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Russell Westbrook is fitting in by being himself in the exact way the Clippers needed.
Move over, Myers & Briggs, you had a good run, asking NBA fans to visualize a league without Russell Westbrook is, to my mind, a more psychologically telling exercise.
Some will immediately picture that ‘Society If’ meme, a utopia of crystalline towers, green space and flying cars, others will think of the ‘This is Fine’ dog drinking coffee in a house on fire (that my brain conjured up two memes as comparison points is its own psychological exercise for another time). The reactions to Westbrook have always existed in extremes. Where you sit is indicative of the kind of basketball you not only like to watch, but that you fundamentally believe in.
Those opinions went on to inform the framework of the latter half of Westbrook’s career. Since the erosion of the Kevin Durant-Westbrook Thunder, in which a competitive roster was slowly jettisoned out over seven seasons, Westbrook’s had a harder time than his former teammates establishing himself with another franchise. Part of this was because the teams that took Westbrook on were at stages where they considered themselves to be more or less “complete,” to varying results. The expectation was that Westbrook would figure out a fit as a sidekick to an existing star (Houston, James Harden), seamlessly slide in as part of a new pair (Wizards, Bradley Beal less John Wall), or assimilate within an intractable culture (the Lakers, LeBron James), but all those front offices and their aspiring situations neglected to consider the most critical thing — Westbrook has never been an accessory.
Where he excelled was in a fluid, cooperative ecosystem. That rare kind of basketball team that is not just dense with the type of talent that allows it to play fluid, but one that played around and with a sort of 360-degree clarity of one another. Even after the Thunder lost Harden, they were able to bump up against the NBA Finals because they had size, shooting, movement, and in Westbrook, the element that powered it all, a fearless velocity.
By now I’m sure you understand where I sit with the idea of a Westbrook-less NBA, but it was difficult in the last few seasons to watch him and wonder whether that velocity had waned. It’s normal for athletes to lose a step as they get older, or as they adjust to changing teams and changing playing trends. As the NBA has grown more ambitiously positionless — teams powered by players with long, strong bodies who are as quick as they are capable shooters, slipping from the one to the five, threats on both ends of the floor — the specific caliber of athlete like a Westbrook, Harden, Kawhi Leonard or Paul George can seem antiquated as far as their universal fits.
Which is why it’s so intriguing that the Clippers have wound up clinching a top-five playoff spot in the West with those exact four people. Depending on how you look at it, Lawrence Frank and Ty Lue opted to pull together something of a last chance, an homage to the not-so-distant past, or a sanctuary for fading stars in the changing landscape of the game. However you see what the Clippers are, squint and you’ll see a rarer thing: A basketball ecosystem in which Westbrook is thriving.
How weird it must be, to be let go from one job only to show up for the new one in the same place. Stranger still to go from maligned, considered an impediment to growth and development, to immediately instrumental, a competitive necessity. This was Westbrook’s switch last February from Lakers to Clippers, both sharing the same route to work, both under the same roof. The difference shouldn’t have been all that drastic, but the results have been night and day.
Westbrook was the team’s leading scorer in their five-game postseason appearance last year, scoring 37 points in Game 4 in an effort to keep his Leonard-less team in it a little longer. When the Clippers made the surprising move to land Harden late in the off-season, Westbrook requested that he come off the bench behind him, to help the team figure out its rhythm. Speculation over Westbrook’s ability, or desire, to adapt to a secondary role took a backseat when it became clear there was nothing secondary about his minutes. Clocking upwards of 20 minutes most nights, chipping in a handy 10 to 15 points, generous as ever with his assists, and tireless about securing the ball — pulling down an average of 5.1 rebounds per game. Whether in propulsive offensive bursts or steadying stretches of transitional care, the Clippers needed Westbrook on the floor. It’s reflective in the team’s offensive production — 4th in the league in their offensive rating — and the way the Clippers manage to outlast, outpace, force mistakes, and generally frustrate opponents.
Three of their last four games (Denver, Cleveland and Phoenix) were against teams rife with shooting and more storied shooting options, and the Clippers managed to rattle them all the same. In Phoenix — and his first start since November — Westbrook recorded 16 points, 15 rebounds, 15 assists and two steals, and became the first NBA player in history with that stat line and zero free throw attempts. It was Westbrook’s 10th career 15/15/15, his 199th triple-double (the most in NBA history), and he didn’t ask for the game ball. On the 200th, he said he would.
Photo by Christian Petersen/Getty Images
Westbrook, in the sides he lets us see on the floor and the philanthropic work he does off of it, exists in dualities. When he’s watching the game unfold without him from the tunnel, furiously peddling on the bike to stay primed to come in whenever the Clippers need him, or racing and roaring around the floor, taunting opponents, there is nothing that marks him as humble. In the quiet and hugely impactful community work he does, there is nothing that marks him as otherwise. He oscillates, often, and often in the same game, but the beauty of Westbrook on the Clippers is that the team, largely through Lue, anticipated and made space for those swings. Within that space, Westbrook can switch from one mode of performance to another, going from glue guy to revving engine to anticipatory menace, and then settling back at the center. For the first time in a long time, maybe since he left OKC, Westbrook has found a role with an NBA franchise that doesn’t exist in extremes.
Star-stacking is still a viable path to contention, but it’s growing more expensive for NBA front offices, with more risk. Lose your best player, or worse yet your tandem duo, and watch your franchise tumble in the standings. A glance at either conference this season is proof enough. The Clippers, with four technically older stars, are not immune, but being able to shift in and out of play, supported in huge part by Westbrook’s absorbing and maxing out his supporting minutes, the Clippers have stayed largely healthy. Lue’s said Leonard should be back before the playoffs start, and the team may just be taking a cautious route with Harden as they close out the regular season. Westbrook’s recent injury, a fractured left hand and the most serious of the group (Toronto’s star, Scottie Barnes, suffered the same and has been out for the season since the beginning of March) put him out a dozen games, and since he’s come back he hasn’t played less than 17 minutes.
There is the sense that for this team to win it all everything needs to break exactly right. The core four have, in a sense, all hit (and moved a tick past) their primes at the same time but on different teams, in much different timelines. Leonard wants to play methodical basketball, Harden is capable of having blistering nights but consistency is getting harder for him, George can fade into the background and between them, Westbrook moves as furious tornado. That’s the surface. What’s below, and the under-the-radar way the Clippers have played all season, should give some hints to how they could push as far in the playoffs as the team ever has.
George’s effective field goal percentage has ticked up to .568 from last season’s .536, he’s taking and making more threes than he has since 2019; Leonard is at an effective field goal percentage of .585 — a career-high — and his time at the free-throw line has gone way down (for comparison, in Toronto’s title season he was averaging 7.1 free throw attempts per game, 4.2 now). Harden’s shooting has also ticked up, and his assist rate stayed steady, suggesting, as all these numbers do, that the three of them are playing freer by virtue of not having to exist in one singular role — the thing they did for the majority of their careers.
Westbrook’s stats take longer to parse, given his minutes decreasing, but with the caveat that they haven’t slipped, only improved. His shooting is less voluminous and as effective (.486) as it was when he led OKC on both their runs to the Western Conference Finals. The tactical advantage the Clippers have gained by having someone at Westbrook’s caliber and experience come off the bench is unique. By watching the game unfold from the bench (more accurately, from the bike in the tunnel) he can determine what’s needed when he clocks in. Do they need someone to come in and make aggressive plays, a rhythm adjustment? Do they need a savvy steward to lob some assists and keep the lead while the starters catch their breath? Westbrook’s oscillations now move between architect and handyman, paramedic and chef — because the guy still cooks — all these hats and more that he’s happy to wear, whenever needed.
“We’ve done so much in our careers already,” Leonard said earlier this season, of Westbrook’s decision to slip from the starting lineup, “So I think he just wants to have an opportunity to get there and win.”
The Clippers are a quiet team, Westbrook is not a quiet player. This season, after a trip around the league and landing in an ecosystem seemingly ready for him, considerate of his vacillating forms and without losing a step, he’s settled. The result hasn’t been a dimming, but a renaissance.
