“Russell Westbrook is a hoss, OK?â€
So it was once put by a Westbrook fan, to his message board compadres, after a mixed-bag performance not unlike what we saw in Game 4 versus the Spurs.
It seemed a perfect description for a point guard who showed us his brilliance last night (23 points, 12 assists, four rebounds, four steals, one block) as well as his warts (9-24 shooting including 0-4 from three; six turnovers, several coming in critical possessions down the stretch).
But last night, as its been throughout these playoffs, the good outweighed the bad for one main reason: the Thunder are a team that wins by overpowering the competitionâ€"by creating the unmistakable impression that you can’t run with them, you can’t jump with them, and that when you try, the outcome is disastrous to your game plan and morale.
That tone is on keyed by Russell Westbrook, who attacks from the opening tip and doesn’t ever relent. In this, his fourth NBA season, he’s good often, great occasionally, but alwaysâ€"and I mean alwaysâ€"aggressive.
He’s everything the Thunder must be to beat the far more polished Spurs: relentless, indefatigable, unafraid to make mistakes.
In a word, he’s a hoss.
OK?
Coach Scott Brooks will never have to implore Westbrook to bring the nasty. In fact, the challenge, since day one, has been convincing him that nasty isn’t the only way to win. It’s been a largely successful campaign; Westbrook “led†the 2011 playoff field with 78 turnovers, compiled in 17 games spread over three rounds of competition. In 2012, he’s chalked up only 29 in 14 games; that’s a drop in turnover percent from 16.1 to 8.8.
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Fan perception has rewarded this improvement, to a degree. When the Thunder lose, Westbrook typically isn’t the reason but a reasonâ€"that’s at least a promotion on the Whipping Boy Totem Pole; a real, if paltry, concession that the Thunder need Westbrook to play the way he does.
OKC’s offensive power has but two foci in the starting lineup, after all, and expecting a 23-year-old point guard to perfectly balance his passing with his considerable scoring responsibilities is too burdensome an expectation.
Even his detractors can see that, and so they’ve eased up a bit.
But Westbrook deserves more than our grudging tolerance. Much more, in fact.
Fans and analysts alike still craft a fiction wherein Westbrook’s shot attempts and ball dominance cap Kevin Durant’s potential. “You’re playing next to the league scoring leaderâ€"get him the rock!†(Attribution: Every talking head working today). But that’s just the romantic in us talking. The one that wants Durant to take a place in history. The one that desperately wants Durant to be a foil to the no-longer-hated-but-still-unpopular LeBron James.
The one that wants to believes that a shooting-guard-in-point-guard’s-clothing is the only thing standing between Durant and the pantheon of NBA greats.
You want the unromantic truth?
The best of what Durant isâ€"his scoring efficiency, his prowess in the clutchâ€"is owed, in part, to Russell Westbrook.
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And the worst of what Durant isâ€"a superstar talent without superstar moxieâ€"is concealed by Russell Westbrook.
Let’s get one thing clear: Durant’s game is an aesthetic marvel. He scores because he’s too good not to. His release on his shot is too high to be blocked, his first step too long to be corralled.  The only way to stop him is with several defenders, or one born and bred to live in great scorers’ jerseys (enter Stephen Jackson).
But when that happens, when a great defense deploys its best weapons against Durant, he often does the prudent thing; he backs off and lets the play develop until a better option avails itself.
That “option†is typically Westbrook. Which isn’t a problem; Westbrook wants the ball.
Advanced metrics tell us that he isn’t perfect for the role of volume shot-taker. He isn’t a marksmen, or even a dominant finisher at the basket, by the numbers. But what look like limitations to us are abstractions to the man himself, who, in any given play, sees no reason why he can’t be the one to put the ball in the bucket.
Consequently, Kevin Durant can pick his moments, as he’s wont to do. His shot selectivity is the reason he hadn’t had a 50 point-game until February 20th of this year, which makes him an anomaly among elite scores: not since 1998 has an NBA scoring champion gone an entire regular season without scoring 50. The last guy was named Michael Jordan, who at age 35 had begun saving a little in the tank for his final postseason run.
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Durant clearly doesn’t have to worry about his legs. It’s just out of character for the 23-year-old to hoist the field goal attempts necessary to reach those heights. Which is what makes his game beautiful, in a way; he eschews ego and record book laurels to play a more restrained, more efficient game, until the opportunity for heroics materialize in the fourth quarter.
But let’s call his approach what this is: a luxury.
It’s because Westbrook “shoots too much†that Durant is at liberty to play within himself. And it’s because Westbrook asserts himself throughout the game that Duran can wait shine late.
Westbrook, for better or worse, doesn’t have any “wait†in him.
And for a Thunder team not content to wait its turn, it’s Westbrook, not Durant, who fuels their precociousness.
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