There is an easy way to compare the teams in this current Toronto-Washington series and it doesn’t require any stats or highlights. Contrast Kyle Lowry and DeMar DeRozan’s post-game presser after the Raptors Game 2 win:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BhshZSiDdKL/?taken-by=raptors
(As an aside, remember that article earlier in the season that surmised DeRozan wasn’t the best fit for the All-Star team because he didn’t seem “fun”?)
With the clip of Marcin Gortat and John Wall arguing on the bench, while a beleaguered Bradley Beal sits beside them, holding his head in his hands:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PnjAxHR1Xxg
If you’re still not sure what the difference is, take JV’s post-game and put it side-by-side with John Wall’s.
Valančiūnas, dressed like a substitute math teacher determined to have a good day, answers with disarming earnestness when asked how he made an impact early in Game 2. “We strong as a team, we not strong as individual players. We did it as a team.” There is no hesitation in his voice, no question, only the sense that this has been his and the overall methodology of the Raptors all season. For all the jocularity of Lowry and DeRozan, the ease and the comfort they both plainly feel to act so easily with one another at a presser, JV shows his comfort via sincerity almost severe as he continues, “I think this is team sport and when you play it together, support each other, help each other, it’s fun. It gives you extra confidence to enjoy the game.”
Wall, on the other hand, is guarded. He’s got sunglasses on for starters, and he’s clasping his hands together, directing his eyes down at the stats page on the table in front of him. He’s a professional, so he knows how to answer all the questions he’s asked, and you do have the sense he inhabited the game fully as he lists off all the plays where his team went wrong. But the isolation he reflects when he repeats the mantra the Wizards were telling themselves all night, to “keep fighting, keep fighting” is palpable, and watching the presser you get the sense that while there’s no doubt he’s the team leader, he’s still one guy up there all alone who isn’t really sure why his team couldn’t break through.
What’s permeating the Raptors gameplay is trust, camaraderie, and put really simply: fun. That’s the difference between these teams. And while a lot of teams can take on an added dimension to their chemistry come post-season, whether through competitive spirit or digging deep, the anatomy of Toronto has been developing all year. Whatever new determination they are going to feel as these playoffs continue will be another layer to add around an already stable and thriving nucleus at the centre of them.
A lot had to change to put the Raptors here and there’s no overlooking the hard work of the coaching staff and players to overhaul their style of play to something that could be elevated and adaptable, both traits that were sorely lacking in the past. But confidence is always the make-or-break ingredient, and I’d wager a guess that the way these guys get along with and have come to rely on one another comes from the easiest kind of confidence in action—fluid, seamless—but the hardest to get, the kind you only really feel with friends, or friends made family.
Third in the league at 3 point percentage (44.6), 5th in assists and 3rd overall on blocks—categories where the team lagged in previous seasons and where it ended up hurting them come crunch time—these are calling cards of confidence for which the Raptors have at the ready. And they aren’t plodding through the motions, plugging away at their deficits in order to just get them done. No, this is a team now comfortable with going for the big moment, with opting for a lob that hangs there above the rim and makes everybody hold their breath, inviting an opposing defender to swat it away but instead trusts that Delon Wright, Pascal Siakam, even an amped up Bebe, is going to connect and deliver the dunk. Big moments like this keep the momentum going in any game but are even more pivotal in the playoffs, where you can almost feel them super-charging the air. They aren’t everything, and they aren’t the bedrock that winning games are built on, but they require the kind of self-assurance that comes as a result of the perfect trifecta of self-possession, support, and skill, and when that’s in action it is fun as hell to watch.
In a lot of other leagues fun gets a bad rap. It’s secondary to the severity of competition, and while it’s what sets the NBA apart week after week with weird antics and player-driven drama, there are still some teams who take a militaristic mindset when approaching playoff games. There’s nothing wrong with it, some coaches and players clearly thrive when they zero-in with a precision that leaves little room for experimentation. Before this season and even secretly, before these last two playoff games, I would have said the same went for Casey in his coaching style. But all that’s changed. No matter what happens there will be no going back to old methods, no reverting to tactics this team once relied on in bad binds that barely helped anyway. The kind of elevated competitive mindset we’ve seen the Raptors enter into has only been made possible because of the not zen-like way they’ve been playing. Or if you want to look at it another way, fun—playing with a lightness that infuses every action—just adds room for even greater depth.
