Dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt, Hardaway strolled with O’Neal along the edge of the clinic’s Central Lake, looking almost like a couple out for a walk.

In fact, their time together on the Magic had been as wonderful as a first love.

Both were young and full of swagger, both were incredibly talented. An inside-outside duo, a match made in heaven. In just their second year together, they made it to the Finals.

O’Neal didn’t speak. He was a talkative person who could chat with anyone, but in front of Hardaway, he felt a bit awkward.

Back then, he had chosen to leave because of his contract renewal with the Magic. He’d held a grudge against Hardaway over it ever since. After that, they never spoke again. They didn’t even say a single word to each other when they were on the Olympic team that same year.

But times had changed, and thinking back on those conflicts from their youth, they now seemed laughable.

Besides, when it came down to it, there was no major conflict between him and Hardaway. He had left the Magic purely for the money.

"Shaq," Hardaway said, breaking the silence. "I’m saying, if it’s possible, I hope you’ll seriously consider a trade to the Phoenix Suns. Hakeem is getting older. After we won the championship this year, he told me that his age is catching up to him and he can’t shoulder a bigger responsibility for the team. If the team can get you, he’s willing to give up his starting spot and be your backup."

O’Neal raised an eyebrow slightly. He wasn’t sure if Olajuwon had really said such a thing, but he was willing to believe it.

’I’ll take it as a sign of respect from a veteran.’

Hardaway continued, "To be honest, that’s what I was thinking. I read in the media that you and Kobe are fighting over who’s the team’s number one guy. The whole thing seems ridiculous to me."

Hardaway stopped, turned to look at the calm surface of the lake, then bent down, picked up a pebble, and threw it into the water.

Watching the ripples spread across the lake, Hardaway smiled. "I’m 31 now. I’m not some 22-year-old rookie fresh in the league. Back then, all I thought about was being a star, and I had to fight for everything. Oh, right, I just remembered... that time with the commercial. I was so mad I didn’t speak to you for over ten days. It seems so ridiculous now."

Back in ’95, Nike, which Hardaway endorsed, shot a commercial featuring a puppet named Lil Penny. The puppet spouted a lot of the bold, brash things that the more reserved Hardaway would never say himself.

Afterward, as a rival to Nike, Reebok, which O’Neal endorsed, also shot a commercial. But at the end of the ad, a clip was added of O’Neal casually knocking over the Lil Penny puppet.

At the time, it was seen as a provocation from Reebok towards Nike.

But Hardaway felt that O’Neal had disrespected him, and so he sulked for a while.

A smile also appeared on O’Neal’s face. "I remember that too. I think I still have that puppet. They made you so skinny, it was hilarious."

After speaking, he couldn’t help but sigh.

It all felt like something that happened many years ago.

At the time, O’Neal had explained to Hardaway that there was no deep meaning to it, that it was just for fun. Back then, Hardaway had been furious, feeling that O’Neal didn’t care about his feelings.

But now, hearing O’Neal say it was just for fun, Hardaway’s heart didn’t stir in the slightest. He just smiled and said, "So Shaq, we never had any real conflict. And I’ve never thought of myself as the team’s number one guy."

When he got injured, was cast aside by the Magic, and came to the Suns, Hardaway’s role was to be the number two option, supporting J Kidd.

The constant injuries that followed had long since ground down Hardaway’s competitive fire. Even though he had the mentality of a leader during last season’s playoffs, it was only because the team needed him to step up and act like one.

Deep down, Hardaway didn’t care about these things.

’I’m already 31. How many more years can I even play?’

"So if you really come to the Suns and want to be the number one guy, that’s no problem at all. I’ll gladly feed you the ball and let you be the core of our offense," Hardaway said, looking at O’Neal with a completely serious expression.

O’Neal was moved, feeling a kind of respect he had never experienced before.

In the Lakers’ locker room, once that kid got too big for his britches, there was never any respect in his eyes when he looked at him.

"I’ll think about it seriously," O’Neal nodded emphatically.

Hardaway first said thank you, then patted O’Neal’s arm and said with a smile, "Relax. Don’t feel burdened by what I said. No matter what you decide, I think the most important thing is that we’re still friends."

O’Neal grinned. "That’s right. Friends."

"Come on, I saw Michael earlier. Were you guys playing golf? Let’s join him. You have no idea, he’s actually terrible at it," Hardaway said with a sly grin.

O’Neal laughed heartily. "Yeah, I think so too. He’s way worse than my neighbor."

Hardaway thought to himself, ’No kidding. His neighbor is Tiger Woods.’

The two walked towards the recreation center. O’Neal fell a step behind, took out his phone, and quickly sent a text message to Rogers.

Just a few words: "Have them trade me."

After sending it, he felt a sudden sense of relief. This year with the Lakers had been sheer torture. He was always worried about being compared to that kid. On any given night, if his shot was off and he scored fewer points than Kobe, he’d deliberately avoid the press just so they wouldn’t start spouting their usual bullshit.

O’Neal felt he had had enough of those kinds of days.

"By the way, Anfernee, did Brian ask you to come find me and say all this?" O’Neal asked as he caught up to Hardaway.

Hardaway admitted freely, "That’s right. Brian called and asked me to come. But he just told me to show up. As for what to say... Chen told me what to say. He sent me a text explaining how I should talk to you if Brian asked me to meet you."

"Look." Hardaway even took out his phone to show O’Neal the text from Chen Yu.

O’Neal glanced over and saw that the message barely mentioned him. Instead, it was telling Hardaway that he himself was getting older, like Ewing, and that sometimes you have to let go of old convictions to accept things calmly. It would be better for him, and for everyone else.

"Does he have psychic powers?" O’Neal exclaimed. At the end of the message, Chen Yu had actually written, "If Shaq asks, you can show him this text."

Hardaway shrugged. "I don’t know if he can predict the future, but his understanding of psychology is pretty amazing."

O’Neal pointed to the message again and asked, "Then what does this sentence mean? Is there something it’s supposed to tell me?"

There was another sentence at the end of the message, saying that "that matter" could be told to Shaq now.

Hardaway sighed. Of course he knew what it was. It was about how they had deliberately provoked the conflict between Kobe and O’Neal during the Western Conference Finals to ultimately win the series.

After receiving the text, Hardaway had even called Chen Yu.

Loud, intense music was blasting through the phone. Chen Yu had simply said that O’Neal would find out eventually, and sooner was better than later. If they didn’t tell him now, he’d get traded, and then a fight would break out over this later. In that case, it would be better not to trade for him at all. It was best to just get it all out in the open.

"You guys really did that?" O’Neal was completely stunned after hearing Hardaway’s explanation.

’It’s just basketball, but you guys are using psychological warfare? Isn’t that a little over-the-top?’

Hardaway looked at O’Neal, not feeling particularly worried. "Shaq, if you think what we did was underhanded, then I should apologize. But we couldn’t help it. It was a game, and we just wanted to win."

After talking with Chen Yu on the phone, Hardaway had come to terms with it.

He had always kept an open mind about whether they could trade for O’Neal. If the trade happened, great. If it didn’t, that was fine too.

Without O’Neal, the Suns had still won the championship.

’That big guy from China is pretty good, too.’

O’Neal shook his head bitterly, then laughed self-deprecatingly. "You don’t have to apologize. I just find it hilarious. The person who could completely shut me down turned out to be Kobe."

’The whole league was trying to figure out how to stop me, and who knew the ultimate answer was this?’

’How tragic is that?’

Hardaway patted O’Neal on the back and said nothing.

Meanwhile, far away in New York, Kupchek and his group, who were anxiously awaiting the result, also received a text message.

Rogers was too embarrassed to even call.

Kupchek stared at the text, and for a moment, he felt like he had let Jerry West down. ’In the end, I’m just not as good as the old man,’ he thought.

Looking up, he saw everyone was staring at him. Kupchek sighed and showed them the phone. "Shaq wants out."

Everyone present fell silent.

"Then let’s make the trade," Jackson let out a long, low sigh, too tired to say any more.

’At least we still have Kobe.’

「That evening.」

Tonight, Madison Square Garden Arena was the center of attention, with reporters gathered in droves.

Ordinarily, with no particularly dazzling rookies, it should have been a weak draft year. But because it involved the number one pick and O’Neal, the level of attention shot up.

All the sports media in the United States were preoccupied and curious about whether the Suns and the Lakers would complete this trade.

Over in Las Vegas, they had even started taking bets on it.

By early evening, a group of young rookies, dressed in suits and ties, had already arrived at the draft venue.

The media scurried among them, interviewing the rookies and the various teams, trying to dig up some big news from their snippets of conversation.

Outside the arena, the people of New York were still showing their support, gathering early and excitedly discussing which rookie the Knicks would choose.

At that moment, Stern and his group, who had already rushed over from NBA Headquarters, were in a lounge having a heated discussion.

"This will affect the balance of the league."

"You’re exaggerating. It’s just a normal trade. The Suns didn’t get O’Neal for nothing; they’re giving up the number one pick. How is that going to upset the league’s balance? If you want to talk about imbalance, you should be talking about the Suns winning the championship *and* getting the number one pick. Or the Lakers winning back-to-back championships the last two years. *That’s* what I’d call a real problem."

"The Suns winning the championship is not a problem. This year’s playoff ratings, especially for the Western Conference Finals, were not low."

"Actually, having Yao go to the Lakers is also a good option. Los Angeles is a big market, has a large Chinese population, high media attention, and it would help us open up the Chinese market."

"I really didn’t expect this trade to actually go through."

Several vice presidents and other league executives argued heatedly.

Just a short while ago, they had received notification from the Suns and the Lakers, putting an end to this highly anticipated trade.

"Alright."

At this, Stern, who was seated in the middle, gave a light cough, quieting the discussion. He stood up, adjusted his tie, and said, "It’s about time. I need to go out to the floor."

With that, he walked quickly out of the lounge.