For years, when San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich was asked about the Spurs’ affirming organizational culture as their continuing place as candidates in the Western Conference, he would turn all credit to Hall of Famer Tim Duncan.
“Before you start giving applause and credit to everyone else in this organization for everything that has been done, remember that it all starts with and goes through Timmy,” Popovich said several years ago. “As soon as he [retires]To, I will be 10 steps behind. Because I’m not stupid. “
The Spurs have fallen just 10 steps behind since Duncan retired in 2016, but for the first time in 22 seasons, the NBA playoffs will begin without them. The Spurs were eliminated Thursday with wins by Phoenix and Memphis.
Over the course of those 22 seasons, the Spurs have won an NBA-best 1,260 games in the regular season – 211 wins over No. 2 Dallas. To put San Antonio’s dominance in context, the gap between the Spurs and Dallas is larger than the gap between Dallas and No. 21 Philadelphia. The Spurs maintained that superiority for one season after Duncan retired when they won 61 games behind Kawhi Leonard and marched to the finals of the Western Conference. This kind of excellence over such a sustained stretch is simply unparalleled.
Or the enduring culture in San Antonio was the result of Duncan’s presence; the early adoption of the innovative moves in team building, health, scouting and playing style that have come to define the current NBA; as the leaders of Popovich and GM RC Buford, the Spurs have maintained it. In those 22 seasons, they have mined international gems badly in the concept like Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker, shaking the trunk for underutilized players including Danny Green and Patty Mills.
The Spurs have dealt with the notion that whatever shortcomings a player has, San Antonio is a place where he can maximize his strengths and reduce his weaknesses. That has been the heuristic but simple attribute of the Spurs organization: It puts people in a position to succeed.
As Leonard said in 2015: “Coming to a team like the Spurs, you will automatically learn how to play the game the right way.”
If the Spurs were looking for perfection, their performance in the 2014 NBA Finals, when they beat LeBron James’ Miami Heat in five games, was about that. For two weeks, the Spurs held an exhibition of movement, timing and precision. The choreographed routines – the way players drove the space – were brilliant. They made decisions with pace, and yet their patience never compromised. The ball bounced around the half court, and always seemed to land with the right man for the good shot.
Leonard was Duncan’s heir apparent as the personification of the Spurs’ ethics, a belief that basketball is about work – “beating the clock,” as the maximum goes in San Antonio – a selfless promise to process , and an allergy to the pageantry of the NBA star system. It’s not that you should deprive yourself of the good life – no one can accuse the brass of the Spurs of being abstemious – but that good life should be a celebration of team and culture.
Duncan told me in 2013, “People choose to try to be bigger than the game, to make themselves an individual brand as much as they can, and fortunately there are plenty of those guys around the league. I do not choose in front of.”
The NBA could have made the Spurs a focal point of their marketing campaigns and national broadcasts during their tenure, but what would have been the point? The competition is in the business of selling the showmanship and athleticism of their stars, not the discipline and piety of their teams. Besides, the Spurs have never cared so much. While they are dedicated ambassadors for the community in central Texas, their truculence with the media and lack of interest in swagger characterized their identity. After Popovich’s point, they embodied Duncan’s values, and it served them well for nearly a quarter of a century.
Leonard shares some of the Spurs’ values. Those in Toronto and Los Angeles describe him as a man dedicated to the preparation and routine that a championship requires, and he is not a natural pitchman. But trust between Leonard and the Spurs eroded to the point of no return in 2018 over Leonard’s quad injury, and Leonard demanded a deal from San Antonio in June.
In the wake of Leonard’s departure, the Spurs were left in 2018 with a core of LaMarcus Aldridge, who they signed in 2015, DeMar DeRozan and Rudy Gay. Manu Ginobili, whose emotional IQ, self-persecution and family love for the Spurs stood alongside Duncan’s, was retired, while Tony Parker transitioned to Charlotte. Despite Patty Mills, the last remnants of the Spurs shine were back.
Aldridge, DeRozan and Gay have their individual strengths, but they are not prototypical Spurs. Aldridge likes to roast on the left block, while DeRozan finished third in isolation in the league, and the majority of Gay’s action comes in the post and in iso. In classic Spurs form, each of these scorers generated a more efficient volume of shots than he had in previous stops, yet in style and substance, the Spurs had suddenly transformed modern dance into heavy production.
The Spurs still managed to win nearly 50 games in each of the two seasons for this one, and still use many of the same organizational philosophies. In the bubble, they have taken solid production from their boys, including Dejounte Murray, Derrick White and Keldon Johnson – a trio of no. 29 concept picks (natural) – which are likely to be part of their next chapter.
Yet, the Spurs came to appear more like a daily NBA team, slogging through the muck like any other franchise in the small markets. There is absolutely no shame in twilight, especially after five championships. Even a string of tigers eventually die out, and the Spurs’ longing is almost incomprehensible. But Popovich was not falsely modest – without an exceptional luminaire like Duncan, exceptionalism has a way of disappearing.
Somewhere along the way while the Spurs won titles and figured out how NBA organizations govern themselves, the rest of the league took note. Their coaching and manager tree branches out to every corner of the NBA. It has roots in Milwaukee, Brooklyn, Golden State, Oklahoma City, Philadelphia, Utah, Charlotte, Memphis and Phoenix. Even where there may not be immediate offspring, many best practices within NBA organizations can be traced back to San Antonio.
In that respect, the Spurs are victims not only of Father Time, but of their own success. They no longer look like their old selves, but many of the NBA teams advancing to the postseason look more like the Vintage Spurs than ever.
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