Tim Duncan, my hero — San Antonio’s hero.

It was the best birthday present ever.

The San Antonio Spurs won their first NBA title in franchise history on June 25, 1999, against the New York Knicks, in front of a raucous crowd in Madison Square Garden. I turned 8 the next day, and we celebrated. My family, alongside the whole city. Horns were blaring. People were shouting in the streets. San Antonio was on fire. And standing tall on stage, over a thousand miles away, next to our hero David Robinson, was a young, talented big man from Wake Forest. In his second year out of college Timothy Theodore Duncan was the best player on the brightest stage. The MVP. And the future of San Antonio basketball.

“More than being a legend for the San Antonio Spurs, Tim embodied basketball in San Antonio at-large.”

You see, when you’re a basketball player in San Antonio, it’s like a family. And if you’re good, you know everybody. You know all the best players from the local high schools. You know the college players at the University of Texas at San Antonio, the University of the Incarnate Word, St. Mary University and so many others — they play with you at open gyms. It’s a community. And the entire community knows that great basketball is played in San Antonio — but no one else understands. More than being a legend for the San Antonio Spurs, Tim embodied basketball in San Antonio at-large. Great, yet under appreciated.

The recruiters don’t frequent San Antonio like they do other major cities in Texas, such as Dallas or Houston — and certainly not the way they visit basketball mecca’s like New York City or Philadelphia. But we still played, and we played hard. Just like Tim. We had to work harder, we had to play smarter and we had to be better to get noticed. In the end, it wasn’t about the recognition, but knowing that we gave every last bit of energy we could.

It took a long time for many to truly grasp the greatness of Timmy. Unassuming in character, Tim was a silent killer. His instinct, in his era, was matched only by another legend that hung his sneakers up this year. (We shied away from acknowledging Kobe’s greatness for a long time because, you know, rivalry). Tim had a calm disposition. But, in an instant, could summon a fire that galvanized a franchise. That could confidently pull up for a three in overtime of the 2008 Western Conference Playoffs and give us a chance to play another day. We always had a chance to play another day.

In his career, Timmy hoisted five NBA championship trophies, three finals MVP trophies, two regular season MVP trophies and a city. The gentle giant means the world to the people of San Antonio — and especially its basketball players.

I played ball for a long time. And for a long time I thought that I’d be on that big stage, hoisting that trophy next to him, but life had other plans, and that’s okay. Many of us have moved on to bigger and better things, and some of us, such as Jordan Clarkson and Andre Roberson, are living the dream we all had.

But if the Big Fundamental gave me — and so many of us — anything, it was hope. That we could do it. That an unassuming kid with a calm, yet sometimes fiery disposition could make something of himself — even if not in basketball.

Maybe this is just me, and maybe I’m not speaking for the whole city of San Antonio — or even its basketball community — but I know in my heart that everyone feels it. I saw it in the outpouring of love for the greatest power forward of all-time today on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Tumblr… everywhere. Tim is loved.

We all knew this day was coming. But there is a part of me that, selfishly, didn’t want it to. Thank you, Timmy, for all that you gave to the city. And thank you, for all that you gave to me.