The San Antonio Spurs: A Subtle Tradition
By Jason Luthor
The San Antonio Spurs’ three figureheads of David Robinson, Tim Duncan, and Kawhi Leonard have created a culture that eschews the glamor and flashing lights so prevalent in other parts of the NBA.
San Antonio, Texas. Located in the southern hill country and known as one of the “biggest small cities” in the country, San Antonio’s rapid growth has not translated to the big city reputation of places like New York or Los Angeles.
It’s a family city, not a Hollywood city. It’s the type of city people go to for work, but that doesn’t have the tech sector pull of nearby Austin, let alone distant Silicon Valley. Despite being the seventh largest city in the country with over a million people living in its borders, it has one of the smallest media markets of any major city in the U.S.
It seems strangely appropriate that this would be the city where players like David Robinson, Tim Duncan and Kawhi Leonard would come to call home. It’s a city whose team, the San Antonio Spurs, is led by a coach who tells players to get over themselves and who seems to hate having to do interviews.
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His star players are the same way. Tim Duncan’s first few years as a player were marked by his reluctance to speak with the media, and Kawhi Leonard seems to have taken up that tradition. Leonard’s teammates have jokingly said they don’t even know what he sounds like.
It’s an exaggeration, but it speaks to something of the character of the city and its team: It’s short on flash, but big on results. It’s a tradition that’s been carried on by its star players for close to three decades now, since David Robinson first suited up.
This isn’t to say that Robinson’s game wasn’t flashy; that would be completely wrong. Robinson was a phenomenon in his day, a seven-foot center who could run the court like a guard. His reflexes were incredible for a man his size, and in today’s league, with the pace getting ever quicker thanks to teams like the Golden State Warriors, he’d be the sort of center every team in the league would be chasing after.
To put Robinson’s performances in perspective, this is a man who recorded not triple=doubles, but quadruple doubles. In 1994, he passed up Shaquille O’Neal for the scoring title by dropping 71 points on an enviable 26-of-41 shooting, including 18-of-25 free throws. That same night, he grabbed 10 rebounds, dished out five assists, and blocked two shots.
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How many other big men do you know who’ve dropped more than 70 points in a single game? Robinson’s performance sits in the pantheon of NBA greats who scored more than 70 points, and it’s an exclusive club. Only Wilt Chamberlain, Elgin Baylor, David Thompson and Kobe Bryant have done the same (amazingly, Wilt did it five times).
Yet what always made Robinson stand out was his commitment to life outside the basketball court. It was the same trait that made him the center of criticism from fellow NBA players, like fiery Dennis Rodman, and made the press question Robinson’s heart.
Here was a man who’d come from a military background, spent time at the opera, was a known churchgoer, and loved his family. He famously questioned why Michael Jordan came out of retirement. In Robinson’s mind, Jordan’s accomplishments should have been enough to keep Michael at home with his family.
That was always the strange, quirky nature of The Admiral. As good as he was, he wasn’t about the glamour about the NBA, and as much as he loved to play, his commitment to improving society came first. It’s the kind of odd legacy that was left to Tim Duncan.
Duncan, never the outright athlete that Robinson was, still managed to be dominant through a repertoire of post moves that remains almost unsurpassed to this day. He still wears his nickname, The Big Fundamental, as a reminder that his championships came on the back of some of the most solid footwork and back-to-the-basket play that this league has ever seen.
But Duncan, like Robinson, wasn’t a glamor player. He wasn’t in it for the flash, the shoe deals or to get put on film. Robinson may have been more of a church man, but Duncan was equally opposed to the flashy culture and bright lights of the NBA.
While Shaq made kid movies like Kazaam, Tim Duncan made corny, almost self-parody commercials for local grocery stores. Where Robinson was comfortable in front of a camera, Duncan took the disdain for the media to a new level. During his first few years in the league, getting an interview with Tim was like hunting for Bigfoot.
They were helped along by famous curmudgeon, Gregg Popovich, who helped build the insular culture of the Spurs. While privately he helped Tim to be an outspoken leader on his own team and to take the place of Robinson, he never felt any obligation to the media.
When the NBA instituted coach interviews after commercial breaks, Pop famously snarled about the idea. To this day, reporters fear having to hold interviews with him before the start of a quarter, and on-air broadcasters openly count the number of words he says before leaving the microphone behind.
During his first few years in the league, getting an interview with Tim was like hunting for Bigfoot.
Times are changing again, but the character of the Spurs, for now, seems intact. Tim Duncan’s final year, after19 seasons playing in the NBA, may finally be upon us. If it is his last year, he’ll retire three years older than Robinson did in 2003. At 40 years old, you can’t blame the Big Fundamental for finally calling it quits. Not that he has anything to be ashamed of.
During the course of his career, he was a double-double machine, came two blocks short of the first triple-double in NBA Finals history, became a Finals and regular season MVP, and amassed more hardware than most players dream possible. He just did it while keeping to himself and focusing on his family. In fact, one of the most endearing pictures of his last championship in 2014 isn’t of him holding the hardware, but of him holding his children.
If it is his final year, he seems to have left the subtle legacy of the Spurs in good hands. Kawhi Leonard, who Popovich declared the future of the team a few years ago, is following a different trail of success with the Spurs but managing to do it just as quietly.
Unlike Robinson and Duncan, Leonard wasn’t a No. 1 draft pick. He was a well-regarded player in college, but never projected to be a Finals MVP. Yet even with more tempered expectations, Kawhi’s gone on to be Defensive Player of the Year, the NBA Finals MVP, and the runner-up in the regular season MVP Award.
His improvement as a player has been nothing short of jaw dropping, with his improvement from the three-point line a stunning increase over last year. His skills at the pivot have become Michael Jordan-esque, allowing him to dictate the flow of the game.
On a team with future NBA Hall of Famers and a current NBA All Star in LaMarcus Aldridge, Leonard’s still the best player on the team and one of the best in the league. He’s just doing it the same way that Robinson and Duncan did it.
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He’s doing it without many words, especially for the press. He’s collecting NBA hardware while avoiding the commercials and movie deals. While the bright lights of bigger cities might lure other players, Kawhi’s made it clear that he prefers the quiet restraint of South Texas. In every way, he’s a perfect fit for the San Antonio Spurs, a fitting heir to their subtle tradition. All that’s left is for him to lead them to a championship.