Kevin Durant: Even After Amazing FIBA World Championships, No Labels Please
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the next…(fill in the blank). KEVIN DURANT!
Since leading Team USA to gold in the 2010 FIBA World Championship, the explosive Oklahoma City Thunder small forward has gained many titles. Various sports journalists have dubbed him “the best player in the world,” “the modern prototype of a scorer,” and “the next Michael Jordan.”
One Sports Illustrated writer even anointed him the new “King of the NBA.”
All the buzz surrounding Durant is certainly deserved. There is nothing wrong with praising Durant’s game, predicting future accomplishments, or comparing him to other great players. But why do we have to label him? Why are we constantly looking for the next MJ?
This is actually a problem pervasive in society. For some reason, we seem to define everything in our lives. We need to know who our BFFs are, and Facebook broadcasts relationship statuses to the world. Even as kids, we are asked to determine our specific favorite colors or foods. (“What Billy?! You don’t know what your favorite color is? You like red and blue? Well choose, already, choose!”)
This preoccupation with titles does nothing but add unnecessary pressure to life. Things aren’t as black and white as we regularly try to make them.
Could it be that in this infotainment age we don’t have enough time for discussion and thus must package everything into a soundbite, a catchphrase, a label? Does our societal ADD force us to eschew depth, profundity, and shades of gray, instead replacing them with precise concision (or concise precision for that matter)?
In the alternate universe of professional sports, this tendency to affix labels to superior athletes often has harmful consequences. How many “next Jordans” couldn’t live up to the hype and were subsequently buried by the weight of unmet expectations? How many got drunk (literally and figuratively) off early success and then failed because they didn’t stay grounded or did something stupid?
I must admit that there are superstars who have succeeded despite (and occasionally due to) certain labels. However, most of these guys have ostensibly lost touch with reality.
Meanwhile, Durant has resisted labels his entire career. Let’s be honest; even his skill set—6′10, quick as a guard, best shooter in the league—screams “Don’t box me in!” He is that rare superstar who doesn’t self-promote, self-indulge, or self-destruct. He admittedly just wants to work hard and be as great a player as he can be.
Durant has even avoided the standard trademark of a sports star: a nickname.
Shaquille O'Neal has given himself more nicknames than Heinz has varieties: The Big Aristotle, Diesel, Shaqtus, etc. LeBron has “Chosen 1″ tattooed across his back, and he has repeatedly asserted his desire to become a global icon. Unfortunately, King James, your recent “Decision” has now scored you a spot among the most hated athletes in America. On the other hand, Durant is notoriously moniker-less.
Many sportswriters have tried to give him nicknames, claiming he needs one, as all great players do. Some call him the Durantula, though that sobriquet is neither official nor widely used. Nicknames can definitely be fun, but they are by no means necessary.
In Durant’s case, the use of his government name is simply a microcosm of his entire being.
The only other recent player who fits Durant’s description is Tim Duncan. Duncan has quietly led the San Antonio Spurs to four championships, winning two MVPs and countless other awards along the way.
Let me stress the word “quietly,” though. It’s unfortunate, but aside from us basketball purists who rejoice in watching Duncan’s flawless footwork and pinch-post bank shot, few people find his game entertaining, exciting, or even worth following.
You hear it all the time: people “appreciate” Duncan, but they don’t really “like” him. He doesn’t create new fans, make idle spectators root for him, or even make you wish he was on your team. (Would I have enjoyed having Tim Duncan a member of the Lakers? Of course. But did I ever think, what if he was on my team? Did I ever concoct any scenario by which he could come to LA? Not once.)
On the other hand, Durant’s game is the opposite of his demeanor. It’s loud. Not only is it effective, but it’s utterly enthralling. And he has just enough swagger to show us how confident he is in his talent without seeming cocky or selfish.
He’s just what the league needs: a superstar who commands attention solely because of his play. Furthermore, we usually associate a loud skill set with Vince Carter monster dunks or Allen Iverson killer crossovers, but Durant manages flair without being flashy. It seems lame to say, but he genuinely puts the fun in fundamental.
Am I saying that I wish LeBron and Shaq would shut their mouths and only play basketball? Definitely not. Frankly, they make the league much more interesting and give me something to chat about between pick-up runs at the gym.
LeBron and Shaq have provided me with countless hours of amusement, due to both their on-court ability and off-court antics. But sometimes we (and they) lose sight of what is truly important. Kevin Durant is a refreshing burst of clarity, and I just hope that his entire package maintains fidelity. We shouldn’t try to make him something he’s not, especially if he’s not doing that himself.
So let’s not label him, title him, or even find him a nickname. Let’s just enjoy watching a singular talent playing the game and living life the right way.
The Big Culture Shift? That has a nice ring to it.
