Then Monday happened. Kevin Durant announced he would be taking his talents to the Bay Area, and any notions previously held about sports, science, religion, and politics had to be reexamined or just completely thrown out the window.
In reaction, fireworks on our country’s birthday were replaced by fiery hot takes from sea to shining sea. Basketball enthusiasts were salivating over what Chef Curry and his new companion will be able to cook up in an even more lethal Death Lineup. Durant’s business opportunities in Silicon Valley were being drooled over by the area’s prominent venture capitalists. Draymond Green relished the presence of a safety net should his uncontrollable extremities meet the groins of opposing players in the playoff runs of years to come.
Many expressed their grievances and skepticism about the move, though. Personally, Durant has been called a coward, the worth of his hypothesized future championship and legacy already questioned, and his jerseys seemed to serve as a substitute for sparklers in Oklahoma’s capital last night. On a macro level, the current parity of the NBA has to leave fans from Orlando to Portland wondering if they might as well start waiving their white flags.
I understand why Durant made his move. I’m in no position to judge who I believe to be the second best basketball player on the planet. I do, however, want to comment on Durant’s signing and why it personally stung.
My uneasiness when I read the news is because of an article I read less than six weeks ago in Sports Illustrated. I lifted some of the more notable quotes on a second read of Lee Jenkins’ piece:
“I think of myself as a small-town kid,” Durant says. “I liked the small-town vibe. But it was a ghost town. The downtown wasn’t really a downtown. I don’t remember a single tall building. Now I look at that building and it’s a beacon,
reminding me what we came from.”
“Our world revolves around championships,” Durant says. “Who won the championship? Who will win the championship? If you’re not the champion, you’re a loser. If you’re not first, you’re last. Don’t get me wrong, I want to win a championship
more than anybody, but if you go through the journey we’ve gone through, you can also appreciate other things.” Like the skyscraper, completed nearly four years ago, towering outside his window.
“The Thunder has given us a worldwide brand we’ve never had before,” says the mayor, Mick Cornett. “The exposure has been immeasurable. You tell somebody in another country you’re from Oklahoma City, and they say, ‘Kevin Durant.’”
My first thought after reading Durant’s words? He possesses maturity, a keen mind, and a refreshing, genuine sense of romanticism. Three qualities a vast majority of us want our favorite athletes to embody outside of our competition. Combined with his charitable spirit, it's easy to see why Durant was worshiped and so eagerly integrated into the town's branding.
My second reaction was a realization that outside of oil, Kevin Durant was truly the most valuable commodity to Oklahoma City and perhaps the entire state. Before the Thunder came to town, was the city best known for a tragic act of domestic
terrorism or an occasional tornado? (My age makes it hard to accurately speculate on this, but suggested Google searches seem to confirm this). I’d make the case he meant more to his team than LeBron James does to the Cavaliers- There was a basketball team
on Lake Erie’s shores before the arrival of the Chosen One. In Oklahoma City, there was never a time before Durant. He took, and fittingly made, the franchise’s first shot… Now they enter Year 1 A.D. with only a crushing fear their other destroyer
of worlds might soon follow him out the door, and a long rebuild will likely have to proceed after the passing storm.
That’s why I think the desire to criticize Durant crept in. I, like the thousands of Thunder diehards, are in the position of being fans of what the sports world label small market teams. Cities where free agents don’t historically want to sign
(Cleveland’s zip codes aren’t sexier than 90210?). Organizations whose shallower pockets limit their ability to retain star players (Hello, Reds and Indians). Franchises whose championship windows are impossible to permanently wedge open, if they can ever
even be cracked an inch in the first place (Looking at you, Blue Jackets). The highs are much more meaningful because of these factors (Thank you, Cavs), but the lows always seem to be far more recurring.
Oklahoma City fans have to be discouraged because their organization was a model of how to do all those right things. The team molded a lineup with both depth and talent around their star. The front office correctly pegged players that could keep the pipeline of great prospects flowing to reinforce the amount of chances for a title. The franchise overcame injuries to almost annually make deep runs in the playoffs. The coach, who many questioned after being plucked from the collegiate ranks, added fresh perspectives to take the team's play to new heights. Four quarters away from a chance for a championship, three separate times, the tipping point Durant sensed was on the precipice seemed inevitable. Then over the course of a few nights it wasn't. Now, the guy who cast a shadow much larger than his 6'9" frame across the culture, economy, and trajectory of the city is gone. He believe he likely sets off to win multiple championships to build an impressive legacy on the court; the one thing he had not yet been able to construct around him in his current life, even though it's hard to believe the framework wasn't almost finished.
In the series finale of The Office, Andy Bernard delivers his parting words in a monologue about wishing you could realize you were in the good old days before you left them. The quotes above sure make it seem like Durant felt in Oklahoma City he was simultaneously creating and living in them. I don't think anyone can disagree with his assessment that great days will be plentiful in San Francisco in the next few years, but it seems he's leaving his current set too soon. After such an exciting cliffhanger, it's somewhat cruel the fans won't get another season to watch.
“But it’s not just that,” Durant continues. “I drive through downtown, through midtown, through the Asian district and see so many different businesses, so many different people. It’s a big, diverse city that’s grown with the team… I know that’s not a championship. But the championships, the records, the who’s the best player—there will always be new champions and new records and new players. What we’re talking about, these are jobs, these are lives, these are things that will matter for 40 years, and that is very cool to me.”
Above, is one final quote from the aforementioned article. Durant could easily go on to win several titles with the roster he's about to join. His business acumen combined with plentiful opportunities in the city he's about to live is likely to expand his wealth. The question we'll have to wait 40 years to answer is how many rings, how much fun, and how many dollars will be enough to make Durant believe his legacy wouldn't have been better off spurring more livelihoods, catalyzing more growth, and delivering just a single title as a forefather to both the city he developed, and the team that helped develop him.
J. Nave
