Wishing everyone a better tomorrow.
I've been a Kevin Durant fan for several years now. When you like someone, it's easy to project your own imagination onto them. I tell friends many reasons for liking Durant. In truth, these aren't necessarily real, and even if they are, they're probably quite different from what I imagine.
Being a fan is like that—you find all kinds of reasons for your affection. I think if you emptied me out like a bowl and took me back to 2015 or earlier, why did I admire Durant? Simply because he's good at basketball. Of course there are many different styles of being good. I like Durant, I like Tracy McGrady, I like Steve Nash, I like Stephen Curry, but I can't quite appreciate the basketball of LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, or Shaquille O'Neal. So appreciating a player may involve some deeper reason, like falling in love—feeling, whether the feeling is right matters a great deal.
I admire Durant's genuine toughness on the court—the way he is, on the whole, always calm, never dejected, never afraid to shoot, no matter how important the shot or how badly he's been shooting. Some players lack Durant's true killer ego. They may pretend to have it, but their body language betrays them: they're dejected, they're afraid to shoot, they don't dare shoot and score even as they pretend to be fearless (Draymond Green, for example). This doesn't necessarily correlate with skill or status. The list of such killers is long—some are role players, like Robert Horr or Steve Kerr; some are inconsistent shooters, like Andre Iguodala. When you look back at history, you find some people are remarkably lucky—like these players, like Durant. How does he always bank in the clutch shot in Finals Game 3? The truth is, all luck has a non-luck component. The real story is that they are genuinely tough killers who possess unparalleled confidence and will, and that's why they can accomplish things that look improbable but are actually achievable if you simply go for it. This is what's called: fortune favors the strong.
When you consider what Durant is like off the court, his on-court performance becomes even more moving. I think Durant's public persona isn't the polished, official version of other players. He cares that people call him a "traitor" for joining the Warriors. He'll argue on Twitter about the Cavaliers' "trap the ball-handler" defense, trying to show that the Cavs weren't solely trapping Curry to leave him open. He'll say things like "when the guys around you aren't that great, it's easy to stand out; when they're great, it's a whole different story; I'm proud that I stand out either way"—things that are tonally off-key (even if largely true). I think this side of him is connected to the on-court side. Durant has said "I still don't know who I am—I'm figuring out who I am." A person achieves some things and earns the right to play certain roles. Some people are skilled at that; some aren't. After all, a person is not a role; fundamentally, a person can't play at being something. Having the courage and honesty to face yourself, and being tough in competition—these may be the same thing. So Durant doesn't know who he is, and yet he knows who he is. In the series against the Clippers, he said "I'm Kevin Durant," and then he showed the world who Durant is: someone who possesses a firm yet flexible self, who becomes powerful through being real.
There are many times when I use Durant's performances to motivate myself: when you're still in the game, never, never, never be dejected. Compete with everything you have while simultaneously fighting calmly for the right to stay in the game. If I were to say one bad thing about the Warriors, it would be this: apart from Durant and Iguodala, I believe Warriors players lack this kind of toughness and maturity. When things aren't going well, the whole world can see their frustration and recklessness—and that kind of emotional reaction is unworthy of victory.
But on the other hand, when the game is over, you should move past the emotions of victory and defeat as quickly as possible. We live to keep walking forward, not to live for yesterday's results. Each day the sun rises anew, as though we tip over this cracked bowl of ours and all the darkness within us is completely released. After all, even if you were Durant, plenty of people think the Warriors are better without you, think your ability to impact games isn't enough. So if there are problems in life, what's so strange about that? Besides, you're not even Durant. The game is over—hone your craft and pour yourself into the next one.
I believe the Warriors and Durant are already very close to their next game. Whether in victory or defeat, be ready with honesty, courage, and toughness to face what comes next in life.