Of course, he didn’t expect Gan to pull off some kind of reincarnation and come out of retirement again, damn it.

Even so, he didn’t change his mind, deciding to end his 19-year basketball career in Salt Lake City.

Everyone has their own choices and persistence. For him, winning a championship in another city wouldn’t make him happy; it wouldn’t feel like a real championship to him.

During the night’s game, the Glory Team performed excellently, as Gan Guoyang and Van Exel broke through the Jazz’s defense with a barrage of three-pointers.

Glory secured a significant victory with a 104-91 win, a 13-point advantage over their opponents, capturing a key victory in the battle for the top eight.

At the end of the game, Stockton wasn’t upset about the loss; he simply asked Gan Guoyang, "Sonny, how do you still manage to participate in the game with such enthusiasm? It’s unbelievable."

Gan Guoyang said, "I plan to outlast all of you into retirement! That way, I’ll be the best in the world, right?"

"What are you talking about? We thought we’d outlast you, but it turns out none of us can outlast you."

Stockton admitted that in the art of outlasting others, Ah Gan was truly top-notch.

[To prove Larry’s confidence in my abilities, I generously accepted the two-year lucrative salary he offered.

When I closed the door and left his office, I intended to continue immersing myself in the game I love, satisfying both the team and myself.

They’d have to tear the jersey off my back and drag me out of the arena to stop me from playing.

However, I underestimated the emotional burden a player feels when ending a career. I didn’t want to disappoint my teammates, coaches, or fans in any way, and that weighed heavily on me.

Loyal relationships drove me forward, but they also placed a heavy burden on me, which grew heavier over time.

I struggled, not knowing if I could still muster up the courage to fight with all my might on the court every night, and the feeling of frustration consistently enveloped me.

I expected more cracks to appear in my armor, but when it actually came time to take it off, it was another matter entirely.

I had watched two outstanding teammates, Darrell Griffith and Mark-Eaton, retire during my first decade with the Jazz team.

At the time, I thought these guys were too good to retire.

Seeing someone hang up their boots when they could still contribute significantly to the team was confusing to young me, only partially understandable.

I vaguely knew what kind of physical pain they endured just to play every day, but I couldn’t completely empathize.

Naively, I thought, why would anyone retire from this sport?

You get to play basketball and earn money, and a lot of it – what a great job!

Frank Layden used to say, "This damn thing is better than any job!"

Later, I watched as two more teammates decided to end their careers.

One was Antoine Carr, who found me on a team flight and talked to me about the idea.

He was feeling down, frustrated with many things. I later realized that frustration was common for players past a certain age.

Because in society, at 35 and above, your career is just beginning, and you’re in your prime.

But here, in the NBA, you retire by 35-40! That’s actually when one is most mentally mature, yet you have to leave.

Of course, I didn’t quite understand then, and I regret not comforting him, telling him how important he was to us.

Another to leave was Jeff Hornacek, whose departure in 1998 didn’t surprise me as much.

Because I knew he was content, we talked to each other a lot about retirement.

At that time, I understood Darrell, Mark, and Antoine’s mindsets better than before.

I begged Hornacek to reconsider, but his mind was set, and the guy even flashed his ring at me.

I guess he might be tired of running around with an injured leg and fighting hard against two much stronger defenders.

And then of course, there’s the ring.

Jeff’s departure touched me deeply. Many changes happened to the Jazz; we got younger, but not as cohesive, with more new faces.

Across the league, more unfamiliar faces appeared, along with their attire and playstyles, making me look more like an antique.

As I was about to leave, I increasingly understood my old teammates, but found it harder to understand Ah Gan.

I once thought I could, watching him retire and return, I knew he couldn’t stay away from the court.

However, when he retired in 2000 and then returned, I couldn’t fathom how he continued to sustain himself.

In the past, no matter how many championships he won or how many times I lost, I still felt I could keep up with him. One day, I could catch up and beat him to win a championship; in 1997, I almost did it.

But this time, I really couldn’t catch up. He was too far, too far away.]

———2012 excerpt from John Stockton’s autobiography "Assisted".