Long story short Klay Thompson is my favorite player in the NBA. He personifies what I admire in a contemporary basketball player.
He was never a glorified sure bet star when he played college ball at Washington State. He was one of those players you knew would get drafted, but you weren’t really expecting him to become a Splash Brother and become the best two way shooting guard in the NBA up until he blew out an ACL in the Finals against the Toronto Raptors two seasons ago.
His game was not only being Steph’s backcourt splash mate, but it entailed a toughness on defense which branded him as one of the best defenders at his position in the league. Klay would guard the other team’s best offensive guard and the Warriors would try and help Steph as much as possible on the defensive end with the weaker opposing guard.
Jerry West thought so much of Klay he told Golden State ownership he would quit if they traded Klay. He meant it.
Klay ‘was’ a shutdown defender with a clutch deft touch from beyond the arc. Plus, he ‘was’ a fierce no nonsense old school competitor which is a rarity in the diva laden NBA superstar stratosphere of today.
Klay was my inspiration to create my own hoops metric of TSN in measuring NBA players. Toughness, Smarts, and Nasty. But with Klay a C needed to be added… as in Clutch.
But with Klay it became even more personal with me in Game 6 in Oklahoma City.
My father had been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer in November of 2015. A doctor told us he had two months to live and he would need to get his affairs in order. The doctor made it very clear it would be my father’s last Christmas. Tears were streaming down the doctor’s face as his told us, and in a matter of seconds we were all crying as well.
You can react in two ways at news like this. You can either feel sorry for yourself or decide to live what you’ve got left to the fullest.
My father clearly chose the latter option.
We made sure to watch every notable sporting event together up until the end.
OU football. The Super Bowl. The Final Four. The Masters and his love of golf…Rory. Later on we even saw Dustin Johnson win the U.S. Open—his first major. And of course–the Thunder.
I’ll never forget the Christmas Day game against the Spurs in San Antonio.
We’re sitting there and Russell went full mode Wild Thing as Bob went berserk. Literally berserk. He wanted to trade Russell right there and then on Christmas Day. Wanted me to get Presti on the phone and execute a trade. Ask me if I could get Steph Curry for Russell. I said not likely unless Golden State ownership had lost their collective minds. He then went into a tirade on what Eddie Sutton would do with Westbrook if he were the coach of the Thunder.
Eddie Sutton would have been laughing his ass off if he were with us that day… and I know what Coach Sutton would have said because I asked him what he would do with Westbrook that Pistons’ game as I sat next to him and his wife Patsy on the floor. The notion of Bob and Coach Sutton deciding how to handle Russell Westbrook is one which always makes me smile.
But Russell settled down and actually was the MVP of the game as the Thunder beat the Spurs on the road in a pretty good game.
So our last Thunder season together moves along. Lo and behold my dad was still going strong as the playoffs got going. Not strong enough to attend games in person, but strong enough to have watch parties at my parents house for every game with cheese burgers from Earl’s or pizza from Hideaway being the game time meal.
The Thunder easily made it thru the first round and then played perhaps their best ball ever since the 2012 Western Conference Finals against the very same Spurs pretty much.
We all know the story. The Thunder stayed hot and went up 3-1 on Golden State. The Warriors won Game 5 in Oakland and the series then returned to Oklahoma City for a potential closeout in Game 6.
Game 6 ran concurrent with Father’s Day. My son Chris got us two midcourt seats down low as a Father’s Day present for both of us.
At first my Dad said he didn’t want to go because he didn’t think he could handle it physically. But afther thinking it over he changed his mind and made a go of it.
My wife dropped us off at the arena an hour before tip just outside one of the entrances. Dad sat in a wheelchair while I pushed as we got to our seats before most of the crowd started entering the arena.
So we sit there and witness this epic classic for the ages as Golden State can’t do anything right and fall behind the Thunder. But Klay Thompson starts making threes with Andre Roberson draped all over him in every imagineable manner.
Yet as the ball releases from Klay ….it goes splash, splash… splash. Eleven times all told in one of the clutchest performances we’d ever witnessed from an NBA player minus maybe Larry Bird or Michael in their primes.
There was this deafening almost sickening silence in that arena as the outcome became evident in the last minute of the game. It was surreal like watching the The Natural with Robert Redford. There were these twinkling little starlike particles in the air. I would almost describe it as Biblical. No one in that building thought OKC would go to Oakland and win Game 7.
And of course…the Warriors closed out the Thunder in Game 7.
So as I wonder if this Achilles injury will mark the end of Klay’s career… I have to note there will always be a very warm spot in my heart for Klay Thompson.
Sure—we would have preferred OKC had won that night and advanced to the NBA Finals. But in retrospect as father and son we got to see Klay Thompson at his very best have a game which will be ecthed in NBA history…and which as it turns out changed the entire landscape of the NBA a few weeks later on July 4th.
Klay Thompson will forever have a very deep emotional connection to my heart for what happened in Game 6 that fateful night.
My sister in Seattle emailed me this wonderful article written by Howard Beck in the NY Times which kind of set me off this morning and made me remember my close emotional attachment to Klay Thompson.
Saying Goodbye to the Trips of a Lifetime – The New York Times (nytimes.com)