Easy to Love
Coach said simply, “These guys are uncommon.” Multi-colored confetti was still floating as a sea of cameras clicked on the boys standing just behind the logo in the center of the floor. The sweaty, happy hoopers looked like a band of brothers who had just run the court on the asphalt at the corner of 13th and Shartel. That they were and that they weren’t. Therein lies the beautifully juxtaposed magic of the Oklahoma City Thunder, the NBA’s newly crowned Western Conference Champs.
Over eighteen-thousand people showed up early (just like always), donned the T-shirts waiting for them on their chairbacks (just like always), and geared up (just like always) to do their powerful part. For over two hours, they stood slapping paper noisemakers while chanting in flawless unison led by the cues of their team’s play. “OKC!… OKC!… OKC!….” Minnesota, clearly, was outmanned. As the Thunder defense swarmed and their offense purred, the Grizz stumbled around like they’d been hit by a stun gun. When the final buzzer sounded, the talented visitors limped off into locker-room oblivion as the hometown crowd went wild. Though the Thunder won by over forty, it seemed every fan had stayed.
During the post-game celebration, the loyal blue- and-white-striped arena hushed and erupted intermittently. Like their team, with reverence-tempered guns-a-blazin’, they seem to never forget why they’re there.
Oklahoma City Thunder fans are focused and consistent. Their intent and their exuberance intertwine like strands of DNA. A cheerful lot, they mirror the team that continues to give them so much to cheer about. They rarely boo (unless a frustrated opponent sets an illegal screen on SGA in the final minutes when the victory has been decided and all anyone is waiting for is for the game to end.) Thunder fans are vehement without venom, which is not an easy thing to be. They rarely blame because the players rarely blame. They fire-up for defense because the team fires-up for defense. They love the team because the team loves one another. This is sports at its A+ best.
The architecture of this franchise that has taken the world by storm began almost twenty years ago. Newsflash: significance takes some patience and some time. Built by Clay Bennett, Sam Presti, Mark Daignault (plus the lineage that came before him) and their ocean of others daily doing yeoman’s work, the organization has steadily grown from the inside out. Bennett, a believer when nobody wanted the Kool-Aid even if it was free, continues to lead quietly, textbook style, from the front and then the back and then the front for a minute again, wafting in and out like grown-up hands on-the-ready when a baby learns to pull up and let go. Presti, the NBA’s current Executive of the Year and Bennett’s early nab to be the architect, has proven to be a savant at organizational structure, player acquisition, and the creation of an environment that pulsates with rare air. Enter Daignault, a mastermind, but also the right guy put in the right place at the right time, a coach with a personality fit for both the men he leads and the men he follows. The three are all over everything while in the middle of nothing seemingly all the time.
Together they’ve built a team that is Kipling cool.
The Oklahoma City Thunder roster is young, but they’re not immature. They’re rabid, yet not feral. From one jersey to another, each appears to possess a relentless desire to “be the man” while also being willing to be all-in for the one who is. The guys are humble, yet they’re sure. They’re intense, yet they’re relaxed. They play with freedom inside structure as they sweat contagious joy. It’s hard to watch them and not smile.
Early in the year, the squad formed the habit of surrounding the player being interviewed on the court immediately following games. Towels around necks, arms often around shoulders, chaos sometimes painful for the person in front of the camera with the microphone trying to talk, the team gave the world a glimpse of a team. Clearly, they had inside jokes . . . a common language . . . an invisible rope that bound them. Even during blow-outs, I stayed on or checked back in to see the finish. The post-game fun was do-not-miss TV.
Then pretty soon a strange thing happened. That goofy camaraderie became the thing to do when cameras targeted any star at any level after a game. It happened with other pro teams, it happened with college teams, it happened with high school squads when local outlets rushed the court. Team is a giant magnet. Everybody wants to be part of something like that.
Unfortunately, it’s not easy or simple or common. That’s why Mark Daignault chose that word to describe his guys. As much as every player on every team in every land wants to have what they have, not very many are willing to do and be what it takes to make it happen. Perhaps the after-game antics can be a way for players to back their way down the road that is required traveling to become the kind of person a team like that is built with.
“These guys are uncommon,” their coach said. Because who the people are make up what the team can be.
And what the Oklahoma City Thunder has become is the easiest team in the world to love.