I don’t know about you, but I’m pissed off.
As a huge NBA fan, I can’t believe the season just ended with hardly a hint of drama. Everyone knew going in that the Warriors would win it all, and sure enough, they bulldozed their way through the playoffs—16 and freaking 1—en route to a championship.
That mockery of balanced competition is thanks to one person and one person only: Kevin Durant.
When Durant signed with Golden State last summer, he clearly had one thing in mind: winning a championship. At no point did he stop to think that the league’s entertainment value for me—a 47-year-old beverage processing facilities manager in Boise, Idaho—would go way down if he joined such an already historically great team.
Yeah, I get he was almost 28, with years of his prime ticking away, and had only been to one Finals series in his first nine seasons with the Oklahoma City Thunder franchise, in a sport where your amount of championship rings are a primary determinant of your legacy. But his signing with the Warriors made me know who would win the title this year, and I prefer not to know, because then my friends and I can argue with each other about it.
…[Durant’s] signing with the Warriors made me know who would win the title this year, and I prefer not to know…
The only semblance of an argument I got to have was with Dave from accounting, since he’s a Cleveland native. But even he thought the Cavs had no more than an outside chance at toppling the All Star team that is the Warriors.
God forbid Durant could have considered that before making his decision.
And sure, I get that he never seemed to fully gel on or off the court with the Thunder’s other star player, Russell Westbrook. But by leaving Westbrook in the NBA’s smallest market and joining Stephen Curry, Klay Thompson, and Draymond Green in a world-class city, a superteam unlike anything we’ve ever seen was created.
So clearly, Durant and the rest of his selfish new team cared more about winning a championship than my opportunity to watch games from the edge of my basement’s recliner—my preferred position—instead of from a lounged position with my feet elevated.
So are you happy, “KD?” You got your precious little ring, and in the process, left me—a virtually anonymous man you don’t know and will never meet—with a thoroughly unentertaining Finals, playoffs, and season.
Was it worth it?