A Series of Questions

As kids, we’re always waiting for the day we become grown ups, as though one magical day will come and change everything we’ve ever known. We dream of those arbitrary flags stuck in the sand. At 18, we’re allotted certain freedoms. At 21, we’re given a few more for good measure, which last for the rest of our lifetimes. Of course, they don’t mean much.

For his 21st birthday, my friend got an unusual set of gifts from his girlfriend. No alcohol, no alcohol-related paraphernalia, none of that. In a box was a 2-gun NERF set and Monopoly, with a note that read, “You’re never too old to be a kid.”

But we grow up. We grow up fast, and the perks of childhood invisible to us as children become unattainable treasures as adults. If there’s a finite window of opportunity to tap into our youth, are there signs that tell us when? Is there a point of no return?

11 months ago, Kevin Durant and Derrick Rose spearheaded young teams clinging to the eighth seed in the playoffs. Six months ago in Turkey, Durant and Rose established themselves as objects of idolatry on the world’s stage. Now, both teams have attained elite status among fans, coaches, and peers. They have become the new standard for the NBA superstar, as both mask their inconceivable gifts with mild mannered confidence, and a gluttony for hard work. It’s mentioned repeatedly, but it still doesn’t make sense that both players are only 22, with Durant only five days older than Rose.

Alas, the ascension of both Durant and Rose (and their respective teams) comes with a set of demands. It comes with the assumption that both the Thunder and the Bulls can make it past the first round, a feat neither player has achieved before. Of course, most of us assume they will, because making it past the first round isn’t exactly the golden prize in sight here. Uneasiness begins to fester in the second round, the Conference Finals, and the Finals — where expectations skyrocket, where the first signs of “weakness” are uncovered and scrutinized and where legacies are built up and torn down.

Durant and Rose are extolled for what they’ve done to bring their respective teams to a contending level, but this is hardly unmarked territory. If there is any precedent, it lies in 2007. In Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals, LeBron James scored 48 points (and 29 of the last 30 points for the Cleveland Cavaliers) in a momentum-shifting victory against the defending Eastern Conference champion Detroit Pistons. James’ performance was one of the most astonishing playoff outings in recent memory. Every shot in that sequence of events, from the fourth quarter through double overtime, was an affirmation of James’ unflappable desire to win. And in just his third season in the league, he made it to the NBA Finals. He was only 22. The rest of the story does not bear repeating. It’s still unfolding before us.

The similarities between James and Rose are clear and distinct. Rose has emerged as a legitimate MVP candidate in his third year, largely due to the introduction of Coach Tom Thibodeau, the defensive mastermind setting the Bulls’ greatest strength in motion. In Chicago’s middling offense, Rose is the primary, secondary, and tertiary options, which somehow aligns itself well with the team’s overall commitment to defense. If images of Mike Brown’s second year and the soloistic performances of a young LeBron James come to mind, it’s only natural. But if Rose is indeed on James’ path, what could it mean for his future?

For Durant, it’s different. So much has been done to portray Durant as the anti-LeBron. This isn’t to say that there is any ill will between the two, but Durant has cultivated an image based on a wholesome personality and a dedication to the team aspect of the sport. It just happens to be the opposite of our current projection of James. We swoon over Durant’s talent and he hardly ever disappoints. But in the end, if Durant isn’t able to make it through in the clutch, our perception can easily shift in the future, pulling Durant closer and closer to the current image of James.

Durant and Rose will learn, just as James did, that reaching that top plateau means any step backward will spark doubt and backlash. We’re told to expect greatness, and there’s nothing wrong with expectation. But what happens if neither the Thunder nor the Bulls make the Conference Finals in the next two years? How long do Durant and Rose have before they are tossed to the wolves? Or will the wolves come at all?

Four years ago, on the last night of May, LeBron James created a legend at the Palace in Auburn Hills. For one night, he was everything anyone could ever wanted. James is still every bit the spectacle he was back then, but his image as a winner has been tarnished. A winless NBA Finals series and a few close-but-no-cigar moments against the Boston Celtics and the Orlando Magic can do that to a player. A lot can change in four years. Kids are forced to be men. Of course, things are different — and the change is accelerated — when you were expected to be a man from day one.

Keynote speakers tell us that in youth, mistakes can be made and that failure is an option. But Rose doesn’t buy any of that, and have you seen Durant after a loss? In Rose’s “movie trailer”, he makes rash declarations and disregards conventional wisdom, basically summing up the process of adolescence. Holly MacKenzie wrote about Rose’s unguarded candor, a quality quite possibly behind his years:

Open and forthcoming, if you ask a question, he will answer it without ever thinking about how his answer might affect him afterward. A lot of players say they don’t read the newspapers and blogs and a lot of players lie. You get the feeling that Rose isn’t when he says that he keeps his focus to basketball.

Derrick Rose: Sidestepping the spotlight, by Holly MacKenzie | The Basketball Jones

While Rose’s insular focus is surely to be commended, how would his lack of periphery affect him if he doesn’t meet our expectations? Rose is a hometown hero. He’s been a star from the beginning, and has grown as a player with the adoration of a rabid fanbase behind him. Will his focus shield him from the hate? Or will a dismissal be too damning, too real?

Durant and Rose are playing “Grown-Up” in a sandbox, and unlike some of their peers, they’re doing a damned good impression. But adults are tough to fool, and youth won’t always make up for inexperience. What’ll happen when they step into the “real world”? In the spotlight of the playoffs, we’ve seen the unlikely occur. We’ve seen great teams crumble before their time. If the improbable happens, can Durant and Rose still cling to their youth? Or does perception and expectation strip them of what’s left?

There are no definitive answers to these questions, now or in the future. But it’s a primer for what might be in store, no matter how much we wish it wasn’t so.