On Humility, Security, and Generosity (The Unexpected Legacy of Tim Duncan)

Basketball season is back! Our family is a basketball family and the fall brings the return of the NBA. We love the characters and the flow. We love the halftime shows (Red Panda! Perch!). We love the different uniforms and courts and shoes.

Basketball is a particularly showy sport. The athletes wear no helmets or any other gear that obscures them from view. The feats of athleticism are jaw-dropping. And there is an accepting practice of peacocking imbued in the whole enterprise. In the NBA, trash talk is perfectly acceptable (even friendly) behavior.

And, every year, as basketball returns, I think of the same thing: I miss Tim Duncan.

My favorite basketball player ever is Tim Duncan. In a sport known for flash and pizzaz, he might be the least exciting person in the history of the NBA. His reputation for being incredible is only exceeded by his reputation for being incredibly boring.

He prized fundamentals over flash - Shaq nicknamed him “The Big Fundamental.” After winning his first NBA championship in New York City (a pretty good city for a wild after party), he famously hustled back to the team plane so he could…

(You won’t believe it.)

(No, really, you will never guess.)

…join in a Spurs team LAN party (the 1999 version of super-nerdy online gaming).

Don’t just take it from me.

Tim Duncan’s Hall of Fame coach, Gregg Popovich, had this to say about him:

He's been true to himself. I read an article yesterday…by Jason Gay of the Wall Street Journal. He pretty much got it right on the head. I don't know how much basketball he watches or who he consulted for the article, but he was right on the money as far as Timmy's class and humility and consistency over time.

You don't see Timmy beating his chest as if he was the first human being to hug the basketball, as a lot of people do these days. He's not pointing to the sky. He's not glamming to the cameras. He just plays, and we've seen it for so long it's become almost mundane. But it's so special that is has to be remembered.

Jason Gay…said he 'hid in plain sight' better than anyone he'd ever seen. And it's true.

Then, in a huge contrast to the modern mega-star who is a universe unto himself and beyond criticism of any sort, Popovich credited all of the Spurs team success (five championships in total) to Duncan’s famous willingness to be coached.

His willingness to allow me and my staff to coach him, and coach him critically, 'You did well. You did poorly. Here's the deal.' That allowed for a lot of success because that set the tone for every other player that's ever come through that door. Because when somebody like him accepts and wants direction and coaching, and responds to it so well, it makes it very difficult for anybody else to go in a different direction.

Tim Duncan was the model for humility, a leader who never gave speeches and didn’t want the spotlight. He made others better, willingly accepted criticism when it came, and left an indelible mark on all he came across.

Even with all of that being said, no greater story epitomizes Tim Duncan than the one told by NBA veteran Etan Thomas.

(Had it not showed up on an actual NBA player’s Facebook page, I would have never believed it.)

QUOTE: Here is my Tim Duncan story

So we're playing the Spurs and I get the ball on the post. I inside pivot and sweep to the middle for my jump hook and he blocks it. So as we are running down the court he says to me "that was a good move but you have to get more into my body so you can either draw the foul or I can't block it". So I didn't know if he was talking noise or what so just kind of looked at him confused and said ok. Then, a few plays later I did it again got more into his body and he couldn't block it. I missed the shot and he looked at me and said much better and kept playing lol. I remember calling my boy Zee Chilton and telling him this story lol Tim Duncan is honestly one of the nicest guys in the NBA and the best power forward ever in NBA history. Respect

Imagine an environment more competitive than you’ve ever experienced. Flexing and prancing. Shoving and glaring. And then the best player on the court, your opponent, has a quiet conversation with you that includes advice on how to better win your matchup. Against him.

Etan Thomas was so confounded by this scenario that he wondered if it was Tim Duncan’s version of dorky trash talk. Nope.

As it turns out, Duncan was just coaching him up. Giving some helpful pointers. It’s not only a wildly humble thing to do, but a weirdly generous thing to do.

And here’s the thing about that - generosity is always downstream from security. We give because we are secure, whether it’s money to a charity or a cup of sugar to a neighbor. Generosity springs from a knowledge that we’re ok and going to be ok.

Tim Duncan, in his humility, was radically secure. Like Popovich said, he’s been true to himself. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He didn’t need to tear others down to build himself up. He was just the best version of himself. And that freed him up to be weird, to offer friendly advice to opponents. To play with determination and joy but also with a cooperative camaraderie completely unique to him.

So basketball is back. And, just like every other year, I miss Tim Duncan.

Perhaps this year, I’ll grow a bit by telling this story to you. Maybe I’ll remember to keep chasing humility. And maybe I’ll dig a little deeper into the source of true security. And, if I can root in that security, perhaps I’ll learn to be just a little more generous as a result.

— KB