Siblings share it all, including rivalry
NBA’s Morris brothers have an L.A. story. They’d love a Hollywood ending too
Marcus Morris couldn’t believe his eyes as he scrolled through his phone after returning to his locker in the fourth quarter of an easy Clippers win over the Phoenix Suns.
“No way that happened,” he said, chuckling to himself.
There was Marcus, dealing with the frustration of an early exit bestowed on him by his usual foil — an NBA referee. And somehow the refs had gotten to Markieff too, booting the league’s notorious twin troublemakers during the same national TV doubleheader?
“I knew everybody would be like, we did that on purpose,” Marcus says. “First of all, we love playing. Second of all, we love money. So we’re not trying to get ejected.”
Marcus quickly reached out to Markieff, wondering what he did to draw the refs’ ire in the Lakers’ loss at Miami. Turned out, he had gotten into an official’s face while arguing a non-call. Marcus, meanwhile, had been tossed for taunting the Suns.
“It was two totally different cases, which was the funniest part,” Markieff says.
“Stuff always happens at the same time with us,” Marcus says. “I’m not even surprised anymore.”
More than a year into Marcus’ and Markieff’s arrival in Southern California, Los Angeles basketball fans finally got the full Morris twin experience. For those who have been following their journey from Philadelphia to the University of Kansas to locales across the NBA, it felt as if their careers had been building to that moment of comedic kismet. Of course, the twins still believe there is a higher pinnacle to achieve — the Lakers and Clippers facing off in an all-Staples Center playoff series with a distinct Morris flavor.
“Coming here, that was the first thought I had,” Markieff says. “Like, damn, I’d be competing against Marcus in the Western Conference finals.”
It didn’t happen in the NBA bubble last season as the Clippers blew a 3-1 series lead to the Denver Nuggets in the conference semifinals. And now the Clippers are tasked with overcoming a 2-1 series deficit against the Dallas Mavericks.
The good news for those who are pining for the L.A.centric West finals that seemed preordained when the Lakers added Anthony Davis and the Clippers brought in Kawhi Leonard and Paul George is that the Morris twins have a way of getting what they want — even against incredible odds.
Just because Angel Morris had twin boys who loved to play basketball didn’t mean they were going to sprout to 6 feet 8 and 6 feet 9 in high school and become four-star recruits. Just because Kansas offered them
scholarships didn’t mean they were going to magically be plucked one after the other in the NBA draft (Markieff went 13th, Marcus 14th, which was only fitting since Markieff beat Marcus into this world by seven minutes). Just because the twins were in the NBA didn’t mean they would ever be teammates again, and yet it wasn’t too long before Marcus was trade to the Suns, who drafted Markieff, for a reunion in the desert.
The Southern California rendezvous is the latest cosmic twist. Last winter the Clippers traded for Marcus, and a month later, when Markieff got a buyout from Detroit, he promptly signed with the Lakers. Now the twins are raising their young families 10 minutes apart in Playa del Rey (Markieff ) and Manhattan Beach (Marcus).
After all those fortuitous bounces to get here, the Morris twins do realize they can only control so much. If the Clippers again bow out of the playoffs early, will Marcus be a casualty of roster reconstruction? Will the Lakers look in another direction for their end-of-rotation depth and part with a veteran like Markieff?
The fates may already have intervened too many times on the twins’ behalf, but at this point they have good reason to trust their luck.
In 2008, as the Kansas beat reporter for the Kansas City Star, I met Marcus and Markieff when I traveled to Philadelphia to profile them.
I was struck by how openly affectionate two big, tough guys were toward one other — and how their orbit was centered around the guiding light of their mother, Angel, who never had help from their father.
Angel worked so much that Marcus and Markieff had to rely on each other. To reward her sacrifice, they stayed in lockstep, and, somewhere along the way, they basically became one.
Sure enough, Angel uprooted with Marcus and Markieff from Philadelphia to the idyllic prairie college town of Lawrence, Kan., to support them. It was not a seamless transition. Before their first summer on campus ended, Markieff was accused of shooting a woman with a BB gun from their dorm room window.
Of their upbringing, they had told me, “Ain’t no trouble like Philly trouble,” and that was ringing true.
But over the next two years, they started to figure it out. On the court, their skill level, particularly when they shared the floor, began to overwhelm opponents. Off it, they learned how to disarm their skeptics with subtle humor and charm.
They said they were prepared, and maybe they were. But still it was hard when Markieff started strong with the Suns while Marcus was spending his first season in the NBA’s developmental league, looking for a spark with the Houston Rockets.
“It was tough, man, because you always had each other,” Marcus says. “So anytime he wasn’t doing well or needed a boost, I was always there and vice versa. The game just comes so much easier when we’re together.”
Halfway through their second season, the Rockets told Marcus they were trading him and gave him a few options. The Suns were one of them.
They moved into a fivebedroom house with a couple of their friends.
“It was like ... paradise,” Markieff says.
The twins signed what they believed to be a teamfriendly deal for both to stay in Phoenix and keep the dream alive. But after the 2014-15 season, the Suns traded Marcus to Detroit. Feeling spurned, Markieff demanded a trade. The next season, the Suns obliged, sending him to Washington.
Looking back, Markieff says he handled the situation immaturely. He feels it contributed to the twins’ reputation as “bad boys.”
“We’re not the top guys in the league, but the players know what you’re up against when you gotta go against me and my brother,” Markieff says.
In Detroit, Boston and New York, Marcus became a starter and key cog by improving his three-point shooting and bringing intimidation into every battle. Markieff ’s best years were in Phoenix and Washington, but he carved out a niche as a stretch power forward who also brought that trademark Morris intensity.
Last year, the Lakers and Clippers each decided they could use some of that.
Marcus and Markieff may wield a hard edge as basketball’s version of enforcers, but their day-to-day life in L.A. has nurtured their softer side.
Marcus has two young sons, while Markieff has a daughter and a son on the way.
The tight squeeze of the shortened pandemic season, with more games each week, has made it more difficult to balance basketball and family.
Says Marcus, “We never had our dad growing up, so being in our kids’ life is a purpose for us. It’s my biggest purpose in life to raise these kids to be men and be successful in life. I take my hat off to my mom for raising us like that.”
With the Lakers and Clippers alternating games at Staples Center, they’re rarely free to hang out on the same day, but they often stop by each other’s homes late at night on the way back from a game and catch up. Anything beats being apart, and they’re hopeful the fun won’t end anytime soon.
Marcus signed a fouryear, $64-million deal with the Clippers last offseason. He should be safe from another move, but if they don’t turn the Mavericks series around and advance to the second round, there’s a chance the team will change the chemistry.
Markieff played key minutes in the bubble for the Lakers on the way to his family’s first NBA championship and helped the team this season as it trudged through injuries to stars LeBron James and Davis.
“I hope this is the last stop of my career,” Markieff says. “I would do anything to get back. Playing with LeBron and AD in L.A. and winning multiple championships? That would be a perfect ending.”
On that note, Marcus has other ideas — he wants his own ring now.
Asked about last season’s disappointment, Marcus sees a deeper reason there was no Lakers-Clippers playoff series.
“That matchup wasn’t supposed to happen in the bubble,” Marcus says. “That was supposed to happen in Staples Center.”
Coming from a Morris twin, that logic makes perfect sense.
‘Coming here, that was the first thought I had. Like damn, I’d be competing against Marcus in the Western Conference finals.’ — MARKIEFF MORRIS