Chapter 695 - 63: The Viper

On the evening of May 5th, at the Memorial Coliseum, the Portland Trail Blazers faced the Phoenix Suns in the first game of the semi-final playoff series.

Before the game started, the owner of the Trail Blazers, Tang Jianguo, formally announced that the funding for the new stadium had been fully raised. Construction was about to commence, with completion expected by January 1992, when it would officially open for use.

At that time, the new stadium would be activated to host the 1992 All-Star Game—In order to catch up with the All-Star, the construction period was reduced from two years to one and a half years.

For this project, Tang Jianguo, on the brink of bankruptcy, exerted all his energy, shuffling assets from left to right, pulling in a lot of investors, selling season tickets, issuing funds, acquiring loans, issuing bonds—more than 5 million US Dollars were raised by selling the parking lot rights, securing the final sum required.

Through a series of maneuvers, Tang Jianguo had not spent a single penny himself and simultaneously gained a portion of land ownership through the transfer.

At the same time, through managing player salaries and team assets, he saved himself a significant amount in taxes—It’s really no wonder that America is a paradise for wealthy capitalists.

As is well known, the US taxation is very stringent, and not paying taxes is a serious offense; even drug dealers have to pay taxes on their earnings.

While tax collection is strict, there are also many ways to avoid taxes, and it is often the wealthy who understand best how to do so; professional sports teams are a fine method for owners to avoid taxes.

As early as 1948, Bill Vick, the owner of the Cleveland Indians of MLB, raised an issue with the IRS regarding taxes.

He believed that the nature of an athlete’s work, just like farm livestock, office printers, or cars, could be considered a type of depreciable asset.

Paying the players’ wages was akin to using up feed for cattle and horses. In order to make up for these losses and depreciations, the team owner should regard player contracts as a loss that could offset future taxable income.

Surprisingly, the usually meticulous IRS agreed with Bill Vick’s perspective, allowing owners to use teams to avoid taxes.

At the time, the main strategy to avoid taxes was through selling teams and treating player contracts as a separate asset, not as labor contracts.

This part of the assets could be depreciated, and the depreciation expenses could offset five years’ worth of taxes. Subsequently, the new owners who bought the teams could also use the asset contracts in their hands for depreciation to deduct taxes.

Later, teams like the Boston Celtics of the NBA flip-flopped between multiple owners, in part because resale of the teams allowed for tax deductions, treating player contracts as depreciable assets rather than human resources.

The IRS quickly caught on to this loophole and tried to overturn it, but Bill Vick appealed to the court and won.

However, the IRS made some progress; in 1976, the allocation limit for asset depreciation of player contracts was set to 50%, preventing owners from recklessly deducting all taxes.

Even so, a 50% rate still gave owners enough room to maneuver. They could establish various forms of intangible assets, such as media rights, facilities naming rights, stadium leasing agreements, franchise agreements, etc., to enhance asset depreciation and achieve tax exemption.

A shrewd businessman like Tang Jianguo of course would make good use of these regulatory loopholes. His losses and taxes from other projects were mitigated and avoided through the Trail Blazers’ asset depreciation, allowing him to escape the fate of bankruptcy.

This season, the Trail Blazers achieved full attendance for all 82 games, ranking first in box office revenue in the league. Even with the rising ticket prices, Ah Gan’s box office allure kept the Trail Blazers’ tickets in high demand.

After announcing the new stadium plan, Tang Jianguo firmly grasped Ah Gan’s hand by his side and raised it high in the presence of the cheering fans.

He thought to himself, Ah Gan is what depreciable asset? That’s utter nonsense; he’s clearly appreciating in value every year and still being depreciated.

Gan Guoyang played along with Old Tang’s public performance, and as he was heading off the field, he warned Old Tang, "Do whatever you want off the court, but leave the court matters to me, Beelman, and West, OK?"

Tang Jianguo quickly reassured him, saying, "No one understands basketball better than you and Jerry. I am completely at ease handing over the team to you! I’m waiting for the fruitful results in June. I can hardly wait."

For the basketball team’s construction, since West’s arrival this season, Tang Jianguo truly has stopped meddling much, leaving all basketball matters to the professionals.

He himself, after failing in many other ventures, did not sink into oblivion but rather kept appearing frequently in the media, continuing to extend his influence.

Previously, his outspokenness on public affairs led to a warning from David Stern, but after completing some private deals, Trump learned his lesson. He no longer got involved in public affair discussions but talked about personal life, romance, and frivolities instead.

For example, during an interview with "Vanity Fair," Trump said, "When a man leaves a woman, especially for another woman, it’s great, because he has a 50% chance of being the one who is taken for a ride."

In an interview with the New York Times, he also said, "With women, you absolutely cannot treat them too nicely."

In an interview with "Gentleman," he went on to say, "Let me tell you, as long as you have a beauty in your arms, it doesn’t matter what others write about you."

Of course, he didn’t forget to praise the Portland Trail Blazers’ players, saying when asked about the secret to success and making money, "You ask Ah Gan how he plays so well, he can’t explain it to you in a word or two. It’s the same for me, I act on instinct!"

In fact, Gan Guoyang could explain, but as the boss was blowing his own trumpet, it wouldn’t be right for him to burst his bubble. After all, Old Tang was nearly bankrupt with his instinct-based business decisions.

Gan Guoyang didn’t play basketball based on instinct alone, although intuition was useful at crucial moments, in a flash of lightning. That’s when instinctive judgment was needed.

Most of the other times, rational planning was required; you needed to use your brain to play the game.

After sending off Boss Tang, Gan Guoyang and his teammates made the last rally before the game.

Last season, they had faced the Suns in the playoffs, where the Suns secured three victories, proving they were strong opponents.

This year, they are stronger both in terms of lineup and experience. The Trail Blazers must be spirited; there is no room for error in the playoffs.

"We will tear their defense apart with our offense and create endless trouble for them with our defense. Everyone knows we have the upper hand, but where exactly does our advantage lie? We have to show it. Better passing, more accurate shooting, tougher defense, and better rebounding. We have to destroy our opponents with the best form, both physically and psychologically. Otherwise, they might really think that being able to fight us to game seven last season means their strength is comparable to ours and we were just lucky."

In the 1989 semifinals, Gan Guoyang played while holding back grief, which greatly affected his condition. Coupled with the team’s overall insufficient strength, it dragged out to seven games.

Gan Guoyang always took this to heart; to think that it took seven games to beat the Suns was unbearable. This year, come what may, they aimed to resolve the series within five games.

Trail Blazers starting lineup: Sabonis, Gan Guoyang, Jerome Kossie, Hornacek, Terry Porter.

Suns starting lineup: Mark West, Kurt Rambis, Tom Chambers, Danny Ainge, Kevin Johnson.

Both teams took to the court, and the players exchanged greetings; the game was about to start.

The Suns’ starting forward, Kurt Rambis, took a deep breath. He had never thought that after so many years, he would once again face Ah Gan in the playoffs.

As time passed, the imprint of fear left by Ah Gan on him not only did not fade away but became clearer and more terrifying, like an indelible scar.

Through his black-framed glasses, he glanced at Ah Gan standing outside the center circle: expressionless, chewing gum in his mouth, his gaze cold as a serpent’s.

Rambis’ palms began to sweat; the game hadn’t even started yet, and his breathing became rapid.

He tried to calm himself, took deep breaths, and told his eyes not to look at Ah Gan.

But for some reason, as Rambis kept his head down, he still felt that Ah Gan’s eyes were fixed on him.

Like a serpent eyeing its prey.