Chapter 614 - 540: What a Fucking Bastard

Chapter 614: Chapter 540: What a Fucking Bastard

The promos for today’s show started airing in the afternoon.

「Far away in San Antonio.」

Buford headed to Popovich’s office, eager to share some good news.

Like a wandering bird returning to its nest, the Spurs had finally reached an agreement with Tony Masonberg today, signing him back on a one-year veteran’s minimum contract.

The veteran, originally drafted by the Spurs in ’90, had twice left the NBA to play in Europe.

Last season, at 36 years old, he was the primary backup for Weber on the Kings and still managed to contribute 4.3 points and 3.2 rebounds. He still had some gas left in the tank.

Upon entering Popovich’s office, he found Popovich standing in front of the TV in the corner, his eyes glued to ABC Television.

It was playing a promo for Chen Yu’s show.

"Greg, why are you watching this?" Buford walked over and asked, puzzled.

He really couldn’t see what was so interesting about a TV show.

Sure, these kids were all talents Chen Yu had scouted from across the United States, but they were already within the observation range of the NBA’s scouting system. And as for the so-called "Little NBA" 3v3 games they played, which the media hyped up, Buford saw them as having absolutely no reference value.

He had no idea how Chen Yu had managed to trick Stern into getting the league to provide scouts and referees, and even to mimic the league’s competition format.

Years ago, when David Falcao tried to get Jordan to start a separate league, Stern’s reaction had been much more severe.

Popovich pointed at the television.

On the screen, the promo showed a clip of Little Jordan and Durant arguing during practice.

Judging from the promo alone, it seemed Little Jordan had returned. The promo didn’t reveal who Durant actually chose, though.

But since Little Jordan was back, Popovich subconsciously assumed that Durant had chosen Little Jordan after all.

But a choice was a choice. After rejoining the team, Little Jordan still had a fierce conflict with Durant.

The team kept losing, and a humbled Durant was constantly passing the ball to Little Jordan.

"It was Sam who told me. He said he thinks this Kevin Durant is extremely talented, and he’s as certain about it as he was about Parker’s talent back in the day."

Presti was still with the Spurs, after all.

Although he’d signed a non-disclosure agreement with the show’s production team and couldn’t reveal too much critical information, some things could still be shared—like telling Popovich just how talented Durant was.

Buford immediately looked toward the television.

Presti’s keen eye for talent back then, single-handedly discovering Parker, had been a massive win for the Spurs.

A small-market team like the Spurs could only rely on their sharp judgment, digging for treasures in the draft.

Popovich continued, "Based on his age, he should be entering the league in ’06. If he’s really that talented, we can actually start preparing early."

"And then there’s this Oden."

He brought up Oden again.

’If we could get him to partner with Duncan, that would practically be the next David Robinson.’

Of course, with Oden’s stock, he was projected to be a guaranteed top-three pick. The Spurs couldn’t even dream of getting their hands on him.

"Robert, have someone find more game tapes of these kids later. I’ll find some time to watch them too." Popovich gestured for Buford to sit down, then continued, "With this show, Chen is essentially scouting talent for the league. I still trust his judgment."

"Besides, these kids are basically receiving professional-level training ahead of time. Chen has hired a bunch of trainers who use all sorts of scientific equipment to analyze their technical issues and help them improve. That’s a huge help for them."

Around the age of 15 is a critical period for skill development. To be able to receive professional-level training, with top-tier trainers creating plans for them and correcting their technical flaws... if it weren’t for this show, they couldn’t even dream of getting this kind of treatment.

Buford nodded. Hearing Popovich put it that way, he started to get interested in the show too.

"Then I’ll make some time to watch it tonight."

"You should. Setting everything else aside, the show itself is actually pretty interesting."

From the choice in the last episode to this episode’s redemption arc, the dramatic ups and downs of the plot had Popovich sweating for Durant.

’Good thing the kid didn’t lose his head and chose Little Jordan in the end. If he’d really chosen his good buddy Beasley in front of tens of millions of viewers, his reputation would be ruined.’

Even if he didn’t have any reputation to begin with.

As the show’s promos aired, the headquarters of ABC Television also received some statistics.

For instance, over eleven million people had set a reminder for the show.

This was a terrifying number, and it was more than enough to prove how much attention the show was getting.

You could say it had already surpassed the third season of Fox’s *American Idol* to become another phenomenal reality TV show.

"Tell the hotline department to get ready. I have a strong feeling our phone lines are going to be blown up tonight," Sterling, one of the heads of the production department, arranged in advance.

Durant’s universally condemned choice, Beasley’s incomprehensible rejection, the twist after twist—he could already predict how much buzz the show would generate.

At ten o’clock that night, the show officially began.

This time, however, the show didn’t keep the audience in suspense. It started right with Durant’s decision.

Durant’s expression was conflicted, torn.

And this inner turmoil seemed to have lasted for half a month.

"I choose to bring back... Michael Beasley."

Durant gritted his back teeth and made his final choice.

"What the fuck!"

At Buford’s home, having just reviewed the last episode and understanding how crucial Durant’s choice was, Buford let out a curse the moment he heard the result.

At the same moment, in the Popovich household.

He had just sat down on the sofa, turned on the TV, and leisurely poured himself a drink, ready to watch Durant and Little Jordan embrace in tears for a happy ending. But when he heard the name from the television, he was instantly dumbfounded, then broke into a violent coughing fit.

His wife, Erin, was too stunned to even take care of him. Her eyes were also wide as she stared at the TV in disbelief, asking the question on everyone’s mind: "Why?"

Popovich wanted to ask the same thing.

He couldn’t figure it out. Why would Durant choose Beasley?

’Based on the media reports that followed, didn’t Little Jordan rejoin the team and play again?’

’Could it be that the production team deliberately filmed a reshoot to create suspense?’

’Or was Durant so nervous that he had a slip of the tongue and said the wrong name?’

’He was actually going to pick Little Jordan, right?’

On TV, Little Jordan, who was in the waiting room, was petrified, his shocked expression heartbreaking to watch.

Ernest asked again, confirming Durant’s choice.

Durant gritted his teeth and, like a warrior facing the entire world alone, nodded to confirm his choice.

It was Beasley!

"Fuck, what the hell is going on?"

Popovich was truly baffled.

No matter that he was known in the basketball world as a master strategist, an old fox who had seen countless people and could read them with precision—right now, he couldn’t get a read on what on earth was going through Durant’s mind.

’Did this kid forget he’s on a TV show? Tens of millions of people are watching him!’

"Phone!"

Popovich hurriedly asked for his phone.

’If I can’t figure out the reason, then it’s simple. I’ll just call Chen Yu, the show’s producer, and ask him why.’

He desperately wanted to know what kind of Kool-Aid the production team had fed Durant to make him come to such a decision.

’He’s practically digging his own grave!’

"He shouldn’t be asleep yet... oh right, I think he went to Europe." Popovich remembered media reports that Chen Yu had gone to Athens.

He immediately dialed Chen Yu’s number.

The call went straight to voicemail.

"That’s not right."

There’s at least a 10-hour time difference between San Antonio and Athens. It should be the next morning over there. Chen Yu should have been up long ago.

Chen Yu wasn’t stupid. He knew that as soon as the show aired, countless people would be calling him to ask for an explanation. He had timed it perfectly, turning off his phone to avoid the bombardment of calls.

Meanwhile on television, the show had established a video call with Beasley, who was far away in Washington.

Popovich watched in silence.

Durant, his face full of unconcealed excitement, told Beasley through the screen that they would be playing together again soon.

"That foolish kid!"

Popovich sighed. If Durant made it to the NBA in the future, this incident might become a permanent stain on his record.

At the same time, Popovich couldn’t help but feel that the production team was too ruthless.

’He’s just a 16-year-old kid. For Chen Yu to pull something like this, isn’t he worried it’ll break Durant?’

As he was randomly thinking, Beasley on the screen was also expressing his profound feelings of lifelong brotherhood to Durant.

Then, the tone suddenly shifted.

Beasley flipped off the camera and started going on a wild tirade.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The TV audio was just a continuous string of bleeps.

One could only imagine how foul Beasley’s rant was.

"Shit!"

Popovich’s eyes went wide again. He was completely stunned.

This twist was so shocking it made the hairs on his body stand on end.

He watched the TV as Beasley ripped into the production team, saying they were scum and had no right to eliminate him, spewing profanities nonstop.

Then he looked at the expressions back in the studio—Ernest and Durant, their faces going from dumbfounded and shocked to gradually pale.

Only one thought ran through Popovich’s mind: ’This kid has lost his mind!’

He was talking about Beasley.

This tirade of his was ten times more explosive than Durant not picking Little Jordan.

’What a pair of "good buddies"!’

Durant had betrayed his teammate, and now Beasley had betrayed his good buddy in turn!

"Greg, how could this happen?" Beside him, Erin gripped Popovich’s arm, her voice trembling slightly.

At first, she thought Durant was in the wrong. How could he betray his teammate?

But seeing Beasley curse out the production team like this and refuse to be brought back, she suddenly started to feel sorry for Durant.

Especially seeing the close-up of Durant’s blank, ashen face, she felt a terrible knot in her stomach.

She couldn’t even imagine what Durant must be thinking at that moment.

Popovich said nothing, his brow deeply furrowed. For the first time, he felt a strong sense of disgust toward a kid.

Beasley was just too shameless.

In the last episode, when the production team found him and told him he had a chance to be brought back, he had been so excited, talking nonstop about his brotherly friendship with Durant.

But what was the result?

’Durant treated you like a brother, but did you treat him like one?’

The guy was simply nauseating.

Popovich couldn’t help but think that if this kid ever had a chance to enter the NBA, even if he were the top prospect for the number one pick, and even if the Spurs had that pick, he would never, ever draft him.

’What a fucking asshole!’