No. Definitely not. Forget about it. That’s what stuck Durant with his reputation in the first place.
He needs to be the guy riding into town on a white horse—not the guy Secretariat is carrying to the roses.
That town is San Antonio.
The Spurs have Victor Wembanyama—just as, rising from the ashes, they had Tim Duncan to build around at the turn of the century.
They have Stephon Castle and, likely, Dylan Harper as developing foundation pieces. Just as they had Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili back in the day.
But what these Spurs don’t have is David Robinson—the Hall of Famer who was existing mostly on fumes in his mid-30s.
Robinson won two titles with the Spurs, but nobody labels him a ring-chaser for riding Duncan’s coattails. He accepted a role, gave the young stars a role model and will be remembered as a great teammate.
Not as a guy—the face of the franchise—who failed to get the club over the hump for the better part of a decade.
Durant can be that guy. Durant needs to be that guy.
His place in NBA history depends upon it.
Just come in … gush about the greatness of Wemby … talk up the potential of the young prospects … note how a great GM and his puppet (see: Oklahoma City) can be a magical combination … and maybe even convince a couple of his old pals (say Jeff Green, Joe Harris and/or Kevon Looney) to join in on the fun for a couple of bucks.
Then just wait until the game clock winds down to seconds rather than minutes and bury a clutch jumper or two—a reminder as to why his winning numbers should outweigh his sometimes selfish intentions.
It’s hard to call winning two titles in the greatest three-year run of the post-Jordan era a mistake. But let’s be honest: It’s killing Durant.
Nobody roots for him anymore … except reluctantly when he rescues the Good Guys at the Olympics, where he showed he could still be Superman—even while wearing Clark Kent’s newspaper garb.
The Spurs already have a guy with superpowers. They need Durant to script his next chapter in the shadows at deadline.
