, and Nick Young; Turiaf was there just to make the contracts match, and he essentially had no trade value.

Essentially, it was a swap of unwanted contracts, but since Walton's contract had an extra year, the Lakers had to add a draft pick.

However, this operation was still commendable. Trading the benchwarmer Walton for a defensive-minded big man could be considered an A-grade move.

Next up was San Antonio, led by Han Sen.

The Spurs sent Jefferson to the Warriors in exchange for Stephen Jackson.

On the surface, this appeared to be a swap of starting small forwards, but in reality, it was to make room for Leonard.

Leonard had slipped out of the lottery not just because of average dynamic stats but largely because he hadn't developed a shooting touch before the draft.

Now, however, he had. With a season-long three-point percentage of 37.6%, he wasn't elite, but it was definitely good enough.

As for why Jefferson wasn't directly relegated to the bench, the answer was that he had taken a pay cut to join the Spurs, and the team had given him a promise of a starting role.

Jackson, on the other hand, was an ex-Spur and a member of the 2003 championship team, so it was much easier to handle the situation with him.

Next up were the Grizzlies.

They traded newly acquired center Przybilla, along with a 2013 first-round pick, to the 76ers to bring in 6'10" big man Marreese Speights.

This was an insurance move in case Randolph's comeback form wasn't ideal.

In the first game after the trade deadline, the Grizzlies hosted the Nuggets and won 98-89.

Speights was inserted into the starting lineup right from his debut.

In his debut game, he played 24 minutes, scoring 8 points on 4-of-8 shooting, grabbing 9 rebounds, and collecting 3 offensive boards—overall, a pretty solid performance.

At the post-game press conference, Han Sen praised the team's new addition.

"It's only his first game with the team, but he's shown a high basketball IQ and professionalism, which has been a big help for us."

Han Sen wasn't exaggerating; his impression of Speights was mainly from his time with the Warriors, where Speights was a core part of the rotation for their 2015 championship.

There's actually a funny story about this.

When Speights left the Warriors after his contract expired, many thought he was still on the team because David West, who looked and played similarly, joined them the following season.

Both players were known for their pick-and-pop and mid-range shooting, making it easy to mix them up.

...

In the upcoming games against the Pistons and Raptors, Speights maintained his impressive performance, helping the team secure a three-game winning streak.

This streak raised fans' anticipation for Randolph's return even more, as Speights was, in essence, a budget version of Randolph.

Speights had a reliable mid-range shot, but that was only one of many weapons in Randolph's arsenal.

Randolph's injury was a setback for the Grizzlies, but it was a blessing in disguise, as it allowed Han Sen to grow into a core ball-handler.

If Speights could play well alongside Han Sen, fans were excited to see what kind of chemistry Randolph and Han Sen would develop when he returned.

However, the Grizzlies weren't in a rush to bring Randolph back.

It was better to have Randolph return to peak form through training than for him to rush back to regain his form in games.

But at that moment, an unhappy voice emerged within the Grizzlies.

During an open practice, Faried publicly expressed his dissatisfaction to reporters, saying, "I should play a more important role on the team. I should be a starter."

After that practice session, Joerger approached Han Sen to discuss Faried's issue.

"I spoke with him before making the adjustment. Starting Marreese (Speights) benefits our spacing. I won't cut his playing time," Joerger, unlike Hollins or Brown, had indeed communicated this beforehand.

Joerger's intention in approaching Han Sen was clear—he wanted Han to try talking to him.

Since Randolph's absence, Han Sen had built significant respect within the team through his performance and now held the most influence.

Joerger had already tried sending Battier to talk to Faried, but it hadn't worked well.

Faried did indeed have a bit of a headstrong personality, just as Han Sen had sensed initially.

"I'll give it a try," Han Sen agreed.

Faried was now a crucial part of the frontcourt rotation, playing with passion and often serving as the X-factor on certain nights.

The game against the Heat had shown that he had the physicality and courage to play aggressively, which could be an asset against LeBron's team.

And because of their shared experience of getting moved around in the locker room, Han Sen felt a natural empathy toward Faried.

In a way, what was happening now was similar to Han Sen's experience back in Cleveland.

Faried had worked his way into the starting lineup, only to be pulled out without doing anything wrong.

Even though he had been coming off the bench recently, his performance was comparable to, if not better than, Speights's, especially in rebounding and defense.

Faried reminded Han Sen of his younger self, and now Han found himself in a position similar to LeBron's.

But Han Sen wasn't the "King of Memphis" and didn't need to act arrogant, so unlike his Cleveland days, he and Faried had never clashed.

And it was precisely because of his Cleveland experience that Han Sen understood Faried's actions and the potential impact on the team if this wasn't handled properly.

When Han Sen found Faried, he was sweating it out in the training facility.

Faried wasn't the most naturally talented player, or he wouldn't have dropped to the 22nd pick, but he was definitely one of the hardest-working, both on and off the court.

When Faried saw Han Sen, he paused, looking puzzled.

"Come on, let's play a couple of rounds," Han Sen said.

Faried looked eager, more than ready to burn off some frustration.

Faried's defense was decent.

Although his height limited him from becoming an elite inside defender, his solid mobility made him capable of guarding smaller players on the inside.

But, after all, he was a rookie, and the person he was up against was Han Sen.

In the first game, Han got the ball first, and Faried couldn't stop a single shot.

Han Sen's skillful mix of drives and jumpshots left Faried helpless, getting beaten cleanly multiple times.

Without a word, Han tossed the ball to Faried at the start of the second game, letting him take the first move.

Faried put all his strength into it, but against Han, he couldn't score at all.

In theory, Faried had a weight and strength advantage and could score at the rim if he got there.

The reality? He couldn't even get close.

It was like watching a college center trying to drive on a seasoned pro — Han was too fast, and starting from the three-point line was nothing like getting a feed near the basket.

To make matters worse, Faried lacked the shooting ability to make Han hesitate, leaving him with no real openings.

When the game ended, Faried was visibly deflated.

Never mind two games — twenty would end the same way.

"Let's chat?" Han said, gesturing to a nearby bench.

Faried nodded, catching his breath.

"When I was in Cleveland, I did something similar to what you just did," Han said, handing him a bottle of water.

Faried paused, looking at Han with surprise.

Honestly, as long as it wasn't someone like Rudy Gay, most players probably could have guessed why Han pulled him aside, but he hadn't expected to hear that.

It wasn't until Han tapped his hand with the bottle that Faried snapped out of his daze and took it.

"Do you regret it now?"

"Regret? Why would I regret it? I don't think I did anything wrong, just like I don't think you did either."

Although Joerger claimed to have spoken with Faried, his desire to start hadn't been satisfied.

Faried stopped twisting the cap, looking at Han, eyes wide.

He hadn't expected him to say that — for a second, he wondered if he'd misunderstood why Han had called him over.

"Later on, I requested a trade."

"And that's how you ended up in Memphis?" Faried asked, taking a sip. As a rookie, he hadn't heard much about Han's early career.

"Nope. They didn't want to trade me. So I led the third team to demolish the first and second teams in practice. Then, the team gave me everything I'd asked for."

Faried choked, coughing on his water.

Third team beating the first and second? That sounded impossible!

But once he caught his breath, he glanced at Han, realizing he hadn't even broken a sweat playing him just now...

He was a rookie, sure, but he'd never been outclassed like this before — not even against LeBron in the game against Heat.

In that moment, he saw Han Sen in a completely new light.

A guy bold enough to declare that the Grizzlies' only goal was the championship in a season with superteams like the Lakers and Heat? He wasn't an ordinary person.

"Kenneth, the biggest difference between the NBA and the NCAA is that the NBA is a business. It's like a jungle, and making noise won't get you what you want. Only strength will."

Faried seemed to be thinking.

If Han Sen had started with that speech, he might've resisted, probably letting it go in one ear and out the other, but after sharing a similar experience, it was hard not to relate.

"Kenneth, there's only one area where you fall short of Marreese — your shooting," Han added.

Faried wasn't among the most gifted players, but he was certainly more promising than Speights, with a much higher ceiling.

"But I'm better than him in every other way," Faried said, a bit defensive.

"So why not work on the one area where you're worse?" Han's question hit him straight in the core.

What Han knew of Faried's future career came mostly from his days with the Nuggets — a fast, athletic player.

But after that? Han hadn't heard his name much.

He hadn't heard of Faried suffering any serious injuries either, which left one other possibility: he'd simply been left behind by the game.

As the league demanded more shooting ability from its big men, players like Faried, who couldn't shoot, had mostly been eliminated.

Especially since Faried was an undersized big; no matter how good his defense was, he couldn't protect the paint like Gobert.

But if he could add a reliable jump shot — even just a mid-range one — his career might turn out very differently.

"Don't tell me it's impossible. Even LeBron developed a three-pointer in Miami this season, after seven years without one."

Faried wanted to say something, but Han's point left him speechless.

"Keep working at it, Kenneth!" Han clapped Faried on the shoulder as he stood up.

"When the team decided to trade Joel, it was to make room for you. Your current skill set is better suited for the five. But if you add a jump shot, you could play both the four and five. Then, you'll be indispensable."

With Randolph around, Faried wouldn't get a starting spot.

Faried understood that. On the surface, he was fighting for a starting role, but in reality, he worried that he'd lose his spot entirely when Randolph returned.

And Han Sen was right. If the Grizzlies had traded Johnson instead, Faried would be competing with Speights and Przybilla.

At the four, he'd lack the shooting ability Speights had, and at the five, he'd lack Przybilla's height. Faried would truly have no place.

The Grizzlies had obviously considered all this, and Faried's own performance had earned him this opportunity.

Faried stood up, giving a firm nod of understanding.

...

"I swear, Han should go straight into coaching when he retires," Joerger said to Damon as they watched Faried return to practice with renewed energy.

Joerger had been a coach long enough to know how troublesome it could be to manage headstrong players. Yet Han had solved the issue in one shot.

Then again, Han had only been with the Grizzlies for a little over a year, and no one dared oppose him.

Even eccentric personalities like Gay and Randolph got along well with him.

Those people skills were arguably more powerful than his on-court abilities.

As someone who also valued communication, Joerger knew it could bring out the best in a team.

"Coaching? He's more likely to go straight to being an owner," Damon replied, knowing Han better than Joerger did.

NBA coaches had little control, and Han wouldn't be the type to put up with players' egos.

"Like Michael?" Joerger chuckled.

...

A week later, the Grizzlies were set to face the Lakers again.

After two months of recovery, Randolph was also ready to make his return in the game against the Lakers.

"We'll get them back."

Thanks to Han Sen's statement after their last game, the rematch in Memphis, now nationally televised, had garnered a lot of attention.

Han Sen, too, was eager. After facing intense opposition, his [Uncle Drew] talent had leveled up rapidly and was nearing its peak.

That allowed him to perform several high-difficulty moves he couldn't pull off before.

During the Lakers' pregame open practice, Kobe left the court as soon as the session ended.

Chris Paul stayed back to answer questions from the media.

"I know Randolph will be back for this game. He wants to beat us, Han wants to beat us, every team in the West wants to beat us, but we don't care about any of that. Our only opponent is ourselves."

Paul looked calm when asked about Han Sen's previous remarks.

But when these words reached the Grizzlies' locker room, the players felt annoyed.

"He really thinks they've got it in the bag, huh?" Even Gay could hear the arrogance in Paul's words.

"If you're the top team, I guess you can act like that," Randolph said, adjusting his headband.

"And that's only because you were injured!" Gay retorted.

Randolph paused, ready to snap back — he'd had enough of Gay's digs.

"Rudy," Han interrupted, keeping the peace. Those two had about as much chemistry as "Dumb" and "Grumpy."

"Do you remember what LeBron said before we played the Heat?"

"I don't see how we could lose," Gay replied, recalling it.

"CP3 and LeBron are the best of friends," Han reminded him.

The infamous 'Banana Boat Crew' of the league: LeBron, Wade, Carmelo, and Chris Paul.

Out of the four, James and Paul were closest, having been tight since high school. Wade and Carmelo had actually met LeBron through Paul.

And James and Paul had a lot in common; they were business-minded players—often called 'smart' players—who made a killing on and off the court.

In fact, from what Han Sen knew of 'history,' they were the only two who had ever turned down a championship that didn't come with Finals MVP.

"They're two of a kind!" Gay sneered.

Hearing this, Randolph sat back down. Compared to Gay, James and Paul bothered him even more.

"So, CP3 will pay the price for his arrogance."

Han's words shifted the tension in the locker room, uniting the team against a common enemy.

For all their 'smarts,' James and Paul had a knack for saying the wrong things at the wrong time.

If you don't respect your opponents, don't expect respect in return.

And one more thing: Okafor, who was out last time, would be playing this game. Both teams would be at full strength.

Han Sen was looking forward to seeing how his team would fare against the Lakers team that Kobe fans were already declaring champions.

-End of chapter-