Scott Ostler: Fans learning what makes Kevin Durant tick.
One of the most telling moments of Kevin Durant’s brief appearance in Game 5 of the NBA Finals on Monday night was brief and inconsequential.
Durant was guarding Fred VanVleet when the Raptors’ bowling ball tried to drive the lane right through him. VanVleet shot a couple of stiff right forearms to Durant’s midsection, and Durant was whistled for a foul.
Durant stood toe-to-toe with VanVleet, looking straight down at his foot-shorter foe, and gave the kid a piece of his mind for several seconds.
I could be wrong, but it looked to me like
Durant was saying hello.
Maybe he was even giving some respect to the undrafted nobody who has played his way into relevance with a great team, and who left some blood and a tooth on the court in Game 4 but came back to give more. Durant had to respect that.
Durant’s competitive juices were flowing, for sure, but so was his love for the game and for the competition.
That’s why Durant’s Achilles injury might lead to good things in the form of perspective. Above and beyond all the chatter and debate and criticism and even hate with which Durant deals, he’s all about basketball. He’ll find a way to get back onto the court. When he does, maybe he’ll be wiser, and so will the rest of us.
The outside world already sees Durant in a different light, after learning how badly he wanted to play, and seeing how much a part of the Warriors’ fiber he has become.
The injury even dramatically increases the chances that Durant eventually will suit up for the Warriors again. It seems quite possible he will exercise his one-season option and be on the payroll ($31.5 million) while he rehabs.
He’s much more of a risk for other teams now, who might shy away from signing him to an extended-years contract, knowing he probably won’t play next season, and might not be the same player when he does return.
That could mean Durant will be around when the Warriors open Chase Center in San Francisco, as a strong, positive presence for the fans, and as a friend and spiritual guide to his teammates.
Another result of the injury is that it might allow Durant to not only see how his teammates love and respect him, but also to see that he’s not as hated by the world as he might have allowed himself to believe.
Many have written and said that Durant has been “under attack” by critics who say he’s wimpy, soft, selfish. Maybe in the wake of his injury, feeling the love and support from many sides, he will learn that this is at least partly a myth, a deception.
Durant has been under attack by the usual suspects: The Hot-Take All-Stars and the Super Trolls. It can get ugly and personal.
Maybe Durant will come to realize that those sub-species are smaller in number than their noise might suggest. Yes, there are people who believe Durant is soft, but there are also people who believe Bigfoot killed Kennedy.
Durant’s mom, Wanda Durant, lashed out on Twitter at the critics who, she points out, don’t know her son. The injury already has given all of us a chance to get to know her son better.
We know more about his toughness, his competitive fire and his assimilation into the Warriors’ family. It’s hard to believe the words, tears and rage of his teammates after Game 5, on behalf of their fallen brother, won’t make a profound impact on Durant.
Maybe he’ll see that whatever appreciation and respect his teammates had for him grew as they watched him try to will himself back into action, to join their fight.
Maybe Durant will have time to reflect and see the difference between hate and debate. Those who believe the Warriors are more fun to watch without Durant are like art critics arguing Monet against Picasso. It’s a matter of taste, not hate.
Even the argument that the Warriors are a better team without him — an argument that took a gut punch Monday — isn’t as foolish as Durant’s teammates say it is. But those, too, are mostly artistic debates, not character criticisms.
Durant will feel the love, from many quarters. Prior to his injury, Toronto forward Pascal Siakam said, “No matter if you’re winning or losing or whatever the case might be, (Durant) always has that, just that swag, that everything is going to be OK. You can always see in his eyes that at any given time, he can kind of take over.”
Kind of ? The Warriors’ most sensitive and emotionally fragile player might be the coldest-blooded crunch-time
hombre in the league. Athletes like to say everything happens for a reason. I dispute that. Maybe we’re all just tossed down here free to create our own narratives, maybe to be judged at some future time.
Whichever way it is, we all hate Durant’s injury, but we all might wind up the better for it.