by Steven Adams
14.
INJURIES ARE A BITCH
In the 2014 off-season I had some serious work to do—and I knew my reputation was at stake. I decided to grow a mustache. I was hesitant at first, because if you can’t grow a mustache like Tom Selleck then why even bother, but I was getting sick of my rookie look. I waited until the off-season because no way was I going to be seen on TV during a game with some wispy mo’. That would have been serving up insults to my opponents on a silver platter. The off-season gave me two months to work on that thing before presenting it to the world.
The usual rule for rookies is that they have to stick around for most of the summer and continue working on their game so the coaches can keep an eye on them if needed. Thankfully, Gav had come over and observed some of my trainings throughout the season and talked to the coaches. They trusted him to keep me in shape in New Zealand. If the Thunder management didn’t trust Gav and Kenny, they wouldn’t have let me come back home for more than two weeks tops. Instead I flew home before the Heat and Spurs had even started their final series and went back only for a few weeks to train a little and compete in the Orlando Summer League. Otherwise, I was in Wellington and free as a bird. Or at least as free as a bird that had strict instructions not to get fat.
Growing a mustache was a very real part of my off-season training, even if it wasn’t explicitly stated. My rookie season had been spent innocently pissing off veterans and getting under their skin by feigning ignorance. But that only works for so long and we all knew that I wouldn’t be able to get away with it for another whole season. Which meant I had to toughen up.
What also helped—although this wasn’t the reason I got it—was a new sleeve tattoo from local Wellington artist Tuigamala Andy Tauafiafi. I already had “Funaki,” my middle name, tattooed on my right forearm, but it looked lonely there, so I got the rest of the arm filled in up to the elbow with Tongan and Māori designs. It was a good way to mark the end of the beginning of my NBA journey, and I was excited to be able to showcase part of my culture on American TV once the new season started. I wanted both Tongan and Māori designs because those are the cultures I felt closest to. In reality I’m not Māori at all, but I feel like I am. My mum might be Tongan, but because she wasn’t around, her kids never really experienced much of the Tongan culture. Dad was British so besides saying some words funny, there wasn’t a lot of culture on that side either. It was growing up with Viv and her family that made me feel Māori. Viv’s mum was Māori and so is her husband; that’s the culture we were raised in. I don’t have Māori blood, but in New Zealand you don’t need that to respect and love the culture of our country.
OKC TEAM ROSTER 2014–15
STEVEN ADAMS, center
D. J. AUGUSTIN, guard
NICK COLLISON, forward
KEVIN “KD” DURANT, forward
SERGE IBAKA, forward
PERRY JONES, forward
ENES KANTER, center
JEREMY LAMB, guard
MITCH MCGARY, center
ANTHONY MORROW, guard
STEVE NOVAK, forward
ANDRE “DRE” ROBERSON, guard
KYLE SINGLER, forward
DION WAITERS, guard
RUSSELL “RUSS” WESTBROOK, guard
In August I held my second annual Steven Adams Camp, and this time I brought some of the Thunder. It was a coaching camp so the first person I thought to ask was MB, since he was the coach I worked closest with in OKC. He didn’t even pause before saying he’d love to come. Once word got around the organization that I was holding camps in New Zealand and taking MB, the general manager, Sam Presti, asked if he could come along. I said yes because he was the GM and my boss, but I was nervous that he would find something wrong with how I was spending my off-season and shut it down.
After one season as a rookie it would have been really easy, and frankly quite normal, for me to completely separate my life in Oklahoma City from my life in New Zealand. Most players do it. They live and breathe their team during the season, but once that last game is played, they’re off on a boat or in Europe and leaving it all behind. After all, playing basketball was my job and people always say not to take your work home with you.
But OKC don’t roll like that. Being in the Thunder wasn’t just being in a cool workplace, it was being a part of a family who genuinely cared about you and had your best interests at heart, on and off the court. I’d spent the past 12 months going on about how New Zealand had better food than America and better landscapes and better everything, so I wanted to show everyone what they were missing out on.
But at the same time I was nervous, in the way that people get nervous when they introduce their girlfriend to their family. What if MB or Sam said something bad or disrespected the Māori customs? I wanted to show them the beauty of Māori culture, but I also knew that America doesn’t celebrate their indigenous culture in the same way, so maybe they would think it was silly. On the other hand, I was worried that something would go wrong during the trip and give them a bad impression of my home, which they would take back and share with the rest of the Thunder guys. Mate, I was stressing out.
Turns out, it couldn’t have gone better. I briefed MB and Sam a lot about the traditional Māori pōwhiri welcome that we would receive before each camp, how to hongi, and when to just sit quietly and listen. They might have been my coach and my boss, but in New Zealand I was the expert and they were my students. I explained the respect required for the haka and what it means when one is performed before you, and they listened. And when the haka was performed by the kids at the camps, they listened. There aren’t many moments when I’ve felt as proud to be a Kiwi as seeing my country and culture presented in all its wonder to my NBA family. I knew then that I’d do whatever it took to bring every last one of my teammates to New Zealand to show them where I come from and why I am the way I am. Bringing Sam along to that first camp proved to him (I think) why OKC was the perfect fit for me. The tight-knit community and the focus on doing things without drama fits right in with my New Zealand habits. Once he saw that, I think he understood how I was able to slot into the Thunder system so seamlessly.
I’d naturally gotten stronger in the legs throughout the season—108 games will do that—so the off-season was for making sure those gains weren’t lost and to work on evening out the muscle by building a little on my arms and a lot on my core. Gav had been given parameters but other than that it was up to the two of us and Kenny to make sure that I returned to Oklahoma in two months an improved player. I learned quickly that coming back after the off-season fitter than you were at the end of the last season is basically impossible. No training, no matter how hard or competitive, can replicate the intensity of a game situation. But the point is you have to at least try to maintain some fitness so there’s not too much to make up once you get back to training camp in the preseason. Then MB asks if you kept in shape and you insist that you did. Five minutes into his session you’ll be forced to admit that maybe you didn’t.
After our condensed draft preparation the year before, having so long to work out in Wellington was awesome, and we spent the time trying out new exercises in the gym and new moves on the court. I kept working on my shooting with Kenny, who had me shooting everything—layups, mid-range, and even three-pointers. I got to spend some time in Rotorua with the family and to go out on the farm again, although this time I was more understanding of the injury risks that come with farming.
I was also more aware of the risks that now came with doing anything at all. I’d been recognizable before the NBA just because of my size and the occasional news piece, but after making the conference finals (which even the part-time NBA fans watch) and actually getting good court time, I was suddenly a legit star, as gross as that sounds. I wasn’t necessarily at the level of being “famous in New Zealand,” but I was famous to any hard-out basketball fans and I was from New Zealand. So in that first off-season there were a ridiculous number of media requests and people stopping
me on the street. It seemed everyone wanted to get a bit of time with Steven Adams.
To be honest, I kind of hated it and still do. The kids are great. If a kid comes up to me and wants an autograph or a photo, I’m all good so long as they have manners. But when it’s an adult, I can’t help thinking: Why do you care? Most adults who talk to me in public start off as if we’ve known each other for years and it makes me think maybe we have. But then they ask for a photo and suddenly it’s weird. Why does a grown man, who probably has a good job and a nice family, want a photo with me just because I play basketball? To me, it’s the same as me asking my doctor for a photo. I suppose it’s the selfie world we’re living in, and I appreciate my fans, but it gets old after a while.
I guess I don’t get it because I was never starstruck by anyone (except Pop, and I’d never speak to him unless he spoke to me first because he’s Pop). For me, the only reason to get starstruck is if you see someone who’s doing what you want to do. And if you ever meet someone who’s at a place where you want to be eventually, don’t waste the opportunity by asking for a photo. Ask them for advice instead.
Because of this mindset, I’m always more than happy to answer basketball or school questions from kids of any age, and I’ll gladly sign autographs for kids as I can see how something like that might motivate them somehow. But people my age or older asking for a photo? Come on, mate, you know we’ve both got better things we could be doing with our time.
By the end of the off-season I was kind of glad to be getting back to the solitude and routine of a new season in OKC.
Scotty Brooks had me and Dre starting in the preseason games, both to give the experienced players more rest and to see how we would work as part of the first unit. In every team there’s the first unit (the starters) and the second unit (the bench with maybe one starter). I’d spent my rookie season as part of the second unit, so if I was going to start in the new season I’d have to get used to working with a different unit. Perk was still there and beating me up in practice, but I think we both knew that I might be starting as early as the first games of the regular season. I’m sure it bothered Perk, who was a veteran of the game, but he didn’t let it affect how we practiced and he just kept going at me the same, which helped both of us.
Preseason was much the same as the year before. This time I was a tad more comfortable because I didn’t think I was at risk of being relegated to the development league, but there was a different kind of pressure now. I knew I was being considered for the starting center position so I still needed to impress. The one play I still remember vividly is the first three-point attempt I ever took in the NBA. We were playing the Clippers (the bloody Clippers I tell ya) and I hadn’t shot a three in a game in maybe three years. I definitely hadn’t planned to shoot anywhere beyond the arc, but the shot clock was running down and we were scrambling for a loose ball. Suddenly, I had the ball at the top of the key with one second left to shoot. I turned in a panic, let it fly, and got a massive air ball. It was an air ball because it was too weak, but also an air ball because it wasn’t straight. I somehow shot a double air ball. I haven’t shot a three in a game since then.
When Scotty named the starting five for our first regular season game against the Portland Trail Blazers a week later, Dre and I were both on it. It was cool to be draft buddies from the year before and both starting on a conference finals team. But it was also bittersweet because KD was injured. He had fractured his foot halfway through preseason and ended up missing the first 17 games of the season. Russ took up the number-one spot, but only for a few games, and then he was out for 14 games with a hand injury.
As everyone knew, without Russ and KD, we had our work cut out for us. Reggie Jackson stepped into the starting point guard spot for 14 games and led the scoring for most of them, but we still lost 10 of those 14 games, at one point losing six on the trot. After 16 games in the regular season we were 4–12 and very much out of playoff contention. When KD and Russ finally came back, we went on a winning streak and soon were looking like we might just scrape into the eighth position.
It’s a point of pride for me that I never miss a game or a training unless I absolutely have to, and even then it’s usually because a coach or trainer insists I rest. If there’s literally anything I can do to play, I will. But what I can’t do is control my migraines. I started getting them when I was 14, shortly after my dad died. Those two things are probably connected, but we haven’t been able to figure it out completely yet. Half an hour before we were to play the Cavs at home in January, I sat in the locker room and watched as the vision in my left eye got narrower and narrower.
I knew straight away that I was done for the night. Once the vision starts to go, the excruciating headache comes in, followed by drowsiness and just generally feeling like shit. I swore to myself. I hadn’t missed a single game since I was drafted and “I have a headache” sounded like such a weak excuse. But I could barely see or think, let alone get up and play against LeBron James.
I called out to one of the medics and told him that I’d be out for the game. As soon as he saw my discomfort, he rushed off to tell the coaching staff. I’m stubborn as hell and never want to show anyone that I’m hurting, so for me to ask for something to ease the pain was big. But even as they gave me some quite strong meds and the pain went away, I knew I would be hopeless out on the court. I sat in the locker room all game, pissed off that I had let my team down. We lost that game as well, which only made it worse. I vowed not to miss another game all season because our team had had enough injury setbacks as it was.
I managed to keep that vow for six games. Then I broke my hand playing against the Clippers. I swear to God that when I look back on the all noteworthy moments, both good and bad, in my career, the Clippers are somehow always there. Maybe some of their famous curse rubbed off on me and caused my injury.
I went up for a rebound and was hacked on my right hand. I knew straight away that something was broken because I couldn’t make a fist. I still had two free throws to shoot, so I shot them left-handed. I actually made one of them, which means my left-handed free throw shooting is just as good as my right-handed. We deliberately fouled immediately and I sprinted straight to the changing rooms, before I could accidentally knock it again and make it worse. I was like Forrest Gump when he scores that touchdown and just keeps running right out of the stadium.
After an MRI, it was confirmed that I had a fractured metacarpal, which would require surgery to put a metal rod in next to the bone. I had the surgery the next morning—they don’t muck around—and was told I would be out for at least three weeks. At any other point in the season, three weeks could mean up to 14 games. Russ’s injury was very similar, and he missed 14 games. But because it was right before the All-Star break I was out for a full month, yet only missed 11 games. Eleven games is a lot to miss, but after KD’s and Russ’s injuries that same season, 11 games didn’t seem so bad.
As a team, we just couldn’t catch a break. Besides the break in my hand. And Russ’s hand. And KD’s foot. So really we caught a lot of breaks.
For a professional athlete, there honestly is nothing worse than being injured. Getting injured is always painful, but being injured can suck the life out of you from the inside. While most people think that coming back from injury takes a lot of physical work—which is true—it’s keeping your mental game up when you are unable to play that requires all the energy. My injury period of one month was short compared to those guys who tear ACLs in their knee or just straight up break a leg. Even so, I was going a bit crazy by the time I got to play again.
As it was my hand that was injured, the coaches made sure I worked the rest of my body twice as hard. And because shooting, passing, and scrimmaging (all the fun parts of training) involve hands, I spent most of my time on the treadmill or on the bike or on some other machine that is designed to ruin your day. Like the off-season, not being able to play in games when you’re injured means you are at risk of letting you
r fitness levels drop dangerously. I foolishly thought that being injured would suck because it would be boring to not play, but worse than that, it sucked because it was physically so much harder than playing.
Up until my injury I had been playing well. I wasn’t suddenly putting up huge numbers, but they had always been improving. Part of that would be because of the extra playing time I was getting, but I also felt myself getting more and more comfortable in the first unit and knowing what plays worked well and opened up opportunities for me to score.
When I got injured in early February, Perk subbed in for me. When I came back to play again in early March, Perk was gone. He had been traded to the Utah Jazz. I was gutted to see him go, but it looked like it could be a good move for him. The trade itself involved three teams and way too many players to keep track of, but we ended up getting Enes Kanter, who I knew was good because I never enjoyed playing against him. We also lost Reggie Jackson in that trade but, to be honest, I wasn’t that sad to see him go and I’m pretty confident the feeling was mutual.
The Thunder organization works because every single person knows exactly what their role is and performs it well. I, for one, was thriving in my role as the new starting center thanks to the continued guidance from Perk and Nick. However, Reggie didn’t like his role. When KD and Russ were both injured, Reggie became the starting point guard and therefore a team leader. We all knew he thought he could go up against the best point guards in the league because he was the only one who ever complained about court time. Ever.
During those 14 games Russ was out, he got his wish. Although he scored well and his stats looked good, we weren’t clicking on the floor. I knew it, Perk knew it, Scotty knew it, probably everyone knew just from looking at our win–loss record. Reggie didn’t really know it.
When Russ came back from injury and took over the starting spot again, Reggie wasn’t happy. We were just looking at him thinking, “You’ve got to be some kind of fool to seriously think you should be starting over Russ.” But that’s exactly what he thought, and that kind of thinking went against everything the Thunder was about. Yes, we competed in practices and fought for the starting positions, but once the actual game starts we all do whatever is required of us, no matter how much or how little.