A Hollywood Ending, page 8
*2 Or, if we’re using proper monikers: Kobe told Jeanie she needed to be like Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains. Might also be worth pointing out that Daenerys showed no objection to her brother being executed.
*3 Daenerys also ended up becoming a (spoiler alert!) paranoid, homicidal maniac, but that didn’t happen until the final season two years later, so we’ll give Kobe the benefit of the doubt.
*4 This happened to be the first time the Lakers didn’t have a player participating in the All-Star Game since 1996.
*5 A lawyer for Chaudhari told ESPN at the time that “Mr. Chaudhari and Jim Buss met in connection with a non-basketball business transaction. He never agreed to be included as a candidate for the Lakers board of directors. In addition, Mr. Chaudhari made it very clear that he is not, nor has he ever been, interested in participating in a family dispute.”
*6 Sacks, Jim Buss’s lawyer, declined to comment.
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Call the Lakers
Following Jeanie’s front-office shake-up, team higher-ups started using a new term around the facility: “Lakers 2.0.” The phrase was coined by Tim Harris, who had been promoted to president of business operations and chief operating officer. The idea behind the campaign was simple. “It was basically, ‘The losing is over,’ ” a then–Lakers staffer said. But the purpose of the reboot wasn’t just to change the culture inside the building. It was also to broadcast to the outside world, including players around the NBA, that the Lakers were back. And there was one player in particular whom Magic and Pelinka had in mind.
“Everything,” said a member of the Lakers front office, “became about chasing LeBron.” The pursuit of LeBron even became water cooler fodder for employees at lower levels of the organization. “You’d hear things like, ‘We cannot screw this up. If we do, the fan base is going to revolt,’ ” recalled one staffer.
The Lakers’ hope was to pair LeBron with a second star. Their top target was Paul George, a four-time All-Star forward for the Indiana Pacers who’d grown up in LA idolizing Kobe. Like LeBron, George was also slated to become a free agent in July 2018. In fact, his agent had already been in touch with Pelinka about a potential partnership.[*1] And so entering the 2017 offseason the Lakers had one goal: Create enough cap space to sign both players the following summer.
The draft would present them with their first opportunity to do so. For the third consecutive year, the Lakers landed the No. 2 pick, and the class was loaded with talent, especially at the top. There were highly touted point guards like Washington’s Markelle Fultz and Kentucky’s De’Aaron Fox, and Duke forward Jayson Tatum,[*2] who grew up idolizing Kobe and dreamed of playing for the Lakers. Magic, however, had his sights set on someone else.
“It was Lonzo, Lonzo, Lonzo,” said a member of the front office.
Lonzo was Lonzo Ball, a point guard out of UCLA who represented everything Magic was looking for in a franchise player. He was a great passer. He played fast. Because he was a Southern California native, he already had a strong following among Lakers fans.
He was also the most famous player in the draft. Much of that was thanks to his father, LaVar, a former low-level collegiate basketball player who talked like Ric Flair. LaVar was an expert at leveraging the media’s need to fill hours of programming into attention for him and his family. He’d make ludicrous statements, once saying Lonzo would “be better than Steph Curry” and another time claiming, “Back in my heyday, I would kill Michael Jordan one-on-one.” The resulting outrage would trigger cycles of media takes and debates, keeping the Ball family in the news.
“You may not like me. You may think I’m cocky or arrogant…but you will be thinking about me,” LaVar told ESPN The Magazine in May 2017.
The Lakers were the only team Lonzo Ball agreed to work out for. In late June, Magic and Pelinka visited the Ball family’s Chino Hills home, where they watched Lonzo sprint up hills with neighborhood kids, lift weights in a garage turned gym, and shoot on the backyard court LaVar had built. The Lakers’ scouts had Fox ranked higher, but seeing Ball in his element and getting to know his family only strengthened Magic’s conviction.
On draft night, the Lakers grabbed Ball. Magic was thrilled, though he was just as excited about the trade the team had pulled off before the draft even began. Believing Ball was now their point guard of the future, the Lakers used Russell to offload the bloated contract of Timofey Mozgov in a deal with the Brooklyn Nets. The move brought the franchise closer to its ultimate goal: creating two max salary slots for the following summer.
At a press conference the next night, Magic was asked why, with the Lakers whiffing on so many of their recent free-agent pursuits, he felt things would be different this time around.
“The tide has turned,” Magic replied. “People want to play here again. It’s exciting times for the LA Lakers. I wouldn’t have made that move if I didn’t think I could use that money.”
* * *
• • •
While the Lakers and their revamped front office were laying down the groundwork to reel in a star, the Cavaliers’ top decision-makers were looking for ways to hold on to theirs.
When LeBron had returned to Cleveland three years earlier, he made his mission clear: “My goal is still to win as many titles as possible, no question,” he wrote in his Sports Illustrated essay. “But what’s most important for me is bringing one trophy back to Northeast Ohio.”
Two years later, he delivered, ending Cleveland’s fifty-year title drought in historic fashion. The Cavaliers became the first team to ever rally from a 3–1 deficit in the finals, toppling a Warriors squad that had set a record with 73 regular-season wins. After the buzzer, LeBron collapsed onto the court and cried.
“This is what I came back for,” he said moments later during the trophy presentation.
Having accomplished what he’d set out to do, LeBron was now thinking about leaving Cleveland once again, this time for LA. He’d started planting Hollywood roots in 2015, when he purchased a $21 million, ten-thousand-square-foot home in Brentwood. That same year, his production company, SpringHill Entertainment, had signed a deal with Warner Bros. Entertainment and set up shop in LA, too. Rich Paul and Maverick Carter had also moved out west.
The Cavs knew all this. They also knew that if they wanted to keep LeBron in Cleveland, they needed to upgrade their aging roster. The Warriors had responded to their heartbreaking 2016 defeat by signing Kevin Durant, one of the best players in the history of the game, an addition that made them virtually unbeatable. In 2017, they put together the most dominant postseason run ever, winning 16 of 17 games, with their only loss coming against the Cavs in the finals.
After that Game 5 defeat, LeBron retired to his Bay Area hotel suite with some teammates. Aware that reinforcements were needed, the group began tossing around names of players who could help close the talent gap.
How about PG? guard Dahntay Jones asked, referring to Paul George.
George was the perfect fit—a big, athletic, and dynamic wing but also a lockdown defender who could at least make Durant work. He had recently informed the Pacers that he planned to leave in free agency the following year, meaning their choice was to either trade him that summer or risk losing him for nothing. Everyone knew George was focused on LA. But the Lakers had decided to wait for George to reach free agency rather than give up assets in a trade, leaving an opening for another team to swoop in.
LeBron told Jones he loved the idea. Jones, who had played with George in Indiana, sent George some texts. A few days later, George, curious why Jones had reached out, followed up. Jones laid out the entire situation.
“He was selling like a motherfucker,” George recalled.
George was unsure. He didn’t have a relationship with LeBron. He was worried they wouldn’t click.
You’re both cool, both chill, both family-oriented, Jones assured him. You just gotta get into the same room.
A few days later, George met LeBron at his Brentwood home for a backyard lunch. The two hit it off. I’m gonna try to make this happen, LeBron told him.
Cleveland had already been in contact with the Pacers about a potential George deal, but they had competition. The Thunder were also in the mix, offering two promising young players—Domantas Sabonis and Victor Oladipo—a package that Kevin Pritchard, the Pacers’ president of basketball operations, found more enticing. Pacers owner Herb Simon, however, was hesitant to take on the four years and $84 million remaining on Oladipo’s contract, and so he went looking for another deal. He called a close friend, Denver Nuggets owner Stan Kroenke, and negotiated a separate three-team trade involving the Cavaliers. Under the proposed deal, the Cavs would land George, the Nuggets would acquire Kevin Love, and the Pacers would receive shooting guard Gary Harris along with draft picks. On June 30, just hours before the opening of free agency, the three teams agreed to terms.
The Cavs had landed their guy. Thrilled, they began mapping out ways to round out the roster. Pritchard, however, wasn’t ready to give up on the Thunder’s offer. He warned Simon that if George went to Cleveland, there was a good chance LeBron would then consider re-signing with the Cavs the following summer, which, as a fellow Eastern Conference team, would present a problem for the Pacers. Simon changed his mind, and the Pacers sent George to Oklahoma City.
“If they had gotten Paul George,” one person close to LeBron would say years later, “there’s a chance LeBron never leaves.”
For the Cavs, it was back to the drawing board. But before they could gain traction on any new deals, they were hit with another blow. Kyrie Irving—their All-Star guard who had buried the championship-winning jumper in the 2016 finals—had grown tired of living in LeBron’s shadow. On July 7, he spoke with Gilbert and demanded a trade.
Gilbert flew to Las Vegas, where the NBA’s summer league was being held. He gathered his front office—which was now being led by Koby Altman, a thirty-four-year-old executive just five years removed from being assistant coach at Columbia University—in his suite and shared the news. Gilbert told the group that with Irving under contract for two more seasons, there was no need for them to acquiesce to his demand. After all, if they slow-played things, maybe Irving would change his mind.
LeBron, stunned by Irving’s request, agreed. Confident he could convince Irving to stay, he urged the Cavs to hold off on any deals—partly because he mistakenly believed Irving’s frustrations were with Gilbert and the organization, not with him.
Irving, however, was determined to leave. So much so that his agent, Jeff Wechsler, issued a threat: If Irving wasn’t traded, he’d undergo a minor surgical procedure on his left knee that would sideline him for a significant portion of the season. Backed into a corner, Gilbert reconsidered his stance. Maybe, he thought, Irving’s demand could be spun into an opportunity, one that could help prepare the Cavs for LeBron’s possible departure in a year and free them from Klutch’s influence.
Since LeBron’s return in 2014, Gilbert—who had responded to The Decision in 2010 with a scathing, hate-tinged open letter in which he described LeBron as “narcissistic”—had given LeBron and his group everything they wanted. Jobs to friends. Above-market contracts to Klutch clients. Expensive rosters. LeBron had the power in the relationship, and the Cavs had no choice. But now, having won a title, Gilbert no longer felt the need to capitulate. And unlike the lead-up to 2010, he wasn’t going to mortgage the team’s future in a desperate bid to keep his star. LeBron, the Cavs figured, was likely leaving anyway, whether they kept Irving or not. So why not see if there was a way to remain a contender for one more year while also preparing for a post-LeBron future?
The Celtics were one of the few teams capable of giving Gilbert everything he was looking for. In exchange for Irving, they were willing to part with Isaiah Thomas, a 5-foot-9 point guard who finished third in scoring and fifth in MVP voting the previous season; 3-and-D[*3] forward Jae Crowder; and also an unprotected 2018 first-round pick from the Nets, which they had received in a previous trade. Given Brooklyn’s status as one of the worst teams in the league, the pick was widely considered one of the most valuable assets across the NBA. With this package, the Cavs would be able to fill the void left by Irving and also secure an asset to help protect their future.
By the afternoon of August 22, the two teams had nearly finalized a deal. LeBron was in Santa Monica at the time signing jerseys for a trading-card company when Cavaliers head coach Tyronn Lue, who was spending some time in California, showed up to share the news. He then put LeBron on the phone with Altman.
Do not trade Kyrie, LeBron told Altman. He especially didn’t want his running mate sent to an Eastern Conference rival. After a brief discussion, Altman assured LeBron he’d hold off.
Minutes later, LeBron’s friends showed him a tweet from ESPN’s Adrian Wojnarowski: The Cavs, Wojnarowski was reporting, were sending Irving to the Celtics.
LeBron dropped his pen and slumped in his chair.
“At that point in time,” LeBron would tell The Athletic one year later, “you realize that Koby’s not the only one running the team.”
Dan Gilbert was, and he was not someone LeBron wanted to be tied to for the rest of his career.
* * *
• • •
Entering the 2017–18 season, Lakers management made the team’s mission clear.
“All I want us to do,” Magic told reporters before training camp, “is to have a good season where free agents look and say, ‘Oh, man. I can see myself in that lineup and with that team,’ and we can step up to another level.”
The Lakers, largely due to their success in the draft, were closer to that vision than many realized. Six of their recent picks—Jordan Clarkson, Brandon Ingram, Larry Nance Jr., Julius Randle, D’Angelo Russell, and Ivica Zubac—had already proven themselves to be NBA caliber. Meanwhile, most analysts considered their 2017 draft haul—Lonzo Ball, Kyle Kuzma, Josh Hart, and Thomas Bryant—one of the best of the night.
There was no single person responsible for this success. Kupchak had learned from Jerry West—widely considered one of the best talent evaluators in the history of the league—but had also become a respected scout in his own right. Bill Bertka, the NBA’s first full-time scout and a Lakers fixture for over forty years, had a hand in every selection. Jerry West’s son, Ryan, had been part of the scouting team since 2009 and became one of the group’s most valued voices. Nick Mazzella had climbed the ranks from public relations intern to scout and general manager of the Lakers’ D-League team. And in recent years Dr. Buss’s two youngest sons, Jesse and Joey, had become key voices, too.
Dr. Buss had always intended for the two to succeed Jeanie when she could no longer run the franchise. Joey had been preparing by heading the Lakers’ G League team, turning it into one of the NBA’s most successful minor league operations. “He really took that program and made it his own,” Coby Karl, who coached the team from 2016 to 2021, said. “He always did a really good job of building a culture there but also keeping it all connected with the Lakers.” Jesse took a different path. A basketball fanatic with a seemingly photographic memory, he grew up in San Diego with his mother but spent countless hours talking about basketball with his dad. He officially joined the Lakers in 2006 as a teenager, was promoted to director of scouting in 2012, and became assistant general manager in 2015. Now, with Kupchak gone and the front office being led by a president and GM with no previous front-office experience, Jesse’s role had expanded even further.
But there was a downside to all that draft success. The Lakers didn’t have enough minutes to go around. Nance, Randle, Kuzma, Ingram, and Hart all played similar positions. “We were all kind of pitted against each other to a certain extent,” Nance said. The internal competition took a toll. Practices often grew physical. “It’s hard not to develop resentment in that situation. All you can see is, ‘I’m fighting for my livelihood with this guy,’ ” Nance added. “None of us can really see that all of us were good guys just trying to survive. It was all cutthroat and not a really healthy environment.”
Walton did his best to guide the group, but this was uncharted territory for him. “I think it may have surprised Luke how much you have to coax young players along to show them what habits are important to being a pro,” one then–Lakers staffer said. Players frequently ignored their defensive assignments. Sometimes they’d simply forget them. Those on the bench often pouted. Frustrated, Walton would vent to his assistants.
“I can’t talk any sense into these guys,” he’d say, as the Lakers opened the season a disastrous 11–27.
Ball, in particular, proved to be more immature than expected. He showed flashes of the skills that had tantalized scouts, and he was well liked within the building, but his lack of professionalism irked his teammates. He blew so many defensive assignments that the coaching staff began to wonder if he was even reading his scouting reports.
One day, Lakers staffer Clay Moser decided to issue a test.
What can you tell me about Russell Westbrook? he asked Ball in the locker room before a game against the Thunder.
Ball began rambling but failed to mention the most critical detail—that Westbrook, despite being right-handed, preferred to drive left.
Moser pointed to the scouting report. If you read it, he told Ball, then you’d know that.
Ball said nothing.
