The San Antonio Spurs — not Tim Duncan — announced that Tim Duncan would be retiring Monday morning. This seemed entirely appropriate when it came to Duncan, maneuvering about his business in a quiet, yet professional fashion.
That’s what Duncan did his entire career. Duncan was a winner, Duncan was consistent, and Duncan was professional. He was all about basketball, not flashy with his game or with his words in the slightest, and never tried to be anything more than simply who he was.
Outside of a lockout-shortened season in 1998-99 in which the Spurs won the NBA championship, San Antonio never won fewer than 50 games in a season, which includes the 2011-12 campaign, also shortened by a lockout. The Spurs won 71 percent of their games during Duncan’s 19-year tenure, basically an unstoppable machine. Which was one way many people would describe him to you today.
Duncan had perhaps the most fundamentally sound game of any player during his 19-year NBA career. It was easy to make fun of, and was often described as an old-fashioned (and robotic) game. But from the first time he stepped onto the floor, up until the end, it worked damn well. When Duncan would get in his spots, you knew the opposition just didn’t have a chance against him, especially if he was putting one off the glass. That was what made him like a machine. If you were to bring a textbook power forward to life, you had Tim Duncan.
His winning attitude, and the culture he helped breed in San Antonio was machine-like as well. The consistency over his 19 seasons helped the Spurs build their reputation as one of — if not the — best-run franchises not just in the NBA, but in all of sports. The organization had often been a contender since joining the NBA in 1976, but Duncan helped turn it into a championship franchise after being drafted No. 1 overall in 1997 out of Wake Forest.
The Spurs now hold the fourth-most titles in league history with five, all on Duncan’s watch. He leaves them considerably greater than what they were when he arrived in San Antonio, and both his impact and the legacy he’s leaving are rare.
Duncan was never one to boast, talk smack in the media, or bring any attention upon himself. You never heard any other players ripping Duncan or vice-versa. He was the guy that your parents wanted you to be as a player, one who played his tail off, didn’t say a word, and let his peers describe how great he is for his accomplishments on the floor.
It was more than obvious that Duncan was passionate about the game of basketball because of how he conducted himself and how hard he worked. He never bothered to be concerned with the fame or flash that came with being a professional athlete in the NBA. He didn’t appear in a bunch of commercials, music videos or movies. The man just wanted to play basketball, and he did it unbelievably well for such a long time.
This might have become even more evident after the NBA had a wardrobe evolution, where a part of the league’s atmosphere and perception was based on the attire worn before the game and the attention it brings. But Duncan? He stayed the same guy, wearing the same old baggy shirts and pants, because Tim Duncan was going to be Tim Duncan, and nothing less than that.
Because of all of these things, most kids didn’t idolize Tim Duncan growing up. During his 19-year career, he won a pair of NBA MVP awards, yet was never the player that kids outside of San Antonio wanted to pattern themselves after. He didn’t have the same profile with fans and aspiring stars as Michael Jordan, Shaquille O’Neal, Allen Iverson, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and many others with flashy games and notable personalities.
Despite this, you knew that Tim Duncan was one of the best players in the league, regardless of who your idol was, because he and his team were always in contention. That right there is the embodiment of who Duncan was, and that’s how we will remember him, for being himself: the best power forward of all-time.