duncan228
05-30-2008, 03:07 PM
http://www.tsn.ca/nba/story/?id=239231&lid=sublink03&lpos=topRelated_nba
Defining A Legacy: Tim Duncan
Tim Chisholm
Garnett, Duncan, Rasheed and Kobe. One-name wonders who have defined the era that sits between Shaq and LeBron. Guys who are now in the prime of their athletic careers who also happen to be leading the final four teams vying for the NBA Championship.
Of the four, Tim Duncan has the least to gain by winning the 2008 NBA title. He has a closet full of hardware - four Championship rings, two MVP awards, three Finals MVP awards and an Olympic gold medal - and is generally regarded as the greatest power forward to ever play in the NBA. For him to win a title this year would only add back-to-back Championships to his résumé which is a feat that, while impressive, won't amount to much in terms of understanding or defining his career.
Duncan was one of the few players in the NBA who came into the draft with real fanfare and expectations. He was a consensus number one pick in 1997 and, by virtue of an injury to David Robinson that torpedoed San Antonio's 1996-1997 season, he gave the Spurs a second franchise big man without them ever having to tank and rebuild. By his sophomore season in the NBA Duncan was a Champion and his upward trajectory was launched, as he was on his way to four titles in the next nine years.
But Duncan's impact on the NBA culture remained somewhat dormant. Even as he was demonstrating on an annual basis the value of sound fundamentals and a traditional post game, he was never in discussion as the league's best player nor was he ever considered a trendsetter or forbearer for any movement in the NBA. Even in the years that he won the MVP award (2002, 2003) he was awarded mostly on the basis of his winning percentages and inarguable success rate, not so much because he was a unanimous choice as the greatest player in the NBA during those two years. No one debated that he was deserving of the award (because he was) but much like Ben Wallace winning four Defensive Player of the Year awards, he seemed more like a default choice rather than an obvious one.
And that is the cross that Duncan has had to bear for his entire career. For all that he has accomplished as an individual and as a teammate - and that is more than any of the four players under discussion - he's never received the attention he deserves because he's a throwback player in a forward-thinking league. In many ways he represented the direction and style of play that the league and its fans were trying to distance themselves from, regardless of how effective it was for a ten-year-and-running span. He played a slow and methodical game, often with severe efficiency, when everyone else wanted to shoot forty times per game and go one-on-one every possession. He's the kind of player that most NBA fans acknowledge as one of the all-time greats, but they do so in passing. He's mentioned out of responsibility rather than out of reverence. People will worship at the feet of Kobe and Garnett, but they'll merely nod their heads at the temple of Duncan.
However, his impact on the game and on the league runs far deeper than most people seem to think. He and his style of play reminded a great many in the NBA what the value of a traditional approach to winning could offer. In the wake of the superhuman Michael Jordan-era and his six runs to the title, the league needed to be reminded that that kind of lightning-in-a-bottle comes along far to rarely to build a team around. Instead Duncan reminded people that the way teams used to win titles was with defense, post play and controlling the tempo of the game. While these are things that the great Bulls team also excelled at, having the greatest player of all time on your team sort of puts the attention to the little things on the backburner. When a team faces the Spurs, though, they play the Spurs' way. And the Spurs' way of playing has been exemplified in the play of Duncan; smart, controlled and deadly. He's as competitive as any Iverson or O'Neal, but he hides it behind the knowledge that and his teammates are, more often than not, simply better at playing forty-eight minutes of basketball than their opponents…and he's got the hardware to back that thinking up. His - and thus the Spurs' - mindset was not only clearly evident in the construction (and success) of the modern Pistons franchise, but also in the architecture of the Cavs, Bulls and Celtics teams who stress defense and teamwork before any individual accolades. It may not be the most fan-friendly approach to team-building, but its success rate is nothing to laugh at. So while Duncan may not have had quite as obvious an impact as some of the other players of his time, his impact runs deeply through the league, nonetheless.
The problem is that players don't want to be like Tim Duncan these days; they want to be Kevin Garnett. So in that way Duncan could be considered the last of a dying breed of big men, the last relic of a time when big men played as much with their brains as they did with their athleticism in the name of victories. If Kevin Garnett was the re-definition of what was possible, especially statistically, at the power forward spot, Duncan was the previous definition. He was the player more interested in playing with his head than his hops. It probably prevented him from being a far more popular player (although nine consecutive starting nods to the All-Star team suggest he was hardly ignored by fans) but when push comes to shove I think that many early 00's stars would trade-in their endorsements and his All-Star nods if it meant they could have the kind of résumé that Duncan gets to take with him when he retires.
The bottom line is that while Duncan may never have graced the cover of as many magazines as Kobe or Garnett, he nonetheless impacted the league with his insistence on winning and winning often. For some players being in the NBA is about style and presentation, refusing to change their game that they see as their identity. Duncan, however, molded his game to give himself the best shot at winning. He was talented enough to play like many of the flashier guys of his time, but he was always more concerned with the flash on his fingers than the flash on SportsCentre. It may not be popular, but last time I checked athletes were measured in rings, and Duncan has simply outpaced any player of his era in that regard. 2008 and beyond will only serve to wind down his storied career, he has nothing left to prove as an NBA legend.
Defining A Legacy: Tim Duncan
Tim Chisholm
Garnett, Duncan, Rasheed and Kobe. One-name wonders who have defined the era that sits between Shaq and LeBron. Guys who are now in the prime of their athletic careers who also happen to be leading the final four teams vying for the NBA Championship.
Of the four, Tim Duncan has the least to gain by winning the 2008 NBA title. He has a closet full of hardware - four Championship rings, two MVP awards, three Finals MVP awards and an Olympic gold medal - and is generally regarded as the greatest power forward to ever play in the NBA. For him to win a title this year would only add back-to-back Championships to his résumé which is a feat that, while impressive, won't amount to much in terms of understanding or defining his career.
Duncan was one of the few players in the NBA who came into the draft with real fanfare and expectations. He was a consensus number one pick in 1997 and, by virtue of an injury to David Robinson that torpedoed San Antonio's 1996-1997 season, he gave the Spurs a second franchise big man without them ever having to tank and rebuild. By his sophomore season in the NBA Duncan was a Champion and his upward trajectory was launched, as he was on his way to four titles in the next nine years.
But Duncan's impact on the NBA culture remained somewhat dormant. Even as he was demonstrating on an annual basis the value of sound fundamentals and a traditional post game, he was never in discussion as the league's best player nor was he ever considered a trendsetter or forbearer for any movement in the NBA. Even in the years that he won the MVP award (2002, 2003) he was awarded mostly on the basis of his winning percentages and inarguable success rate, not so much because he was a unanimous choice as the greatest player in the NBA during those two years. No one debated that he was deserving of the award (because he was) but much like Ben Wallace winning four Defensive Player of the Year awards, he seemed more like a default choice rather than an obvious one.
And that is the cross that Duncan has had to bear for his entire career. For all that he has accomplished as an individual and as a teammate - and that is more than any of the four players under discussion - he's never received the attention he deserves because he's a throwback player in a forward-thinking league. In many ways he represented the direction and style of play that the league and its fans were trying to distance themselves from, regardless of how effective it was for a ten-year-and-running span. He played a slow and methodical game, often with severe efficiency, when everyone else wanted to shoot forty times per game and go one-on-one every possession. He's the kind of player that most NBA fans acknowledge as one of the all-time greats, but they do so in passing. He's mentioned out of responsibility rather than out of reverence. People will worship at the feet of Kobe and Garnett, but they'll merely nod their heads at the temple of Duncan.
However, his impact on the game and on the league runs far deeper than most people seem to think. He and his style of play reminded a great many in the NBA what the value of a traditional approach to winning could offer. In the wake of the superhuman Michael Jordan-era and his six runs to the title, the league needed to be reminded that that kind of lightning-in-a-bottle comes along far to rarely to build a team around. Instead Duncan reminded people that the way teams used to win titles was with defense, post play and controlling the tempo of the game. While these are things that the great Bulls team also excelled at, having the greatest player of all time on your team sort of puts the attention to the little things on the backburner. When a team faces the Spurs, though, they play the Spurs' way. And the Spurs' way of playing has been exemplified in the play of Duncan; smart, controlled and deadly. He's as competitive as any Iverson or O'Neal, but he hides it behind the knowledge that and his teammates are, more often than not, simply better at playing forty-eight minutes of basketball than their opponents…and he's got the hardware to back that thinking up. His - and thus the Spurs' - mindset was not only clearly evident in the construction (and success) of the modern Pistons franchise, but also in the architecture of the Cavs, Bulls and Celtics teams who stress defense and teamwork before any individual accolades. It may not be the most fan-friendly approach to team-building, but its success rate is nothing to laugh at. So while Duncan may not have had quite as obvious an impact as some of the other players of his time, his impact runs deeply through the league, nonetheless.
The problem is that players don't want to be like Tim Duncan these days; they want to be Kevin Garnett. So in that way Duncan could be considered the last of a dying breed of big men, the last relic of a time when big men played as much with their brains as they did with their athleticism in the name of victories. If Kevin Garnett was the re-definition of what was possible, especially statistically, at the power forward spot, Duncan was the previous definition. He was the player more interested in playing with his head than his hops. It probably prevented him from being a far more popular player (although nine consecutive starting nods to the All-Star team suggest he was hardly ignored by fans) but when push comes to shove I think that many early 00's stars would trade-in their endorsements and his All-Star nods if it meant they could have the kind of résumé that Duncan gets to take with him when he retires.
The bottom line is that while Duncan may never have graced the cover of as many magazines as Kobe or Garnett, he nonetheless impacted the league with his insistence on winning and winning often. For some players being in the NBA is about style and presentation, refusing to change their game that they see as their identity. Duncan, however, molded his game to give himself the best shot at winning. He was talented enough to play like many of the flashier guys of his time, but he was always more concerned with the flash on his fingers than the flash on SportsCentre. It may not be popular, but last time I checked athletes were measured in rings, and Duncan has simply outpaced any player of his era in that regard. 2008 and beyond will only serve to wind down his storied career, he has nothing left to prove as an NBA legend.