As ti went on, he won championship after championship, but his opponent wasn’t Jordan, and the thought in his mind grew fainter.
He was creating his own era. He had beco the true king of this era, and now it was Jordan who wanted to dethrone him.
Now that the promise was finally realized, Gan Guoyang’s anticipation had surprisingly cald down. No matter who Jordan was in the past, who he is now, or who he will be in the future, right now, he was rely his opponent in the Finals.
An opponent ant you had to crush them, again and again.
Ti moved to June, the 2nd; the first battle of the Finals would take place today.
Unlike the 1980s, Gan Guoyang still rembered how back then, before the Finals, so many people would camp near his house, piling up countless gifts at his doorstep.
Now, it was the 1990s, and with Portland’s worsening public safety, Gan Guoyang’s family had moved to a more suburban area. It was quiet and safe, but it lacked a sense of human warmth.
The Portland people still loved their basketball heroes, but it was harder for them to get close to superstars outside the stadium—this wasn’t just the case for Ah Gan, but also for Jordan, Magic, and the others.
When traveling, Gan Guoyang always needed to bring bodyguards. In the past, there had been only Quentin, but now he had added a driver, an assistant, and stricter police inspections of vehicles.
Gan Guoyang always kept a few signed basketballs in the car. If he encountered a police inspection, he’d always gift them a signed basketball—even though, without doing this, the police usually wouldn’t give him trouble.
After lunch, he set off. There wasn’t any traffic, and he smoothly arrived at morial Coliseum.
Beside the morial Coliseum was the new arena under construction, slated to be operational by next February.
In contrast to the new stadium, the Glass Palace looked sowhat small and old, especially with its outdated square design.
Still, Gan Guoyang loved it here. Its layout was simple, its structure was straightforward, and it was close to the audience. Though it only held a little over ten thousand fans, the atmosphere was always electric.
After changing clothes and heading onto the court for warm-ups, Gan Guoyang noticed an issue: Tang Jianguo was up to so antics.
Old Tang wouldn’t miss out on such a rare promotional opportunity. To make the scene livelier, he had invited an aerial basketball stunt team to perform. They had placed trampolines beneath the rim to execute 360-degree aerial dunks.
Right now, they were warming up on the court.
Beelman, upon seeing this scene, beca a bit flustered and exclaid, "F***, is tonight a circus show?"
When Tang Jianguo saw Gan Guoyang, he shouted, "Sonny! My superstar! It’s the Finals again! Co check out my aerial stunt team."
Gan Guoyang let out a long sigh and said, "Donald, can we make the Finals a little purer? Enough with these gimmicks."
Tang Jianguo shook his head and said, "Of course not! Doesn’t this look lively? They jump higher than Michael Jordan."
"Then you should send them to deal with Michael Jordan."
"Oh no no no, you’re the protagonist tonight. I know, I believe in you."
As he spoke, Tang Jianguo pulled over the photographer and started snapping pictures of the two of them relentlessly.
Tang Jianguo told Gan Guoyang that he couldn’t wait to start using the new arena. They couldn’t let the Finals’ excitent be wasted in such a small venue.
The tickets sold were simply too few, far from matching the Trail Blazers’ championship-level strength, nor satisfying their fans.
Over the past two years, with the success of the Trail Blazers, Tang Jianguo had gradually climbed out of bankruptcy’s pit. This Finals would propel him further into the lilight.
Gan Guoyang shook his head, thinking how the Trail Blazers’ managent team truly complented each other: a reserved, dia-averse Jerry West paired with a boisterous, spotlight-chasing Tang Jianguo.
One calmly handled basketball affairs—trades, contracts, drafts—while the other loudly rallied off the court, stirring publicity and shaping narratives. Together, they achieved a surprisingly harmonious balance.
He only hoped this balance could last. Then the Trail Blazers would continue to operate smoothly for a long ti.
anwhile, Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls also arrived at morial Coliseum around 3 PM.
Their arrival garnered just as much dia attention, no less than what the Trail Blazers had.
Compared to the seasoned Trail Blazers, the Bulls, as Finals rookies, clearly appeared nervous and inexperienced.
Scott Williams, during the Eastern Conference championship celebrations, had dislocated his shoulder from overly enthusiastic waving and would miss the first ga.
Of course, Williams was a fringe bench player, so his presence wouldn’t significantly affect the ga.
Jordan and Pippen, during their pre-ga interviews, were visibly less relaxed than Gan Guoyang, carrying a palpable air of tension.
This tension wasn’t due to fear but excitent.
Facing Ah Gan in the Finals had kept Jordan restless these past few days.
He couldn’t sleep—he just couldn’t. Every ti he closed his eyes, he saw Ah Gan.
He really wanted to call Ah Gan, but rembering they were now Finals opponents, he held back.
He hoped Ah Gan might call him, but right up until the Finals were about to begin, that number never ca up.
Jordan understood—they were enemies now, unable to interact like friends, at least for the ti being.
Jordan could accept this, but it still left him sowhat saddened—and slightly anxious.
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