The phone rang three times before someone picked up.
King Arthur's slightly hoarse voice came through.
"Coach?"
"Arthur, come over to my place."
Phil Jackson's voice was grave.
"There are a few things about our Western Conference Finals strategy that I want to discuss with you."
After hanging up, he downed the rest of the red wine in his glass.
Forty minutes later, King Arthur's car pulled up outside the villa.
"Coach, did you just talk to Wang Yi?"
There was a hint of probing in King Arthur's voice. His eyes settled on the extra wineglass on the coffee table.
Phil Jackson didn't deny it. He pointed to the sofa opposite him.
"Sit."
King Arthur knew the Zen Master hadn't called him over to discuss tactics.
He must have already noticed something.
Back in the day, he had gotten Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O'Neal to put aside their differences and win three consecutive championships together. No one had ever matched his ability to read people.
"I'll be direct."
Phil Jackson set down his wineglass.
"You've cut your passes to Wang Yi by more than half."
King Arthur froze. When he looked up, a trace of resentment flashed in his eyes, but he made no attempt to hide it.
He abruptly straightened his back, his voice carrying a stubborn edge.
"Coach, I'm the team's core player. I have the right to decide where the ball goes."
"But you're also a member of this team."
Phil Jackson's voice suddenly turned colder, his words leaving no room for argument.
"Your job is to win games, not pad your stats."
"Are winning and padding my stats mutually exclusive?"
King Arthur shot back.
"How many games did we win in the first three? We were up by double digits in every one!"
"Even in Game