Time to cut $2M bench warmer
The Nuggets need to do the right thing and cut ties with Isaiah Thomas, before a proud athlete’s tumble from legit MVP candidate to being a sad prop at the end of Denver’s bench becomes any more painfully awkward to watch.
Yes, this is a bummer deal. The Nuggets were hoping for a miracle, backed with a $2 million investment, in the belief Thomas could recover from a serious hip injury that wrecked his oncebrilliant career.
But all the shine in his game is gone, Denver coach Michael Malone has no place for Thomas in the playing rotation and $2 million isn’t nearly enough money to justify keeping him around as a reluctant team mascot. This is embarrassing for all concerned.
The Nuggets have reduced Thomas to a trivia question, a bit of cheesy, entertainment to keep the crowd distracted during a break from the action. With Denver beating Minnesota on the night I.T. was told to take a seat on the end of the bench, a kid was plucked from the stands during a timeout to play a “Who am I?” contest. Clues were revealed, Jeopardystyle, on the jumbo scoreboard screen suspended over midcourt.
The hints began with a reminder of what point guard was selected with the final pick of the 2011 NBA draft and ended with the names of I.T.’s three children. As the trivia contestant scanned his brain in the hope of winning a prize, Thomas sat on the bench and craned his neck at his personal history, listed in big,
block letters on the scoreboard.
For those of you keeping score at home, the kid won. And that trivia answer was close to getting in the game as Thomas got.
Although he stands only 5 feet, 9 inches tall, Thomas is too big for the Nuggets to hide in plain sight, because on a national level, the broken-down point guard remains a bigger brand name than any of his teammates, including rising star Nikola Jokic.
But after grading I.T.’s performance in only nine games since his return from injury, the Nuggets have decided the minuses of Thomas outweigh the plusses, the same sad conclusion reached by the Cavaliers and Lakers during the past 14 months.
Now there’s no need to ride the stationary bike near the court to warm up, as has been I.T.’s custom because he’s banished to the bench’s last seat. Resigned to his fate, Thomas even removed his trademark headband as he watched Denver rout Minnesota.
Yes, this stinks. We all love a sweet comeback story. All that’s left for Thomas, however, is to put on a good face and be a $2 million cheerleader.
It’s a charade that would be foolish to maintain for the long haul, especially if the Nuggets advance deep in the playoffs, dragging around I.T. like 185 pounds of excess baggage, filled with scrapbooks of fading photographs snapped before Thomas got hurt, like the time he scored 53 points to lead Boston to victory against Washington during the 2017 playoffs.
While the veteran point guard bobs his head to the beat of songs in the Pepsi Center, Thomas has gone mute with the media, declining interviews, because he doesn’t want to reveal what’s on his troubled mind.
Would it be insensitive to suggest that if I.T. was tough enough to average 28.9 points per game for the Celtics two years ago, he should be professional enough now to face the music and answer a few questions during the tough times?
But I get it. At this point, the Book of Isaiah makes for sad reading. And Thomas wants to avoid reading anything that makes him more miserable.
I know this is true. How? Although I.T. has lost his burst off the dribble and is a liability on defense, he still has enough skills to block me, a slow old scribe.
After this headline appeared last week in The Post: “Is it time the Nuggets end the Isaiah Thomas experiment?” with my name attached, I was blocked from Thomas’ Twitter account, no longer worthy of being among his followers.
This is no big deal, other than to reveal how much I.T. sincerely cares about the sorry current state of his basketball affairs.
Thomas slipped out of the locker room Thursday morning, in active avoidance of the TV cameras’ glare, trying to be as invisible as the ghost of the elite player whose body betrayed him.
Hey, didn’t you used to be I.T., the NBA’s feisty little lion king?
Now, as Thomas headed for the exit on game day, he was just an athlete on the wrong side of age 30, hurting both physically and emotionally, hiding his pain under a black hoodie, which had these words emblazoned on one sleeve:
Thomas has earned too much respect on the court to be a silly $2 million prop on the end of Denver’s bench.
Shake his hand, offer sincere thanks for trying to beat the odds and cut ties with him.
Then let Thomas walk away with what’s left of his dignity.