Before the season began, the front office had held multiple discussions about Sabonis's contract extension.
The Lithuanian was an indispensable tactical hub in the team's frontcourt, and his "Twin Towers" pairing with Li Fei was immensely powerful.
But his age—and the resulting decline in stamina and mobility—was also an unavoidable ticking time bomb.
"His contract this season is worth $7.5 million."
Dolan took a sip of wine, his tone icy. "At that price, he's too expensive for a player who has become an ATM for opponents on defense. We pay him that salary because we expect him to be the most reliable barrier beside Li Fei, not a hole that Li Fei has to cover for."
Layden understood what the owner meant. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "Arvydas's offensive contributions are still plain for everyone to see. His high-post facilitation is an important part of the team's system. But... we have to plan for the future. If opponents target him throughout the playoffs the way they did today, our road to a championship will be very difficult."
"So, what do you suggest?" Dolan set his glass down heavily on the table.
"After the season, we must reassess his value."
Layden lowered his voice. "If he's willing to accept a significant pay cut—say, around $3 million to $4 million—as the team's third or even fourth offensive option, then he can still remain part of our blueprint. Otherwise... we'll have to look on the free-agent market or through trades for a younger, more energetic big man to partner with Li Fei."
A shrewd, cold gleam flashed through Dolan's eyes. "We may not even need to wait until the season ends. Scott, I need you to closely monitor his performance from here on out. If his defensive flaws keep widening and he