Though the game had just finished, the halls Bogdan Bogdanovic ran through were empty. He knew there would be well-wishers and admirers in all the well-trodden paths of the Golden One Center. He had been delayed too often before, and now was no time for delays, well-wishing or not. As much as he desired otherwise, he could not afford an encounter with Katarina, the chatty and flirtatious concession stand worker who hailed from his own hometown in Serbia. Luckily, he knew all the secret ways, the utility corridors, the maintenance tunnels, and he encountered no one on his way to his goal.
Still running at full speed, his energy not diminished in the slightest by his recently completed career-high performance, he made it to the office of Kings GM Vlade Divac. There was no one in the reception area, an emptiness he hoped would extend to the office of the GM. Barely breaking stride, he wrenched open the door and entered.
Divac, unlike the last time this had happened, was unsurprised by Bogdan’s dramatic entrance. He noticed Bogdan’s surprised expression, and decided to let him speak first.
“How did you get here so fast? I ran down as soon as the game was over, and I know I saw you in the stands.” Bogdan said in Serbian.
Divac laughed. “You think you know the secret hallways better than I, the GM? I can appear anywhere in this arena in an instant, with nobody any the wiser! Anyway, now that you’re here, you can tell me what was so important that you had to abandon your postgame interview.”
Bogdan took a deep breath, composing himself. “Tell you? More like… show you!” And with that confident proclamation, he twisted his face into a sneer and ripped his jersey straight down the middle, revealing his rippling muscles, still glistening with sweat from the game. “Cancel the paperwork for the Serbian Superteam in Sacramento” he snarled. “I’ve got your Serbian”, he pointed at his biceps, “Superteam”, he pointed at his pectorals, “in Sacramento”, he pointed at his abdominals, “right here!”.
Divac smiled amusedly. “Such a display of bravado and machismo I have never seen from you before, Bogdan! I’m impressed! For your information, I just got off the phone with Denver, and they were surprisingly open to trade talks today, I don’t know what got into them. We were in the final stages of an agreement to send De’Aaron and Harrison plus a few picks to them for Nikola Jokic, but since you say to cancel it, I will cancel it. I always want my players to feel like their voice is being heard in my organization”. He moved to pick up the phone on his desk.
“Wait, Nikola is coming to Sacramento?” Bogdan asked excitedly, his sneer replaced with a look of glee.
Divac picked up the phone and began dialing. “Well, not anymore.” He put the phone to his ear. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a trade to cancel. This won’t earn me much respect in league circles, backing out like this, but I prefer the respect of my players. Security!”
Two extremely burly and rough-looking Serbians suddenly emerged behind Bogdan and seized him by the arms. He struggled, but found he could not move an inch as they turned him around and escorted him out of the office.
“Wait! Wait! Let me go! I didn’t mean it! When I implied that my muscles were the only Serbian Superteam in Sacramento that was needed, I was just trying to impress you! Wait! No! I want Nikola on the team, tell Denver that the trade is still on! Wait!” Bogdan’s voice trailed off in the distance as Divac put the phone down and laughed.
“He’s gonna love playing with Marko Guduric!”