O'Neal slipped on an oversized dark gray hoodie, zipped it up to his chest, and wore large, unlaceled slippers as he followed Kupchak down the corridor.
In the general manager's office, O'Neal's longtime agent Perry Rogers, was already seated in a single leather chair. Rogers was wearing a dark blue suit, with a briefcase on his lap, and several bound documents and a glass of barely touched ice water on the coffee table.
The office blinds were half-open, and the afternoon sun of September slanted across the desk. The hands-free landline on the desk was lit up with a red indicator light, connected to Jerry Buss's dedicated line.
O'Neal walked to the other side of the two-seater sofa and sat down, leaning back in his chair. He rubbed his aching right knee and turned to look at his agent.
" Perry, just get to the point. Everyone's time is precious."
Perry Rogers nodded, took two documents from his briefcase, pushed one to the center of the coffee table, and handed the other to Kupchak behind the desk.
" Mitch, our requirements have been very clear over the past two months. We hope to finalize the early contract extension before training camp officially begins."
Rogers opened the document and pointed to the labor agreement.
"We are requesting a two-year, fully guaranteed renewal worth approximately $68 million, extending the contract to the summer of 2008."
Rogers paused, his gaze shifting between Kupchak and the telephone.
"Look at the current state of the league. This summer, the San Antonio Spurs didn't hesitate to offer Tim Duncan a seven-year, $122 million max contract to keep him, and they also brought in Jason Kidd. The Boston Celtics ' Lin Qi also offered Kevin Garnett a contract extension exceeding $100 million. Michael Jordan retired, Jason went to the Spurs, and the Los Angeles Lakers now only have Shaq as their absolute core. Given Shaq's ability, this two-year, $68 million max contract is perfectly reasonable."
Kupchak sat behind his desk, his fingers interlaced on the surface, his expression largely unchanged.
Instead of reaching for the documents Rogers had pushed towards him, he turned his gaze to the hands-free phone on the table.
There was a slight static noise on the other end of the phone, followed by Jerry Buss's calm voice.
" Perry, Shaq, I've looked at all the documents."
O'Neal sat on the sofa, his hands on the armrests, without saying a word.
"I'm very grateful to Shaq for everything he's done for the Lakers." Jerry Buss's voice sounded somewhat aged in the quiet office, "But if we were to offer him a max contract extension at this point, averaging $34 million per year, the team would have absolutely no room for improvement in the coming years."
Jerry Buss paused for a few seconds, then continued.
" Vitti just sent over the physical test results. 368.5 pounds, and severe bone spurs and inflammation in your big toe. Shaq, you're thirty-one years old this year, and you've had toe surgery for the past two summers. This summer you didn't even have any systematic rehabilitation. Without Jordan to share the burden, no one can guarantee you'll be healthy enough to finish the long regular season at this weight."
O'Neal frowned and interjected, " Jerry, so what's your plan?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Jerry Buss gave management his bottom line.
"Two years, $21 million. That's about $10.5 million a year. If Shaq is willing to accept this pay cut, we can finalize the contract before the start of camp. If not, we'll put early contract extension negotiations on hold for now. Once the new season starts and Shaq has reduced his weight back to 330 pounds and proven he can still play consistently, we'll reassess him next summer."
Upon hearing the figure of "21 million over 2 years," Rogers' expression immediately changed.
This is even less than the market value of an average starting player; it's a complete humiliation for a superstar center in his prime.
O'Neal leaned back on the sofa, paused for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.
He didn't slam his fist on the table or yell; the temperature in his large eyes instantly plummeted to freezing.
"21 million over 2 years?"
O'Neal changed his posture, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward toward the hands-free phone on his desk.
" Jerry, are you kidding me, or do you think I don't understand the labor agreement?"
Kupchak adjusted his glasses, trying to ease the tension. " Shaq, this is based on considerations of the team's future salary flexibility..."
" Mitch, shut your mouth."
"You think the Lakers are a mess and you can just throw out an humiliating offer to fob me off? Two years, $21 million? Why don't you just go out on the street and find a blue-collar worker from the G League to play center?"
O'Neal stood up, pointed to the draft contract on the table, and said in a firm and indifferent tone.
"Since you don't want to offer the maximum contract as per the rules, then there's no point in discussing a contract extension. Mitch, you can pick up the phone right now and contact the entire league to discuss a trade."
Kupchak sat in his chair and said in a deep voice, " Shaq, the team has no plans to trade you..."
"Come on, stop pretending."
O'Neal coldly interrupted him, revealing his trump card directly.
"You want to drag this out until next year? Then let me remind you of one thing: this contract of mine includes a player option."
O'Neal extended his thick index finger and tapped it on the edge of the coffee table.
"If I want, I can opt out of the final year of my contract anytime next summer and become a free agent!"
Upon hearing the words "player option," the person on the other end of the phone visibly paused in breathing.
This is O'Neal's biggest source of confidence. Although there are nominally two years left on his current contract, the contract structure allows him to become a free agent next summer.
"You want to trade me for rebuilding assets? Go ahead and try."
O'Neal smirked. "But I'll say this: if you dare send me to a team I don't like, like Cleveland, Milwaukee, or Denver, I'll personally call their owners before their press conference."
"I'll tell them clearly: as soon as the summer of 2004 arrives, I'll opt out of my contract and leave. I want to see which general manager in the entire league dares to take the risk of giving the Lakers a bunch of young players and future first-round draft picks!"
Perry Rodgers calmly added, "Rules-wise, Shaq has every right to become a free agent next summer. If his next team doesn't offer Shaq a long-term commitment, the value of the assets he can get in the market will be significantly reduced."
Silence fell over the office.
Jerry Buss remained silent for a long time on the other end of the phone. As an owner who had been in the league for decades, Jerry Buss certainly understood the devastating impact of the player option. Once the star player publicly announced that he would refuse to renew his contract with a new team, any potential suitors would be extremely cautious when making offers, and the Lakers would have no chance of getting a return of equal value.
" Shaq, you're putting pressure on management." Kupchak's voice turned somber.
"This isn't something I'm forcing you; you brought this on yourselves."
O'Neal straightened his sweatshirt cuffs and sneered, "And don't think I don't know what you guys have been up to behind the scenes lately. After Phil submitted his resignation, you were secretly contacting Rudy Tomjanovich, trying to get him to take over as head coach, right?"
Kupchak's expression stiffened slightly.
"I called Rudy myself the night before last."
Shaquille O'Neal spoke candidly, "I told Rudy straight up, don't come and take over this mess in Los Angeles. Shaq can't stay here anymore, and I'm leaving after this year. Guess if Rudy still wanted to come to the Lakers as a stopgap coach after hearing that?"
Jerry Buss sighed on the other end of the phone, his tone hardening.
" Shaq, you've crossed the line."
"You crossed the line first, Jerry."
O'Neal dragged his swollen, inflamed right foot to the door, gripped the metal handle, and turned to look at the two people in the office.
"Either put the two-year, $68 million max contract on Perry's desk as soon as possible, or you can keep that humiliating offer and let Odom and Marion split it. I'll be playing next season, but don't expect me to fight my way through injury. Once July comes, we'll go our separate ways."
"Bang."
The heavy wooden door to the office was closed.
The heavy sound of O'Neal's slippers clicking on the floor echoed down the corridor before fading away in the direction of the training facility.
The only sound in the office was the air conditioning running.
Kupchak rubbed his temples and picked up the phone again. " Jerry, you heard everything."
"I heard you."
Jerry Buss spoke slowly, his voice carrying the calm and weariness of a businessman. "Out-of-control weight, refusal to have surgery, threatening to opt out of the contract, and sabotaging coach recruitment behind the scenes... Since he's put it this way, let's forget about an early contract extension."
"What about a trade?" Kupchak asked. "Should we wait a month or two into the regular season and see how he performs before making a decision?"
"No, we can't wait that long."
Jerry Buss's tone became decisive and cold over the speakerphone. "If we let someone who's out of control, has publicly broken with management, and is carrying resentment onto the field, his trading value will plummet..."
Jerry Buss paused for a second on the other end of the phone before making his final decision:
Trade him away before the regular season starts.
"Understood," Kupchak replied.
"Get it done right away."
The call ended, leaving only a crisp, short busy tone from the speakerphone.
Kupchak sat in the leather chair and let out a long sigh.
His gaze fell on the corner of the marble coffee table, where the morning's Los Angeles Times lay pressed down. The interview with Boston Celtics owner Lin Qi on the paper was still vivid in his mind.
"Any general manager who claims they don't need Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal is lying to their fans... If Boston has the salary cap space and signing opportunities, I'll offer him a max contract tomorrow."
Kupchak looked at the line of text and shook his head.
Lin Qi, far away on the East Coast, didn't even set foot in Los Angeles. With just a few words and some indirect praise from the media, he completely ignited the already tense relationship between O'Neal and the Buss Family, pushing the team that had just won the championship trophy to the brink of collapse before training camp even started.