When Kevin Love was in high school, numerous people tended to devalue his accomplishments, probably because he complied with gravity and didn’t quite qualify as a gymnast or a contortionist.
His father, Stan, a 5-year peripheral player for the Bullets, Lakers and ABA Spurs in the early ’70s, always would say, “You can take your guy if you have it figured out, and I will take Kevin … and let’s see where we are at the end of the day.”
That incandescent day has dawned … on the industrial strength of a staggering aptitude, acumen, ferocity and fervor, characteristics only the greats feature.
Love is all that, with payback. Years of being underestimated by talent scouts, his coaches and opponents provoked him to play with a manhole cover on his shoulder, and guaranteed perennial progress.
Not since Bob Pettit, Bob McAdoo and Elgin Baylor, unconscionably always overlooked by the un-conscientious, has a forward erected the kind of flamboyant figures Love is amassing.
Baylor averaged 34.8 points and 19.8 rebounds for the 1960-61 season, 38.3 and 18.8 the next, and 34 and 14.3 before irreparably damaging his knee 48 games into 1962-63. He “plunged” to 26 and 12 the subsequent seven.
Love averaged 20.2 points and a NBA-leading 15.2 rebounds for the Timberwolves last season, his third in the league. His current numbers are 25.8 and 13.8, a superior standard overlapped during a recent four-day, three-victory stretch — 110 points and 43 rebounds, before back spasms sidelined him for Friday’s 105-102 loss to the Lakers.
That statistical outburst, coinciding with the 21-21 Wolves’ promising playoff pursuit — ostensibly devastated by Ricky Rubio’s season-ending torn left ACL — propelled Love into MVP conversation previously concentrated on Kevin Durant, Derrick Rose, Chris Paul, Tony Parker, LeBron James and Dwight Howard.
Except for Kevin McHale, how many other NBA executives believed Love deserved to be drafted as high as No. 5? Or truly felt he owned a limitless upside?
Pat Riley certainly didn’t sense this tsunami coming. In the spring of 2008, the Heat field general worked out Love in West Los Angeles, imploring him to keep the private session on the down low.
Admittedly blown away by what he saw, Padre Riles told Love, “I’m going to figure out a way to draft you.”
The 19-year-old replied, “That’s easy, Mr. Riley, you have the second pick in the draft.”
Instead, the knowing nod went to Michael Beasley, whose juvenile behavior, hopscotch of six high schools, delinquent defense, outlandish auto expenditures and reputation as a joker, a smoker and a midnight toker was well-known and hard-earned.
Had Riley chosen Love, he could have signed LeBron James and Dwyane Wade, then used the leftover cap space to spend on an established center to balance Miami’s roster.
Instead, Love got stuck being coached by Randy Wittman and Kurt Rambis, flanking interim McHale, whom Love really respected; the hiring of Rick Adelman saved his sanity.
Wittman and Rambis weren’t the only coaches who depreciated Love. He still is seething about his experience at UCLA under Ben Howland, three Final Four forays notwithstanding.
There was not one set play for Love his entire freshman season. Not one.
Howland forbade the reigning Long Distance NBA champ to shoot from 3-point range.
Not until Love’s AAU coach and friend DeAnthony Langston, a former overseas pro, urged him to fire from afar did he try.
Langston cautioned Love not to disrespect his coach. At the same time, he encouraged him to play his game.
Howland also ordered Love never to shoot his pet turnaround jumper, under any circumstances. In the 2008 NCAA Tournament, the Bruins were down to DeAndre Jordan’s Texas A&M team until Love drilled the game-winner, a last-second turnaround springer.
In the matchup against Memphis, Howland either refused to consider playing a zone or didn’t think of it. On the car ride to UCLA’s campus, where the Bruins would leave from en route to the Final Four in San Antonio, family friend Bill Feinberg asked Love who was going to guard Derrick Rose, Russell Westbrook or Luc Mbah a Moute?
“Darren Collison,” Love replied.
“I’m waiting for Kevin to crack a smile but that never happened,” Feinberg recounted. “So I ask him again, is it Westbrook or Mbah a Moute. He said, ‘Collison, seriously.’
If that’s the case, UCLA is screwed,” Feinberg harrumphed.
“We are totally screwed!” Love retorted, qualifying it by saying Rose is way too strong and physical for Darren.
At the postseason awards lunch, Howland told the players, if there was one thing he would take to his grave, it’s not starting Westbrook or Mbah a Moute on Rose.
Even Rambis would have figured that out before the fact.
These are the things that drive Love. Going to war for teammates is another.
Last Saturday, he became incensed when Joel Przybilla walked over a prone Rubio and made a disrespectful gesture.
That one move cost the Blazers any chance of overtaking the Wolves. At the time (9:14 left), Portland trailed 90-84. Sufficiently stoked, Love notched five straight points — the technical foul shot, a dunk and a tip — and 13 of Minnesota’s final 32 to finish with 42.
That’s the number he wears on his jersey, the one worn by his favorite player, Connie Hawkins.