The following is a guest post by Alison Stover.
The best day of my life was June 13 2019. I had spent the night at work, too superstitious to arrange for a colleague to take my place. Twelve hours of precisions and attention to detail — which if missed or omitted means that somebody probably dies. So I concentrated on the work at hand despite my heart being four thousand kilometres away. The second best day of my life was June 14 2019, which began as I uncharacteristically opened a celebratory beer and sat down in front of the T.V. at 8:30 in the morning. I was euphoric, and delirious, and tired.
Fans will know what those dates mean. June 13 was the day that the Toronto Raptors became NBA champions. It is a day which is stamped indelibly on my brain and was preceded by the most magical and unlikely period of Raptors history. DeMar traded. Jonas traded. And Jakob Poeltl. Danny Green, Kawhi Leonard, and Marc Gasol joined the team. Then the angst of yet another first-round, game-one loss, this time to the Orlando Magic. The four-bounce miracle. The two-game hole versus the Milwaukee Bucks. Then “fuck it, let’s get them both”. The rollercoaster of game five — KD’s injury and Kyle Lowry fouling out. The word magical is overused, but it is apt on this occasion. The entire country, formerly a hockey country, was caught in the Raptors’ playoff run like Dorothy in the tornado.
Before 2019, I always made a point to talk with anybody wearing Raptors’ gear or who had team signs on their car or Toronto Raptors license plates. I live in a small town, so it didn’t happen very often. I remember having a discussion with a young guy probably half my age at an intersection. We were at a red light with cars behind us. We talked about the team’s inability to move the ball, the predictable offensive sets, and whether we thought Dwane Casey was the coach of the future. We knew the light turned green because cars behind us started to honk their horns. We drove slowly side by side for about ten seconds, continuing our discussion and laughing. Have never seen the guy or the car again, but I’ve had the same conversations in the grocery store or when kids walk by dribbling a ball. It didn’t happen very often, but it was meaningful when it did.
All of this changed in the spring of 2019. It was incredible. Since I wore nothing but Raptors’ swag, it was easy for people to start up conversations. And everybody wanted to talk Raptors. I took my dogs to a secluded beach one day, and a truck with four guys on their lunch break stopped. They looked like unlikely fans but — hey, everybody was a fan. There was joy in every day, every win. And after everything the fanbase has endured, it felt so damned good, like a heavy backpack had been lifted from your shoulders after the portage from Murray Lake to Nellie Lake. Shout out if you’ve ever done it — mad respect.
Then the parade happened. Most of us have never seen anything like the parade in our lives, and we might not see it again, pandemic and all, for a long time. A million people? Two million? It doesn’t really matter. We were united in our love and admiration for a team which seized the moment and for the architect of that achievement, Masai Ujiri, who brought word to life when he said “we will win in Toronto.” Seeing Masai, who had his shining moment stolen from him in Oakland, wearing a “Got Em” t-shirt gave me goosebumps.
The joy of those days grew roots from the early years of being a Raptors fan. I remember watching in despair in 2007 as our starting point guard T.J. Ford was fouled hard by Al Horford, then a rookie. He lay on the court without moving, suffering the second of several spinal injuries which ultimately forced his early retirement. All of my hopes were dashed. I remember games against the Steve Clifford-coached Charlotte Hornets. The Raptors would go in as clear favourites against a much weaker team and leave with an L. I remember, late in Chris Bosh’s tenure, a contested drive that left him flat on his back after a hard foul. No teammates went to help him up. Guys suddenly got busy adjusting their shooting sleeves or tying their shoes. It spoke volumes about the team’s dysfunction. It was unsurprising that he left in free agency and the organization got nothing in return. Starting over again — again. How Bryan Colangelo would bring us to the promised land but somehow got called on his bluff, and we ended up with Landry Fields instead of Steve Nash. Many difficult years. Decades, in fact. Hands up if you watched Quincy Acy, Sonny Weems, Anthony Parker, Pops Mensah-Bonsu. Do you remember the infamous Salmons inbound? The behind-by-three-end-of-the-gam
We suffered long and hard with this team. That gave the victory shape and texture that those accustomed to winning could never know. It also means that we know what bad times are, and this ain’t it. Something happened on May 31 2013 to change the franchise, to alter the trajectory of the Raptors to what we see today. That something was Masai Ujiri. Equal parts visionary and tour de force, Masai launched the team and the city into relevancy. He started by building what he called “culture.” He rode buses with fans to games in Detroit. Once, I saw him post game, standing with his arms crossed, staring intently at the scene taking place at centre court. It was long after the game. Hundreds of Raptor fans, with their flags and hats and jerseys, had taken over the Palace of Auburn Hills and were joyously celebrating a win. Audacious! Masai stood, taking it all in. I was three or four metres away from him and could have spoken to him, celebrated with him. But the moment seemed profound for Masai, and I let the thought of disturbing him slip away. The profundity for each of us was separate and distinct. It was clear then that he was building something, building towards excellence, that he is a leader, inspiring, and teasing out the potential of everyone around him. And eloquent. He never spoke ill of people, even those who deserved it. And the “Fuck Brooklyn” moment was surely a calculated ploy to stir up the fanbase. We loved Masai both for the confidence and for his saying after the fact that his mom would not have been proud of him for speaking in that manner. He surrounded himself with diligent, hard-working, smart people. DeMar re-signed — unheard of that a premier free agent would want to return to Toronto. Masai pulled levers and succeeding in building a practice facility for the team — something attractive to free agents. Establishing a G-League team was an investment that will pay dividends far into the future. All-Star Weekend? What a coup for the Toronto Raptors to host basketball royalty in Canada! Suddenly our players didn’t leave town at the first opportunity, and they actually talked about how much they loved the city. Then 2019 happened,
That playoff run, and the strange pandemic season that only recently ended for Toronto, mean different things to new fans. If the years of failure and futility were a bank — the brick-and-mortar place where money is deposited and bill are paid — then I am a shareholder at that bank. Not a majority shareholder though. I’ve got a few shares and a feeling of belonging. I read the quarterly reports and go to the shareholder meetings. But I’m a small-time investor. There are some heavy hitters, some majority shareholders and a couple of chair persons who have been there from the beginning. They are heavily invested. They’ve seen it all. I’m thinking Nav Bhatia. I’m thinking of the men and women of Raptors Republic. I’m thinking of the thousands of fans who stayed with this team through the worst of times yet had hope through it all. Those years of investment echo that “it’s going to be ok.” The Raptors will weather this storm. This team has been hit by the fallout from the pandemic in an outsized way. Not one single home game. Uprooted from homes. Moved on a month’s notice to Tampa. Families separated. Players Sick with COVID. Injuries. The mythology of Sisyphus comes to mind when considering the challenges that the Raptors faced this year, and there is no doubt that many of us were shocked and disappointed by the way that the season ended. Still, players picked each other off the court when they fell; they remained united; the IT that the Raptors finally found has not dissolved and fled. And if strength is formed in the crucible of struggle, as it was for so many years with this team, these upcoming Raptors’ squads will come out stronger on the other side. As Kyle Lowry said in his acceptance speech when he was awarded an honorary doctorate by Acadia University “there is no success without struggle.” The mold has been formed. We have tasted success. The work will continue to be done. Commitments will be kept. Principles will be upheld. Handshakes honoured. And know that, in the words of Masai Ujiri himself that “we will win again in Toronto.”