The Fundamental Difference Between the Star Trios in Miami and OKC

Comparison between the aligned superstars in Miami and Oklahoma City is somewhat inevitable. The arrangement of three phenomenally talented players only naturally calls to mind a similarly situated trio, and though the two teams—and their complementary parts—are quite different, all of that context is muted in the comparative analysis of the team's three best players.

Never mind the fact that divorcing each individual player from his specific situation renders the association meaningless; we just can't help ourselves when it comes to the triangled amassing of such outstanding players, and thus LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh act as a standard for Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and James Harden—and vice versa.

And thus, because the Thunder are surging to overtake their series against the San Antonio Spurs while the Heat happen to be faltering in their own against the Boston Celtics, one of these groups is deeply flawed while the other is all that is right with basketball. Based on their current circumstances and the respective reputations of both teams (and more specifically, of James and Durant), I'll leave you to decide which is which.

That said, there is an underlying difference between the two trios that has some instructive potential. It isn't some intangible indictment of James or tone-deaf praising of Durant, but a lesson for fans, media members, coaches, general managers, owners and teammates alike. There's something to be learned from the Thunder model, so to speak, and it happens to be something that entirely evades assessment of the Heat: patience.

When James, Wade and Bosh all agreed to sign with the same team, the countdown began. Every second spent would be one in contention, and anything less than a title would be seen as an embarrassing failure. Otherwise, James would be blamed, or Bosh, or Erik Spoelstra. The important thing is that someone was held accountable when such a talented core came up short, despite the fact that injuries and systemic complications needed to be accounted for along the way.

Meanwhile, the Thunder—despite their relatively rapid development—were given the luxury of a gradual curve. They lost a Western Conference Finals in 2011 that they were supposed to win and stewed together as a core, slowly building toward an inevitable NBA Finals appearance, if not more. This lockout-damaged season was thought to be their year; with young legs, stability and an incredible amount of talent, Oklahoma City seemed as poised as any club to compete for the title. 

Yet anything less would be just a Thunder loss, and though Westbrook would surely draw an incredible amount of national ire in the case of an OKC defeat, the sun would rise the following day.

Should the Heat lose, however, then our galaxy's central star would undoubtedly supernova. We'd be left to freeze (Or burn? I'm fuzzy on the physics) in a wasteland of narrative conjecture, with the supposed super team obliterated by its critics.

The Thunder—thanks to their youth and initial lack of hype—were allowed to fail. They lost and grew, and eventually, they grew out of losing. Their coach was allowed to make mistakes, their best player was given the chance to shrink and swell, and the overall product was reinforced with its own naturalism.

Therein lies the lesson for the Heat, insomuch as the Thunder have a lesson to offer a team of more veteran stars on a very different trajectory. There are differences aplenty between the two franchises, but none is greater than the world of expectation and allowance that separate them.