To Be Continued: Westbrook Cometh
The Thunder playoff run is over, but with the NBA Awards postponed until June and the next season looming just after that, don’t expect to escape the Westbrook narrative.
Nobody has managed to polarize the NBA quite like Russell Westbrook has. The gap in discussing value vs. detriment when it comes to U.S.S. Russ is as wide and as impenetrable as the rift on the floor during third-grade dances where both genders are plastered against their respective walls. They don’t just not agree — they despise each other. I can write two different versions of the Russell Westbrook article and have an equal measure of responses to each of them. I might also have to fight someone in the process.
Part of this is because watching Russell Westbrook play basketball isn’t a passive experience; it’s a cascading and volatile ride on the emotional spectrum. While you can appreciate the subdued brilliance of Kawhi Leonard in peace, watching Russ you can’t help but scream, either with or at him. Sometimes — both. On one play he can miss a free-throw, get his own rebound, dribble it out and hit a three in Pat Beverly’s grill. On the very next one he can rob his own teammate of an easy put-back, do the exact same maneuver and drive back in for a miss. On one play he can miss a free-throw, get his own rebound, dribble it out and hit a three in Pat Beverly’s grill. On the very next one he can rob his own teammate of an easy put-back, do the exact same maneuver and drive back in for a miss.
No matter how you feel about Russell Westbrook, you can’t deny his numbers, and yes, in many ways basketball is a game of numbers. The final outcome of each game is tied to a numerical value and concepts of lower or greater in simple terms. Russell’s numbers are pretty absurd. On the year he is 31.6 points, 10.7 rebounds and 10.4 assists. In the playoffs he pushed that to 37.4 points, 11.6 rebounds and 10.8 assists while pulling behind him a rickety wooden cart with two wheels missing and a hole where the floor is supposed to be.
Of course you can also look at his numbers in the fourth quarter (not great, he went 0 for 5 from three in the final 12 of the elimination game). You can look at his efficiency rating and how many shots he takes to get to his point milestones (shout out to Patty Bev). How he both rallies the team around him and antagonizes literally everyone else with his unique gravitational pull. With Russ you have to take the good with the best, but can you actually win for that?
Part of the appeal of Russell Westbrook is that he is the literal id of the world. When Kevin Durant left, he took all of the fucks left in Oklahoma City with him and Russ just never bothered to re-up. From the subliminal shots, to the “I don’t give a shit attitude,” to grabbing the mic from his teammates Kanye style, Russell Westbrook truly does what he wants. But does he want to win?
As a player, he plays with the chip on his shoulder, but one that at times seems as big as a planet. He is Sisyphus pushing the Oklahoma City Thunder up a hill, and it feels sometimes like the whole world is pushing in the opposite direction? Does he have to do this all on his own? Yes and no. And that’s the conundrum of Russell Westbrook at its core.
You can argue that the OKC +/- differential with Westbrook on and off the floor is a staggering contrast of a Playoff team and the Brooklyn Nets. Without him, everyone not named Steven Adams looks like four random guys just wondered onto the court off the street and were asked to play basketball against a professional franchise (subsequently, Steven Adams looks like he was invited to a Hell in a Cage match but took the wrong turn somewhere along the way). Andre Roberson, professional basketball player, went 3 for 21 from the free-throw line in the 2017 Playoffs for the Thunder. By contrast, DeAndre Jordan is 13 for 30. DeAndre is two off from making half; Andre makes 1 out of each 7. Maybe he should change his first name this summer; maybe he should hit the gym?
But, what if it’s all a mirage? What if Russell’s brilliance against the backdrop of the Great Depression that is OKC is a self-fulfilling prophecy? Does the Thunder have any plays that don’t involve “just throw it to Russ?” Does anyone dare run a set when Russ is launching Leroy Jenkins attempts at the top of the shot-clock? Watching OKC play you can see they’ve developed a nervous twitch that basically involves finding Russ and then giving him the ball as much as possible. What if they had a year without him? Would they run plays? Would they be more efficient and well drilled? Is Russ vs. OKC a reality of the franchise at a crossroads or a self-fulfilling prophecy of letting Russ drive home even though you know he had three beers?
The reality is, we might not get the answer to this question because Russell Westbrook is coming back in 2018 and he will still have something to prove. God help us all if we give the MVP to James Harden for doing essentially a lesser version of what Russ did, with better teammates and system while receiving universal praise while fan opinion on Russ is split like the Red Sea. He might actually burn every arena he plays in. But even if he gets the MVP, the Russ narrative will not go away.
Even as I write this I can hear the “he can’t possibly keep this up for another year,” and one thing that you should have learned about your own personal internal devil monologue that is Russell Westbrook — you can’t tell him what to do. Russell is the personification of every “oh yeah? Watch this” or “hold my beer” uttered by a student after a fourth beer. Russell is the only person who can watch a cartoon of Superman punching an asteroid and then go “I can do that.” Telling him he can’t, will only make him go harder.
So here we stand, facing another prospect of pissed off Russell Westbrook. The Russell Westbrook who convinced himself that the world stacked the deck against him and no one wants to see him winning. No one wants to see him stunting on us. Even though, half the world has been living vicariously through his fearless forages to the rim for 81(plus 5). We want to see Russ attack the hoop like prey that he’s stalked and hunted and finally trapped after five hours. But we also don’t want to see him throw away a team’s possible success for this. Russell Westbrook is basketball nicotine, even when you know he’s bad he’s so damn good.
The Thunder can add pieces (*checks their financials*)… The Thunder can’t add significant enough pieces to right the Russell Westbrook narrative into anything other than a 2paccian Me Against The World campaign. They can build, but they can’t build too much because their infrastructure is infinitely shaped by the foundation that is Russell Westbrook, and in 2018 we are going to see more of the same.
