Champion Creed-Chapter 507 - 187: God will let Atlanta get everything it wants (Requesting monthly passes!)_2

Chapter 507: 187: God will let Atlanta get everything it wants (Requesting monthly passes!)_2

Apart from Shaq who had already gone to California, everyone was invited to participate.

Everybody had a great time, but they all knew that tonight in Orlando, the elegy of an old era was being played.

It was bound to be a night filled with regrets and a sorrowful atmosphere.

After eating their fill and playing cards, everyone gathered on the rooftop of Roger’s villa.

The summer in Orlando was unbearably hot, and even the occasional breeze that blew was a warm one.

Everyone looked up at the starry sky, where not too many clouds obscured the glittering Milky Way that weaved a beautiful tapestry above them.

Holding a glass of wine, Roger took a deep breath, "Tomorrow I’m moving out, leaving Orlando. It’s all over, guys, this dream has ended."

At this moment, Roger’s feelings were just like the day of graduation from college in his previous life—if you got on well enough with your classmates and roommates, there was bound to be a sense of reluctance mixed with the joy at the farewell party.

"This is not a dream," Saru said, his hands behind his head, "Ten or twenty years later, when I pull out our group photo, fans won’t feel pity for me. We are legends, Roger."

"Right, we’ve already put the final full stop to the last Chapter, our careers are without regrets. So many players spend their lives without winning a championship, but we’ve won three. Dynasties are not forgotten, our legend is not ending, it’s eternal." Michael Cage leaned on the railing of the rooftop, staring at his two rings.

In a few months, the team would send the third ring to everyone who had left the team.

Three rings, a testament to those magnificent years.

"It’s not over, I’m going to continue following you. I’ve decided to opt out of my contract and go with you to Atlanta," Derrick McKey said, placing his hand on Roger’s shoulder.

"I really do need you, Derrick, but that’s going to cost you millions. Don’t be impulsive, it’s not just about you. Make the decision that’s best for your family," Roger patted McKey’s back.

McKey seemed pensive, and finally nodded, "I really appreciate it, Roger."

Wilkins smiled, "At least when my jersey retirement ceremony is held, I won’t have to worry about you not having the time to come."

"Don’t worry, Dom, even if I’m not in Atlanta I’ll come. I’m not that kind of person."

"Alright guys," Roger raised his glass, "let’s say our farewells here, this is professional basketball. At least, we’ve been successful. To our dynasty."

"To our dynasty."

Surrounding the villa were lush trees. They stood silently, witnessing this moment of reluctance.

In the end, Roger stood on the rooftop, watching his teammates leave in their cars until all their taillights were swallowed by the darkness.

Summer, breezes, farewells, the past you can’t return to... Tears couldn’t help but fall, mingling with the sweat of summer, indistinguishable whether it was the bitterness of parting or the intensity of the summer heat.

"Roger." Someone called from behind.

Wiping the corner of his eyes, Roger turned around and found that Spoelstra hadn’t left yet.

"Erik."

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but I didn’t want to affect your mood before. This summer, I’m leaving Orlando too, and I won’t be going with you to Atlanta either. Pat Riley has assured me there’s a spot for me on the coaching staff, not just doing video editing, but also participating in tactical decisions. You know I can’t pass up this opportunity."

"Congratulations, Erik."

"It’s hard to believe, the team seems to have been gutted overnight. Looking back over the past few years, it truly was like a dream. Hey, if you ever need help in the future, I’ll definitely step up... if you could use it. I’ll never forget who brought me into the NBA, never."

"There may be a day when I will, but until then, I wish you all the best. Pat Riley is an asshole, but also a good teacher, do well."

"I wish you all the best, too, so... goodbye, Roger."

"Goodbye, Erik."

The last person left.

Roger’s palace in Orlando was left empty.

The lone King lit a cigar by himself, enjoying the rare peace after the storm of battles.

After getting into the car, Spoelstra looked back at Roger, standing alone on the rooftop smoking a cigar.

Could he be successful in Atlanta?

Spoelstra smiled, feeling that he didn’t even need to worry about this question.

Wherever he went, Roger was like the fiercely burning sun in the hot summer.

So, he would be successful.

He would be the most successful basketball player in history.

-----------------

The next afternoon, Roger had arrived in his beloved Atlanta.

Georgia was adjacent to Florida, so the distance wasn’t too far. Hence, Roger set off in the morning and arrived by afternoon.

At the moment, he was in the northeast suburbs of Atlanta, looking for his new home.

In the Atlanta metropolitan area, the wealthy and middle-class generally lived in the northeast.

If you wanted to venture to the southern part of Atlanta, the birthplace of "Black Lives Matter," there would be no problem either—they were even more hospitable than those in the north, always willing to invite you over for some peanuts.

Although it’s called house hunting, it’s more like an inspection.

Because Hawks owner Ted Turner had already prepared a house for Roger, even asking if Roger needed a team of maids.

Roger declined, "Ted, in the NBA, women are more dangerous than hunting dogs. No one wants to wake up to a bunch of hunting dogs targeting you every day. An accidental misfire could cause big trouble."