Duncan vs. the Highlight Factory
When looking back at Tim Duncan’s 19 seasons in the NBA, it’s nearly impossible to see the trees for the forest. Unlike Kobe, he isn’t a man of moments. The tapestry of Duncan’s career is dense and tightly woven. His accomplishments are as unimpeachable as his personage is blank, which has made him a modern tableau for concepts like success and greatness in their most distilled form. If the theatrical pursuit of something other than just winning means nothing to you, Duncan is your NBA patron saint.
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Duncan vs. the Press Conference
Duncan will be remembered as being great at everything but delivering pithy quotes. When it came to press conferences, he had tremendous downside: modesty. A boring demeanor. A resistance to ginning up bulletin-board material for the other team. These are the traits that writers say they want out of great players. Any writer who’s honest wants exactly the opposite: immodesty, flamboyance, provocation.
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Duncan vs. Dirk
Do you know what it’s like to have a perfect mortal enemy? It sucks. The Spurs are literally without sin. Spurs fans talk shit to me and I don’t have a single counter except for maybe Manu’s bald spot. The Spurs are the single classiest organization of the four major sports.
And of course Duncan has led the charge. His selfless nature and respect for other players makes it impossible to hate him (which always made me hate him). Duncan is so nice that his in-state rival, Dirk, always said he would have enjoyed playing with Tim. Apologies to the kids on my lawn, but you shouldn’t say that about a guy against whom you’ve played 33 playoff games. That’s Duncan, though. He beat the hell out of you every time. Then he helped you up as everyone cheered along. Tim Duncan was the worst … because he was the best.