Business vs Loyalty: What the Isaiah Thomas Trade Reminded Us
Is being a sports fan supposed to be this hard?

Being a sports fan is a risky business. For us die-hards, some would even say it’s a tough job. We invest emotionally in the endeavors of a bunch of millionaires whom we’ll never personally know, allow our moods to swing according to their wins and losses. We tire ourselves out, screaming our support for them, despite the knowledge that our individual voices will always be lost in the din of the crowd.
It’s rewarding, too, for sure. We allow ourselves to be inspired by the best athletes in the world, and get to rejoice in their victories as well, the proverbial “sixth man”. Along the way, we feel familiarity and camaraderie with those men and women who — besides their extraordinary ability to shoot a ball or jump incredible heights — are probably not much different from us.
That’s what makes the Isaiah Thomas-Kyrie Irving trade so difficult.
We’re reminded that for the most part in NBA basketball, loyalties only extend as far as they are good for business.
If you’re a genuine fan of either the Cavaliers or the Celtics, you’d probably agree that some part of this transaction — if not a great portion of it — hurt. You can communicate it a dozen ways, as we’ve already seen in the storm online: it’s crazy, it’s shocking, it’s otherworldly.
Speaking from the point of view of a Boston fan, losing Isaiah especially hurts.
His story is the kind that any good storyteller would love: Standing at a mere 5’9, not many expected him to excel in the NBA. In fact, he almost didn’t make it into the league; he was drafted at 60th in 2011, the very last name to be picked up by a team. Brief tenures in Sacramento and Phoenix validated his talent with basketball, but the labels he wore never shifted much due to his height. Not tall enough. Not good enough.
But then, he was traded to the Boston Celtics. Before we knew it, he was showcasing an ability to score that should have been impossible for a player his size. Arm-in-arm with a young, scrappy team that had no business challenging the top teams of the Eastern Conference, Isaiah and the Celtics crashed into the playoffs a few years ahead of schedule and revamped the meaning of the word “rebuild”.
Isaiah made the All-Star team twice. Outstanding poise and laser-focused shooting at the tail-end of games earned him the Game of Thrones-inspired nickname “King of the Fourth”, and suddenly, the city of Boston was hanging huge banners of him in the stations, reminding people of his draft position back in 2011: “Pick me last again,” they said. “Pick me last again.”
Thomas’ status as a cult hero in Boston was cemented when he tragically lost his sister Chyna in a car crash, but still suited up for the Playoffs, dedicating every game to her. This was punctuated with a marvelous 53-point masterpiece against Washington, on the eve of what would’ve been Chyna’s 23rd birthday. He finished the season 5th in MVP voting.
And then the dagger in the hearts of fans everywhere: the trade.
When Kyrie Irving put his own name on the block last July, declaring his desire to be traded, never in a hundred years did I think we would bid on him with IT. The possibility was… absurd. Yeah, that’s the right word. It was absurd to think about. Kyrie was good, really good, but IT had undeniably become the heart and soul of the team, a beloved figure among Celtics fans who previously had the likes of Bird and Russell as heroes.
I woke up to the news, which sunk into me like a jagged piece of metal, and spent the first few hours of the day telling people the same thing: “I am not okay with this. Not okay.” Also, “What in the actual fuuu — ” I’m not a Cavaliers fan, but I’m certain some of them felt a similar pang of loss at the news that we’d seen the last of Irving in wine and gold.
The dangers of being a basketball fan hit me in full force that day — all this emotional investment, all the pounding of the chest and the declarations of “all for one, one for all”, was given a sharp kick to the face, all due to one business decision.
Can you blame Celtics General Manager Danny Ainge for pulling the trigger? A logical mind would say no — there’s plenty of rationality over the trade. Kyrie is, by many accounts, as talented as Thomas, but also more accomplished on the Finals stage, younger, and on a better contract. But we basketball fans don’t always react with logic. Passion is the driving force behind our cheers, not logic. The few years of camaraderie we built with Isaiah cannot be captured on paper, no matter how well-thought out the trade components are.
Can one measure in a business transaction the worth of being a home-grown fighter, the sparkle in the eyes of kids who look forward to watching him play after school?
Apparently so, according to Ainge.
It’s the same lesson that a kid at a farm might learn when they realize that their favorite piglet has become ripe for the sausage factory. It’s a cruel lesson.
But perhaps that’s why it was up to Ainge to make such a decision. In the end, he does what’s best for the franchise, not the players. Not every GM would have had the guts to say yes to the deal, to basically tell a whole fanbase that they have to say goodbye to their hero. That’s why he’s the one in the GM’s chair, and not us. At some point, deals like this exist to remind us that NBA championships don’t give a damn about where one’s loyalties lie. They don’t care which players and which fans like each other the most, or who inspired whom the best.
No. NBA Championships only care about which team is fielding the best players playing the best basketball at any given time.
Isaiah Thomas, and everything that was part and parcel of the little guy — the 4th Quarter showboating, the high-fives and hugs with teammates following big plays, the spirited victories — were a product. Basketball being a business, Danny Ainge has opted to ship him out in favor of a (theoretically) better product. Now, we the fans are left to decide if we want to fall in love with it all over again.
The cycle repeats. We grow familiar with a new player. Build new camaraderie, establish new favorites, buy new jerseys to declare our allegiances in the colosseum of the basketball.
It raises wonderful questions for us fans to chew on — why exactly are we loyal to a team? Localities aside, why do we swallow these ups and downs of being a sports fan? Is it just the players? If so, do we stop cheering for a team when they leave town? Is not, then what is it? The coach? The history and tradition?
We’re left munching on them, the questions percolating in our minds as these two players swap jerseys.
We’re left with the taste in our mouths as Cavs fans begin practicing how to cheer for Isaiah, and Celtics fans begin practicing how to cheer for Kyrie.
(As of the time of this writing, Adrian Wojnorowski of the Vertical reports a failed Isaiah Thomas physical with Cleveland may yet nullify the trade. Let’s see what happens.)
