What if this is the last season for Tim Duncan and Kevin Garnett?
It hit me the other day, writing about how an aging player was said by his coach to be the starter on opening night, and how it was as symbolic as it was practical. A common story, nothing surprising, really.
But it dawned on me.
This is, in all likelihood, Kevin Garnett's last season.
It's something that will either hit you as completely expected ("He's not dead yet?!" the Twitter jokes cry) or as a horrifying sign of your own mortality. Garnett has been a pillar of this league for 19 seasons. After this year, provided he plays it out, he will have played in the NBA for over half of his entire life. He has given most of his life to this sport, in hours in the gym, in locker rooms and buses and planes, in rebounds and blocked shots and this is starting to sound like that song from "Rent" which by the way, is only slightly younger than KG's career.
Garnett has been everything in this league a player can be. A phenom prospect, a green rookie, a game-changing young player, an MVP, a struggling superstar, the redeemed legend for a historic franchise, an NBA champion, an all-world defender, an unstoppable scoring forward, an iconic figure and now, a fading star.
And now, the end comes as he limps toward the finish, having lost friends and teammates, having seen the best and worst this league has to offer, never fraternizing with the media, never allowing shots after the whistle, never giving up an inch he could prevent when on the floor. He's part of a Brooklyn team that won't compete for a title, that watched his partner in crime since 2008, Paul Pierce, walk down the coast to D.C to join a younger, more spry sub-contender. Brooklyn could be good; that fact won't be attached to Garnett. He has his moments, but Mirza Teletovic and Brook Lopez will likely have bigger impacts for the Nets this year. Mirza Teletovic and Brook Lopez, more than the Big Ticket.
It wasn't even clear if Garnett was going to return for this season. He never officially announced it, and as far as the Nets have said, he never actually told them "I'm coming back." He just didn't say anything otherwise, and then started showing up at the facility to work out. In a way, until opening night, he's Schrodinger's Garnett, both retired and under contract. But he's going to return, it's been made clear, under the assumption that he doesn't need to announce he will.
But no matter how unfortunate this end may be for Garnett, as it is for so many legends in their twilight, it doesn't take away from his impact on the game, what he's meant for the sport, its fans, for his teammates. His legacy is unquestionable. He's the greatest power forward of his generation ...
Except for that other guy.
Just 1,800 miles to the southwest, Tim Duncan, the eternal clock of basketball time prepares to trudge unyieldingly toward another run. Duncan's future is in more question than Garnett's. Garnett could sign another contract after this one, but it would seem to stand in the face of how much he's considered walking away the last three years. Duncan, on the other hand, always seems ready to walk away at a moment's notice. Part of you wonders every pregame if he's just going to up and decide before some home contest vs. Milwaukee to call it, just stand up, say "Thanks guys, but I'm out" and head home in his sweatpants, never to be heard from again.
Duncan isn't fighting for anything. He's not Kobe Bryant chasing Michael Jordan's six rings, or trying to prove himself vs. Shaquille O'Neal (though that debate is just about wrapped up). Duncan's here because he can, this is what he does, and because on some level, beneath the media circus, the schedule grind, and the nonsense of fame, he legitimately loves the game. He and Garnett have always stood as counterpoints, two behemoths casting shadows over the league from polar coasts. Garnett, the fierce, screaming, lunatic uber-forward, able to run point guard, dribble the floor, pass, blocks shots, rebound, shut down the pick and roll, and the guy constantly talking, barking intimidating opponents with his maniacal ferocity. Duncan, the robotic clockwork device rotating through turnaround bank shot after turnaround bank shot. Never bothered, never shaken, never ruptured from his gaze toward success. He was never as obsessive as Garnett or Bryant about winning. He was also more consistent in having it.
In many ways, Garnett vs. Duncan is just as LeBron vs. Kobe, Robinson vs. Olajuwon, Wilt vs. Russell. It's the NBA version of the Beatles vs. Elvis from the deleted scenes of Pulp Fiction. You can like one, and you can like the other, but you can't like them both equally. They represent different personalities and approaches. But both will leave the game not to be forgotten by anyone who saw them play.
This could be the last year for both of these legendary forwards. It could be the last year the two face off in what has always been a cold war rivalry. There are urban legends about their feelings and comments toward one another (including a story that if you google their names together will make you audibly 'welp'), but nothing concrete. Garnett hasn't commented on Duncan, nor Duncan on KG in length. They are bitter rivals, who never faced each other on a consistent basis in the playoffs and whose two careers don't stack up on a championship level.
Garnett's in the final year of his contract, Duncan in his. Garnett hasn't made any flat declarations about this being his last, nor has Duncan. (Duncan's teammates have hinted he may play for a few more years, however, and if the Spurs were to repeat for the first time in their history, why would he walk away?) But it's obviously harder and harder for them, and all players reach a point where the fire is out, the body is tired and the travel, media and lifestyle is no longer worth whatever the money and game provide them.
If it's the final year for one or both, fans should cherish it. It's impossible to track in the moment, but each game should be savored. There won't be any farewell tour like it was for Jeter; neither are built that way. But there will not be another Tim Duncan, there will not be another Kevin Garnett. There are always other great players, always other huge personalities and phenomenal games. But what these two have represented in the NBA is worth cherishing, even as the lights begin to dim on the stage after so long in the spotlight.
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