(Editor’s note: Welcome back to The Athletic NBA 75. We’re re-running our top 40 players to count down every day from Sept. 8-Oct. 17, the day before the opening of the 2022-23 NBA season. This piece was first published on Feb. 8, 2022.)
For 19 seasons, Tim Duncan was a metronome of excellence. If change is the only constant we are guaranteed in life, Duncan was the sole amendment to that while playing out his career in San Antonio.
The NBA has seen great players before, but few as good as Duncan, for as long as Duncan and as unique as Duncan. He was dominant without being overwhelming. He was remarkable without seeming remarkable. He was unceasingly consistent without drawing much attention — a Patek Philippe with all the hype of a calculator watch from Best Buy.
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There may be no better summation of the Duncan era than the low-hum complaints about the Spurs’ success: They were too boring. Dynasties do not usually engender disinterest of that kind. They draw in fans, leeches and oglers. The Bulls became a traveling roadshow in the 1990s with Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and, later, Dennis Rodman. The Lakers with Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant brought tabloid intrigue to the league. The Warriors with Steph Curry were the digital-age darlings who modernized the NBA.
The Spurs just showed up, kicked ass and went home.
This was, by no coincidence, a reflection of Duncan, its undoubted superstar. He showed up to the NBA, brought in more than 21 points and nearly 12 rebounds per game as a 21-year-old rookie and just never stopped. He was the reluctant hero, happy to win games and rings, wanting nothing more.
Tim Duncan averaged 19 points, 10.8 rebounds and 2.2 blocks over his career. He won five NBA titles and two MVP awards, and he was an All-Star 15 times. The Spurs won 1,072 regular-season games while Duncan was there — 1,174 in the other 27 years. They won 56 games in his first season and 67 in his last. They finished with fewer than 50 wins just once while Duncan was in San Antonio — in 1999, when there were only 50 games because of a lockout — and won their first ring that season.
When he retired in 2016 — quietly, of course — he left the sport as the best power forward it had ever seen. He had connected the NBA from Jordan to LeBron to Curry, as his franchise ushered in an era of globalism to the league. He not only outlasted his peers — Kevin Garnett, O’Neal and Bryant — but also bested them as the greatest player of his generation, and as No. 9 on The Athletic’s list of the top 75 players in NBA history.
“Just hearing the story of him being from St. Croix. Him growing up as a swimmer to being, in my opinion, the greatest power forward to play this ball game,” said Marcus Camby, who played against the Spurs 50 times during his career. “He had this stoic face all the time. You can never really get a read on him and get a read on how he was feeling out there on the basketball court. But one thing that spoke volumes was the way that he played.
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“He played the game the right way. He wasn’t overexuberant out there. He didn’t show a lot of emotion out there. He was a guy who did all things well. He could play with his back to the basket. Face up and shoot. And, (he) was an anchor on the defensive side. In my opinion, he was one of the complete basketball players to (ever) play.”
It was an audacious ride for a tale that had such unlikely beginnings.
Duncan was born and raised in St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands. He was a swimmer until he was a teenager. He was discovered so late in the regular basketball recruiting arc that most schools ignored him. If he had gone with his second choice of colleges, he would have starred at Delaware State. Instead, he was a four-year wonder at Wake Forest and, then, the No. 1 pick in the 1997 NBA Draft, when the Spurs landed the lucky lottery numbers and jumped up two spots to nab him.
It was the beginning of one of the NBA’s longest-running success stories. Duncan came to San Antonio near the end of David Robinson’s career. A back injury robbed Robinson of most of the 1996-97 season, which allowed the team to bottom out and land Duncan. Together, they formed a dynamic frontcourt duo, two towering 7-footers who instantly brought the best defense in the league to town.
The next season served as a passing of the torch. Duncan won NBA Finals MVP as the Spurs beat the Knicks in five games, winning his first title as he averaged 27.4 points and 14 rebounds.
That was the start of a new era in Texas as the Spurs became a model organization with Duncan as its epicenter, no small feat for a franchise that harbored several other future Hall of Famers during his time: Robinson, coach Gregg Popovich, Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker.
Popovich has said that the key to his success was drafting Duncan. He also empowered the coach to lead his way. Popovich coached Duncan hard, which gave him cover to ride everyone else, too. In 2012, a Spurs coach told Sports Illustrated about the relationship: “How could a guy like Stephen Jackson complain when Pop was motherf—— Tim every day?”
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For nearly two decades, Duncan held the Spurs up against the rest of the NBA. It was a nearly peerless run, with few blips. The only time it ever became endangered was in the summer of 2000 when he nearly left in free agency for the Orlando Magic. But that fell through; legend has it Doc Rivers’ unwillingness to let spouses on the team plane detonated Orlando’s pitch, and Robinson and Popovich talked Duncan back into staying.
But that summer remains just an asterisk in his career. The move, while close, never came to fruition. He never left San Antonio, never said goodbye until 16 years later. It was the only time Duncan had publicly been out of lockstep with the franchise.
Duncan’s greatness came from his deliberate style. He was always measured, always in control. His work in the post was like a workshop in technique for big men. The only nickname that truly ever stuck to him came from Shaq; O’Neal dubbed him “The Big Fundamental.”
Duncan made routine moves into works of art. He moved around the low post with ease, each possession always in his control. His post-ups were programmatic, his butt sticking out like a bulldozer to make space until he found the right groove on the floor. His hook shots were graceful as if he pirouetted into each one.
Every jumper from the elbow felt like a master working the canvas. Each jab step was a brushstroke from a genius. His bank shot became an unstoppable move; it was his signature.
It was reliable and undeniable. Opponents wrote it into the scouting report, knowing they could not stop it.
“You knew it was coming and if you got up close to him thinking you were going to block the shot,” said Antawn Jamison, a two-time All-Star. “He was so great and comfortable putting the ball on the floor, he could get to the rim with one dribble. … That bank shot was on point. The game plan was you had to double-team him.”
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He even confounded foes with his personality. Duncan always played it straight. A rare fist pump was his burst of emotion.
The players who played against him most remember his inability to get flustered as if his emotions had been sucked out before he took the court. He was the anti-Garnett, who snarled, growled, and grimaced up and down the floor. Duncan was resolute, statuesque in his reluctance.
“He was cool, calm and collected,” former NBA player James Posey said, “while he bust ya ass.”
Think of Duncan’s greatest moments. What was he like?
When he hit that jumper over O’Neal with 0.4 seconds left in Game 5 of the 2004 Western Conference semifinals he never celebrated. He stumbled after his shot, fell, got right back up, and walked to the huddle after the whistle.
In 2003, he barely rustled after every important Spurs basket in the fourth quarter of Game 6 of the Finals. As his teammates jumped around and celebrated on the bench as the final seconds ticked away in their victory over the Nets, Duncan stood nearly motionless in the corner. When the buzzer sounded it seemed as if it had barely registered with him.
“He never talked,” Camby said. “I wasn’t a big trash talker myself so I can respect that, but I think that was one of his powers because you were never able to get a read on him. Were never able to judge his temperament out there on the basketball court. He was always one way and it was always laser focus.”
Not that opponents didn’t try, but it was wasted energy. Garnett tried but even he had to quit in the end. He was no match for the NBA’s version of the Queen’s Guard.
Duncan stayed even-keeled most of the time despite some disagreements with referees. The only sign of frustration he’d ever reveal, Jamison said, was a tap on the butt.
He responded with subtle tips or acknowledgments, instead. Posey remembers Duncan offering the slightest smirk after a good move or a shake of his head when he tried something on him as if to let him know he was too small. Every once in a while, Duncan might even give some encouragement, whispering, ‘That was better’ after a move he liked.
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“With all that success, if it was probably me, I would be an asshole, talking shit as much as possible,” Jamison said. “Not with him. He just came out, let his game do the talking, gave you 27 and 13. Just another day in the neighborhood.”
Duncan also had impeccable timing. He saved his best performances for the biggest games and won three NBA Finals MVP awards.
He was a monster in close-out games. Duncan had 31 and 9 against the Knicks in Game 5 of the NBA Finals and played all but 107 seconds that night. He nearly posted a quadruple-double against the Nets in Game 6 of the 2003 NBA Finals, with 21 points, 20 rebounds, 10 assists and eight blocks. He still owns the record for most blocks in an NBA Finals with 32 that year.
He created havoc on defense with his long limbs and instincts. He made an All-Defense team 15 times, just as many times as he made All-NBA. It allowed him to age well; at age 36 he made First-Team All-NBA and then third-team All-NBA in his second-to-last season at 38.
When he finally retired in 2016, he did so in silence. The Spurs sent a news release. There was no ceremony, no great ritual in his honor. Duncan didn’t utter a word. He has always let his game speak for him.
“The Spurs won because of Tim Duncan, a guy I could never break,” O’Neal wrote in his autobiography. “I could talk trash to Patrick Ewing, get in David Robinson’s face, get a rise out of Alonzo Mourning, but when I went at Tim he’d look at me like he was bored. Whenever I run into a Tim Duncan fan who will claim Tim Duncan is the GOAT, I won’t disagree with him.”
Career NBA stats: G: 1,392, Pts.: 19.0, Reb.: 10.8, Ast.: 3.0, FG%: 50.6, FT%: 69.6, Win Shares: 206.4, PER: 24.2
The Athletic NBA 75 Panel points: 1,007 | Hollinger GOAT Points: 519.2
Achievements: NBA MVP (’02, ’03), 15-time All-NBA, 15-time All-Star, NBA champ (’99, ’03, ’05, ’07, ’14), Finals MVP (’99, ’03, ’05), Hall of Fame (’20), NBA 75th Anniversary team (’21)
(Illustration: Wes McCabe / The Athletic; Andrew D. Bernstein / NBAE via Getty Images)
