by Steven Adams
Game seven was messy. Desperation will do that to a man, no matter how much money he’s making. I kept busy in the opening minutes, taking shots, getting rebounds, and, sadly, guarding Steph Curry on the perimeter. He and Thompson were shooting well again, but so were we. After making a total of three three-pointers in game six, we made three in the first six minutes of game seven.
To no one’s surprise, Draymond Green and I got into it again. Going up for a rebound, he fell back and took my arm with him. I was flipped over and ended up on my back on top of him. I knew I didn’t do anything, but while the refs reviewed it for a long time the crowd started chanting, “Throw him out! Throw him out!” I figured they probably wouldn’t be yelling that about their own guy, which meant they were wanting me kicked out. The refs ended up calling it a double foul, meaning no one was happy about it. At that point we had an 11-point lead, so I focused on that instead.
If we faltered in game six in the last five minutes, we did the same in game seven in the third quarter. We kept doing the work in the paint, but the Warriors had moved the game to beyond the perimeter, where they lived. Because of how much their system moved off the ball, I found myself guarding Curry and Thompson on the perimeter again and again. My reach did nothing to stop their threes from going in. But for some reason all our threes stopped dropping. Our 13-point lead in the second quarter turned into an 11-point deficit by the end of the third.
We had a lot of work to do in the fourth quarter if we wanted to keep our season alive. We finally dropped some more threes and cut the lead down to five. As KD shot one of them, I set a screen and rolled the opposite way, blocking Andre Iguodala. When I turned back around on defense he looked mad, and I had a feeling we’d be getting into it again on the next play. But instead I was given a rest. My last play of the 2016 season was setting a screen for KD. Strangely poetic when I look back on it now.
The Warriors held on to their lead and kept us at arm’s length for the remaining few minutes. We had blown a 3–1 series lead. Our season was finished.
After the game, with the sound of the celebrating Warriors’ fans rippling its way through the corridors and into our locker room, we said nothing. There was nothing to say. We all knew we should have won that series two games earlier and deserved to be in the finals. No one spoke about getting redemption next year because of course we were getting redemption next year.
We were going to have a sour taste in our mouths all summer because of that series and we weren’t planning to have sour mouths for any longer than that. There was unfinished business to attend to as soon as we were back in OKC after the break. No one needed convincing.
At least that’s what I thought.
16.
MR. TRIPLE-DOUBLE
“MVP! MVP! MVP!”
The chant was deafening—the closest you could get to a playoff atmosphere during the regular season. The crowd, who had been largely quiet for most of the game, were now chanting for Russ as he took two free throws in the fourth quarter against the Denver Nuggets. MVP chants had been a regular occurrence at home games in the lead-up to the playoffs, and this was no different. Except it was, because we weren’t playing at home. Russ was getting MVP chants from the Nuggets’ home crowd in the middle of a tight fourth quarter.
They weren’t chanting for nothing. In fact, I’d come to accept Denver as being one of the toughest places to play because of the altitude and their aggressive fans. But even the bitterest of fans can appreciate being a part of history as it’s unfolding.
With three games left to play, Russ had recorded 41 triple-doubles and was sitting equal with Oscar Robertson for the most triple-doubles in a regular season. Two days earlier, against the Atlanta Hawks, he became the second player in history (after Robertson) to average a triple-double throughout an NBA regular season. At that point it was clear to everyone that the season belonged to Russ and we were just there for the ride.
We all knew he would get that last triple-double, but we were hoping he wouldn’t leave it to the last game. The Denver altitude meant that even though everyone was fit, it was always a bitch to play there and I never felt 100 percent in that arena. Not Russ, though; he played the same as always. That’s because Russell Westbrook approaches every game the same, as anyone who has ever seen an interview with him will know.
After the series loss to the Warriors, no one expected Russ to have to carry our team in the new season. In fact, no one was expecting anything to change at all. Players move between teams and pretty much all of that stuff happens behind closed doors, but we knew we had a championship team. Why mess with it? But of course that’s when KD left to join the very organization that had just beaten us.
OKC TEAM ROSTER 2016–17
ALEX ABRINES, guard
STEVEN ADAMS, center
SEMAJ CHRISTON, guard
NORRIS COLE, guard
NICK COLLISON, forward
TAJ GIBSON, forward
JERAMI GRANT, forward
JOSH HUESTIS, forward
ENES KANTER, center
DOUG MCDERMOTT, forward
VICTOR OLADIPO, guard
ANDRE “DRE” ROBERSON, guard
DOMANTAS SABONIS, center
KYLE SINGLER, forward
RUSSELL “RUSS” WESTBROOK, guard
Like everyone else in the team, I found out that KD had left by looking at my phone. I think Nick sent a message in the group chat. Everyone was shocked. We had all gone our separate ways to get some space to reflect on what was an intense postseason, but I never once thought about whether any players would leave. I was in New Zealand paintballing with a bunch of old mates when the news came through. I hadn’t really been keeping in touch with any of the Thunder crew, because the first month of the off-season is log-off mode when you don’t have to think about basketball so much. I took that month very seriously and used it to relax at home and remember that basketball isn’t everything.
I understood why KD did what he did, although I might have done it differently. Winning a championship ring is more important to some players than others. For me, as long as I can keep improving and developing as a player, I’m happy. And it helps when I know I’m surrounded by good people who feel the same. Plus, I couldn’t handle the snake comments.
Russ got his ninth assist with two minutes to go in the third quarter. He already had over 30 points and a dozen rebounds, and now he just needed one more assist for that triple-double. The crowd knew what was going on and every time he made a pass there was a collective gasp as everyone waited for a shot. Meanwhile, I was on the bench. It was the end of the season and our playoff spot was safe at sixth seed.
I was a bit bummed for a day about KD and then I got back to enjoying my off-season. Without having to play in the Summer League I was able to spend more time in New Zealand and traveling. And the main reason I love doing those things is the food.
Oklahoma City is great and the people are awesome, but it doesn’t have the food that New Zealand has. Whenever I bring Thunder guys over for my camps, I make sure they try all the food we have, including the traditional hāngī, which is the bomb.
I think part of the reason I love it so much is that it’s a family thing. You can’t just go out and decide to do a hāngī by yourself one afternoon. It takes hours of preparation. Digging the hole, heating the stones, getting all the food wrapped up tight, putting the food on the hot stones, and filling up the hole with dirt. Then you wait as it cooks for hours underground before pulling it back up and serving. I like to do it with my brothers and their families and it becomes like a mini reunion anytime we have a hāngī.
That’s why food is such a big part of my life. It comes with cultural and family significance, and I like to show my Thunder family what it’s all about.
New Zealand is so, so multicultural, and you can find food from any country made by people from that country. My go-to whenever I am home is R & S Satay Noodle House on Cuba Street in Wellington. If you’re ever in Wellington,
go there and get the chicken noodle soup. It will make you question your own mum’s cooking.
Other than food, I always try to show the OKC guys how beautiful New Zealand is. It’s not that there aren’t beautiful places in America, it’s just that New Zealand is better. When Nick and Dre came over for the camps after our series loss to the Warriors, we went on a classic Kiwi roadie. I wanted to show them what I did for fun, which was eat, hang out on farms, and wear Swanndries. They got into it and I wasn’t surprised when Dre said he wanted to come back again the next year. I’m sure he wants to buy a farm down south and retire there. I don’t blame him.
Russ rested for the end of the third quarter and the start of the fourth. That’s what was crazy. He was averaging a triple-double but wasn’t even playing whole games. The Nuggets were up by 10, but our second unit was doing well to keep them within reach. As soon as Russ got back in, everyone knew we were gonna get him that assist. Haters loved to say that Russ’s teammates helped him get his triple-doubles by gifting rebounds, but it was funny how no one else in the league was performing anywhere close to him all season. Were their teammates not nice enough or something? As soon as Russ got on the floor he passed to Enes for a layup, but Enes traveled. No deal.
The trip around New Zealand was fun but more importantly it gave Nick, Dre, and me time together away from basketball to chill out before we returned to OKC and to our new, bigger roles in the Thunder organization. With KD signing with the Warriors and Serge traded to the Magic, suddenly Dre and I were Thunder veterans. Only Russ and Nick had been there longer than us, and we were just entering our fourth season.
We began the off-season expecting to win the championship with the same team the next season, and we ended it with a brand-new squad and brand-new roles. That’s the business of basketball. The one steady ship in all of it was Russ, who had just signed a three-year extension and put everyone at ease. I knew Russ wasn’t going anywhere, but it was good to have it confirmed.
Pretty soon, every time Russ got the ball, the Denver crowd would stand up and cheer with their phones ready to record the historic moment. The problem was, he needed one of his teammates to actually score off his pass. And mate, we were not on form.
Once again, I found myself elevated to a position I hadn’t thought I would reach for a few more years. But I didn’t stress about it because my track record showed I did better when thrust into challenging roles. Just last season I had recorded six double-doubles all regular season and then recorded six double-doubles during the playoffs. I liked being put under pressure and I was about to get a whole lot of it.
In our first game of the preseason, it was buzzy to see myself next to Russ on all the graphics around the arena. Before it had been Russ and KD, or Russ, KD, and Serge. I had had the luxury of not having to look at myself everywhere. Now it was just Russ left from that group. I’d gone from a supposedly risky draft pick to the billboards of a playoff team in three years. I don’t think anybody predicted that, least of all me. Being the vets on the team, suddenly my pick-and-roll with Russ became one of the most used plays in our arsenal. My workload in the paint felt like it doubled, even though I was still doing the same things.
With each shot that we missed off Russ’s passes, the groans from the crowd got louder. How hard could it be for someone other than Russ to score? Enes missed, Domantas Sabonis missed, Domantas missed again and the crowd were getting rowdy. All this missing meant the Nuggets’ lead stretched out to 14. So the next time we came down the court, Russ pulled up and nailed a three from the top of the key. He would rather win than get the triple-double.
As I became more and more central to the team and its success, I distanced myself from social media. When I was a rookie I wanted to know what everyone thought, and I was open to advice from anyone. But after a season of trying to please or impress strangers on the internet, I realized I had to stop or it would ruin me. I’ll be honest, in the beginning the attention was intoxicating. Thousands of people were genuinely interested in everything I was doing and part of me loved it. But after a while I knew that if I got too hooked on people saying nice things about me, I wouldn’t be able to handle when they said nasty things, which was bound to happen. I drifted away from social media and put that energy into my team.
Being on social media too much also meant I was closer and closer to being part of the drama. Some teams love drama, but the Thunder like to keep things chill.
Even though we were playing away from home, there was a pocket of loyal Thunder fans sitting not far from our bench. Honestly, they were louder than the whole rest of the stadium. Everyone was still standing, waiting for that tenth assist, and it was becoming like a block. No one could concentrate while history was still on the line.
I was still one of the younger guys in the team, but age doesn’t mean much in sport. You’re either a leader or you’re not. I was about to find out which label I held. We got Victor Oladipo in the Serge trade, and it was nice to see a familiar face. Victor had been the second overall pick in my draft year so Dre and I had gotten to know him at rookie events before our first season. He could sing, which was a problem because I had already established myself as the best shower singer in the team. Except he could really sing and sang all the time, so Russ and I became his back-up vocalists.
With a few minutes left in the game, Russ drove to the hoop and passed out to Semaj Christon for a baseline three. That shot was recorded by thousands of Denver fans as it went in and the place erupted. Russell Westbrook was the new record holder for the most triple-doubles in a regular season. I’m sure the Denver fans cheered extra loud because they were still up by 10 and thought they had the game in the bag.
Predictably, our season wasn’t as good as the one before. We intended to be competitors and make the playoffs, which we did, but it was also a rebuilding season. For years our team had been built around Russ and KD. I was happy being a role player and I would have been happy staying a role player my whole career. But that’s not what the Thunder front office had in mind when my rookie contract ran out.
I subbed back in on the next play as the MVP chants started and Russ got back to being a scoring machine. He may have just made history, but we still had a lead to cut and a game to win. Ten points is nothing in an NBA game and we had at least two minutes.
Once you’ve been in the NBA a few years you start to think that your life is normal. You can start to think that being paid $2 million a year isn’t a lot because it’s not a lot in the NBA. So when contracts run out and negotiations for extensions start to happen, it’s easy to lose sight of the real world and what’s normal there.
After my rookie year I signed a three-year extension and that extension was going to run out at the end of the 2016–17 season, making me a restricted free agent. Restricted free agency means a player can sign an offer sheet from any team, but their original team is allowed to match that deal and essentially have first dibs. To avoid all of this, teams that want to keep their players will sort out an extension well before the player enters free agency.
The Thunder were keen to keep me around so in the summer before the 2016–17 season, they started working on a contract extension. I wasn’t involved in the talks—that’s what agents are for—but I knew they were wanting to work out a deal and I was happy to hear it. The NBA is a fickle business and players get traded at the snap of a finger. I’ll always remember being on the bus heading to the stadium in Golden State and sitting next to Lance Thomas, one of my buddies. I had my headphones on like everyone else and it wasn’t until I got inside the arena that I realized Lance wasn’t around. “Where’s Lance?” I asked one of the trainers. He looked at me as if I was messing with him. When he saw I wasn’t, he replied, “Didn’t you hear? He got traded to the Knicks.” Lance’s trade had been finalized while we were on the bus and, because he was now officially a Knick, he wasn’t even allowed inside. He waited on the bus and was taken back to the hotel. That’s the business of basketball.
I felt lucky to be with an organization that wanted to extend my contract because I loved playing for the Thunder, and frankly it sounded like a real hassle to move to a new city and new team. At some point in the talks I was told to say what I thought I was worth—a dollar amount that I thought I deserved to be paid. Have you ever had to answer that question? I’ll tell you right now, it’s not an easy one to answer. If I was talking about working out a contract for virtually any job in the real world, I would not answer that question with $100 million. But the NBA is not the real world, it’s a world where answering that question with $100 million is a perfectly reasonable thing to do. In fact, it’s so reasonable that the Thunder front office agreed with me.
With less than two minutes to go and down by five, I got called for two off-ball fouls in the space of 15 seconds. Usually it was me managing to get sneaky fouls out of opponents, but Nikola Jokic gave me a taste of my own medicine that night. The next time Russ got to the foul line, the MVP chants were long gone and the boos were back.
I signed my contract extension in November 2016. Four years and $100 million. It was a massive deal, but not because of the money. It was massive because it meant I would have a job for at least another four years and the chance to achieve big things with the Thunder.