As a Canadian, I only really think of Shai Gilgeous-Alexander’s nationality when I see that he’s spending time here in the summers – I mean this as a positive. The Olympics were a patriotic anomaly (that unfortunately flamed out), but the fact of where he’s from is not relevant to his player and star profile, because Gilgeous-Alexander has made himself universal.
This is a rarity for all NBA athletes, think of the handful of transcendent and globally embraced stars: Steph Curry, LeBron James, Kevin Durant. It’s even rarer, ironically, for international players, who seem to have to shake the gravity of where they’re from to be embraced as bonafide stars (I was going to make a comment about American imperialism, but this is only our second newsletter).
Steve Nash is the last Canadian athlete who comes to mind, for his recognition but also his unique skillset, individual style and how, reacting to match and adjust to him, the game necessarily shifted. That’s another trait of the universal star: they bring lasting changes to the way basketball is played.
I think of the way Gilgeous-Alexander works the floor, like his personal metronome is three beats ahead. He’ll drive to the basket only to pirouette out from under the rim, fake a wide side-step to lose his defenders, then slide back for an underhanded feathery lob up and in. He knows which way everyone is going and for a few rare seconds, watching him, you too feel like you’ve been granted the gift of basketball foresight. He’s crafty, quick, and the bane of rival team scouting staff for his off-balancing ball handling and smooth-but-juddery footwork. Like a magnet, defenders get drawn to him, defensive schemes go out the window, he upends calculable order.
And he’s done it all so quietly.
Plying his trade down there on the gloaming plains of Oklahoma, steadily improving every season for six seasons now. He’s learned to be a star without any of the usual pressure and learned to be a leader among equals. It’s a rare mix of conditions, and SGA has flourished within them.
Where that’s relevant to MVP contention is that while we know, intellectually, it’s an award based on skill and accomplishment, emotionally it’s based on fervent, hot-to-the-touch popularity.
There’s a certain appeal in arguing for the same names we’ve had for seasons now – Nikola Jokic, Joel Embiid, Luka Doncic – but wouldn’t it be a little bit thrilling to make the case for grace and psychic menace, over force? For someone who melds eye test and proof in numbers and still doesn’t really care whether you view him as an export or under-the-radar case, because all the basketball you watch already has his mark all over it, whether you’ve been paying attention or not.