Doc's Strange Son, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Austin Rivers
I realized the End Times were upon us when Austin Rivers began taunting one of the world's best basketball players.
It was the third quarter of Game 3, and the Los Angeles Clippers were smacking a Houston Rockets team into further oblivion.
Rivers had just Cloroxed a prewashed Jason Terry with a single jab step, and after lacing a 28-footer in Terry's face, he turned to the Staples Center crowd and asserted his newfound status as its one and only god with a James Harden wrist stir.
This was the moment I realized we had all slipped into an alternate, bizzaro reality where Austin Rivers clowns on one of the league's leading scorers and matches him point-for-point.
It was a transformative moment, even as an observer with no stake in the result. Like many other NBA sociopaths, I tuned in to the Clippers-Rockets series for the irony—to watch Austin Rivers attack the lane like a newborn deer in Heelys as he tries desperately to fill the shoes of an injured Chris Paul.
And on several occasions in Game 1 and 2, I got what I expected:
But then something changed, and Austin Rivers began playing like not-Austin Rivers:
Through four games, Rivers has put together 17-, 10-, 25- and 12-point nights. He's been more than serviceable, and while his ascension can only be viewed as a sign of the coming nuclear winter, it's led me to make some dramatic reappraisals.
What I've come to tell you is that Austin Rivers is a treasure, and we should cherish his weird craziness for as long as possible before the warheads pierce the troposphere and motorcycle gangs with comically impractical weapons take control of the ruined remains of North America’s major cities.
I have chosen to embrace the Austpocalypse and plan to find relief in total unpredictable chaos.
Here's why you should too:
Bad Austin Rivers: Still the Best
We have to start here. It's the only way because bad Austin Rivers will always be the best Austin Rivers.
Bad Austin Rivers is a man on a kamikaze mission who blames inertia and gravity on other people.
As Blake Griffin once illustrated, Rivers will clear out the entire lane just to make way for a drive, which vacillates between "all right, I see what he was trying to do" and an aerial Russian roulette routine.
To appreciate Austin Rivers is to appreciate the struggle, and you love that damn struggle.
Good Austin Rivers Is a Killer
When Austin Rivers can keep his legs from attacking one another, he can be pretty damn entertaining.
The Clippers guard took both Pablo Prigioni and Dwight Howard to the laundromat on one take in Game 3, and neither has been the same since.
Low Risk, High Upside
The Austin Rivers wagon is picking up steam and requires zero social capital to invest in.
Taking a flier on Rivers like putting a five-spot on the 40-1 horse slamming around in the starting gate. It might win the whole thing; it might jump a fence and make a break for the border. Either way, you're getting your money's worth.
Knowing this now, everyone's finally getting in on the action:
"So how much is GM Doc gonna pay unrestricted free agent Austin Rivers this summer?
— Jeremy Woo (@Jeremy_Woo) May 11, 2015"
Get in now. You can always hop off and act like you were kidding later.
The Most Heartwarming Nepotism
Everyone bagged on head coach Doc Rivers for bringing his son to Los Angeles from the New Orleans Pelicans in January.
Most figured it to be a glaring instance of cronyism, and they're probably right—but it's adorable cronyism.
So there it is: All you need to know about your new favorite wild card, Austin Rivers.
He'll almost certainly come back to earth soon, and that's fine. But until then, let's roll the dice and see how far he can ride this wheelie into the nuclear sunset.
Dan is on Twitter. Life's short. Embrace the Austpocalypse.
