For years, when San Antonio Spurs manager Gregg Popovich was asked about the Spurs’ vaunted organizational culture or their enduring role as Western Conference contenders, he diverted all credit to Hall of Famer Tim Duncan.
“Before you start handing out cheers and accolades to anyone else in this organization for all that has been accomplished, remember that it all starts and goes with Timmy,” Popovich said several years ago. “Not just him [retires], I will be 10 steps behind. Because I’m not stupid. “
The Spurs have just fallen 10 paces 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 on Thursday with victories in Phoenix and Memphis.
Over the course of these 22 seasons, Spurs have won 1,260 regular-season games, the best in the NBA, 211 more than Dallas’ number 2. To contextualize San Antonio’s dominance, the difference between the Spurs and Dallas is greater than the gap between Dallas and No. 21 Philadelphia. The Spurs maintained that superiority for another season after Duncan’s retirement when they won 61 games behind Kawhi Leonard and marched to the Western Conference Finals. This kind of excellence on such a prolonged stretch is simply unmatched.
If the constant culture in San Antonio was the result of Duncan’s presence; the early adoption of the innovative movements in team building, health, scouting and style of play that have come to define the current NBA; or the leadership of Popovich and GM RC Buford, the Spurs supported him. During those 22 seasons, they mined international late-draft gems like Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker, and scoured the bargain bin for underutilized players including Danny Green and Patty Mills.
Spurs have operated on the understanding that whatever flaw a player has, San Antonio is a place where he can maximize his strengths and mitigate his weaknesses. This has been the primary yet simple attribute of the Spurs organization: it puts people in a position to be successful.
As Leonard said in 2015, “By coming to a team like Spurs, you will automatically learn to play the right way.”
If the Spurs aspired to perfection, their performance in the 2014 NBA Finals, when they beat LeBron James’ Miami Heat in five games, was almost that. For two weeks, Spurs hosted a show of movement, timing and precision. The choreographic routines – the way the players floated through space – were dazzling. They made decisions with pace, but they never compromised their patience. The ball exploded in mid-court and always seemed to land with the right guy for the right shot.
Leonard was to be Duncan’s heir as the personification of the Spurs ethics, a belief that basketball is about work – “beating the rock,” as the San Antonio maxim goes – a selfless commitment to trial and an allergy to glitz of the NBA star system. It’s not like you should be depriving yourself of the good life – no one can accuse Spurs brass of being teetotal – 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 or whatever it may be, and luckily there are enough of those guys all over the league. I chose not to. “.
The NBA could have made Spurs a focal point of its marketing campaigns and national broadcasts during their reign, but what would have been the point? The league is about selling the showmanship and athleticism of its stars, not the discipline and devotion of its teams. Plus, Spurs never cared that much. While they are committed ambassadors to the community in central Texas, their truculence with the media and disregard for bravado have become hallmarks of their identity. For Popovich’s point, they embodied Duncan’s values, and 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 pitcher. But trust between Leonard and the Spurs eroded to the point of no return in 2018 due to Leonard’s quad injury, and Leonard requested a swap from San Antonio in June.
In the wake of Leonard’s departure, Spurs were left in 2018 with a core of LaMarcus Aldridge, who signed in 2015, DeMar DeRozan and Rudy Gay. Manu Ginobili, whose emotional IQ, self-realization and family love for the Spurs were alongside Duncan, had retired, while Tony Parker had moved on to Charlotte. Despite Patty Mills, the last vestiges of Spurs glory had receded.
Aldridge, DeRozan and Gay have their own individual strengths, but they are not Spurs prototypes. Aldridge likes to perch on the left block, while DeRozan is third in the league in solitary confinement, and most of Gay’s action comes in post and iso. In classic Spurs form, each of these markers generated a more efficient volume of hits than previous stops, but in style and substance, Spurs suddenly turned modern dance into heavy production.
Spurs have still managed to win nearly 50 games in each of the two seasons prior to this one, and still employ many of the same organizational philosophies. In the bubble, they’ve gotten solid production from their youngsters, including Dejounte Murray, Derrick White and Keldon Johnson – a trio of draft picks number 29 (of course) – who will likely be part of their next chapter.
Yet Spurs have become more like an everyday NBA team, trudging through the mud like any other small-market franchise. There is absolutely no shame in the twilight, especially after five championships. Even a series of tigers eventually die and the Spurs’ longevity is almost incomprehensible. But Popovich was not falsely modest: without an exceptional luminary like Duncan, the exceptional has a way of fading.
Somewhere along the way, while the Spurs were winning titles and reinventing the way NBA organizations govern themselves, the rest of the league took notice. Their coaching and management tree has branched out into every corner of the NBA. It has taken root in Milwaukee, Brooklyn, Golden State, Oklahoma City, Philadelphia, Utah, Charlotte, Memphis and Phoenix. Even where there may not be a direct descendant, many best practices within NBA organizations can be traced back to San Antonio.
In this respect, the Spurs are victims not only of Father Time, but of their own success. They no longer look like themselves, but many of the NBA teams moving into the postseason look more like vintage Spurs than ever.
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