Kevin Durant cannot possibly, as commonly portrayed, be as great a guy as he is a player, right?
“He’s actually better!” Matt Tumbleson countered when posed the impious question while the Thunder’s director of communications and I watched Daddy Long Legs warm up on the Staples Center court before the end of the Lakers’ crucifixion.
As Exhibit A, Tumbleson told me something truly unbelievable that happened following the All-Star Game in Orlando, in which Durant was voted MVP, 24 hours after finishing first in the Long Distance Shootout.
“The demand for Kevin throughout the weekend was constant, but after winning MVP things got really intense,” he said. “Everyone wanted a piece of his time and he handled it all smoothly with a smile.”
So, long after the building had emptied out and only slow-filing writers like myself were still in front of their computers, Durant finally was free to join family and friends, and Tumbleson was off duty to join his former Spurs’ boss, Tom James, for a nightcap or two.
“About 45 minutes later, I got a call from Durant,” Tumbleson recounted.
No doubt, a “need play” was about to be run.
“Kevin said he wanted to thank me for spending so much extra time with him and that he really appreciated it.”
What would you think if you heard that (tall?) tale from a person paid to pump up players?
Naturally, I believed it. That’s because there’s an epidemic of etiquettes sweeping the NBA.
* In late March, I did a short postgame interview with North Babylon’s Danny Green, chosen No. 46 by the Cavaliers in 2009 (115 minutes in 20 games) and ultimately waived. The next season, after a brief tryout, Gregg Popovich cut him, yet he rejoined the team two weeks later. And here he is starting for the Western Conference champs, contributing tangibly and intangibly in a multitude of areas.
I understood Green, who won more games (123; the 2009 NCAA championship, too) at UNC than any Tar Heel before him, caught a break when Manu Ginobili got hurt early in the season. But how did he re-position himself to get that break after being let go? That’s what I wanted to know.
Simple. Yeah, right!
“I called up Pop and asked for another chance,” Green explained. “I promised I’d do anything he asked me to do and swore I’d work during the offseason on improving whatever he told to work on.”
Popovich liked Green’s approach and learned to like his style. Once Green had his coach’s confidence he began to develop his own. Thus the coach allowed mistakes to be made and the player was allowed to relax and grow without fear of instant or dire consequences.
Before leaving the Spurs’ locker room that evening, I stopped to speak with James, the team’s publicist for 15 years. He said a lot of good things about Green but one stood out.
“Earlier this season, out of the blue, Danny came over and said, ‘I just want you to know that you really do a good job.’ In all my years, that’s a first coming from a player.”
* I never got close to Orlando Woolridge during his 13 NBA seasons, two with the Nets— one mostly on suspension for substance abuse — in the late 1980s. That’s mainly because I didn’t want to have to cover his tormented soul.
Despite incessant preaching and teaching, the majority of us refuse to learn from the mistakes of others. We must make our own and pray our addictions don’t kill us. The unlucky often pay by dying young, like Woolridge, who passed at 52 from a diseased heart.
Still, from what I’ve read about the accomplishments of his five children, as well as a sister whose medical training he financed, Woolridge was an influential leading man in their lives.
In the end, hopefully Willis Reed’s cousin was able to cut himself some slack. In the end, spent with his parents at their home in Mansfield, La., hopefully Woolridge realized his career and life were not a waste, but, in fact, a success.