Fellows, I can go into stealth mode:
It's a Thursday evening, early summer, somewhere in the midwest ...
Kevin Durant is having a juicy Omaha steak, cooked medium-well, with a side of hand cut marinated potato wedges. A stranger appears, he sits across the table from Mr Durant. He whispers to the waiter that he'll have a Dry Martini.
KD: "Ah, Mr Rockefeller, what brings you here, away from all that activity? I presume you're still working on merging a few trading houses."
TR: "Well Kevin, work is work, and it seldom ends. Companies rise, companies fall, and today, everything is global anyways. It's nice to take a break from the London-New York-Singapore shuffle, once in a while."
KD: "I'm guessing that you're not here to talk about b-ball, sir?"
TR: "Well Kevin, for the first time you're wrong, it's always been about the game for me. And yes, being from Boston, outside of M&As, b-ball's the only game for me. It's something you never outgrow."
KD: "Yeah, yeah, I know all it ... the Russell-Havlicek-Bird thing. It's been thorn in Mr West's side, since he first started GM-ing in the league."
TR: "True, and you know, it's still possible for folks down the road to be a part of it."
KD: "Danny can't make the room."
TR: "Of course not, that's usually the case. Yet, you know what, despite it all, my firm's liked your work and what you've got to show. Here's something to ponder on, as you get ready for your last season, this year."
Titlemaster then slides a cashier's check, encased in an air-carrier dossier, to Kevin Durant.
Durant slides the check open, it reads $1,000,000 USD, along with a pamphlet/details for a private jet company.
TR: "Just a token of our appreciation; so whenever you're on the eastern seaboard, just give the man on the form a call, he'll pick you up, fly you to wherever you want, and we can discuss some more. Enjoy the offseason."