We all welcome a little familiarity in our lives.
The same side of the bed; the same coffee mug; the same breakfast sandwich from the same café on the same weekend morning after the same favourite morning cartoons (nothing like the wholesome fun of Tin Tin and Captain Haddock’s adventures, am I right?).
It’s with good evolutionary reason, of course. Why upset a good thing, when you got it good?
It also makes new beginnings harder to embrace. The future’s vague, shapeless spectre leaves us all as vulnerable to bad times as it does good. No way to know or control what is, or isn’t, to come.
There’s excitement to be certain (especially, if you’re of the gambling ilk or inexplicably possess that inextinguishable sense of optimism, yeck), but, ultimately, the discomfort of the unknown makes us all squirm some.
Such is why you might feel a tad unnerved or adrift come this NBA season. For the first time in well over a decade, the Toronto Raptors feel somewhat…unfamiliar.
For better or for worse, the Raptors have been a known quantity for a long time. Like an overpriced basement suite (I know you know what I’m talking about, Toronto), the floor was concretely pronounced and ceiling very, very visible. Winning a lot was likely; the NBA Finals were not. Of course, the 2019 Championship changed all that, but the Black Swan event of acquiring a two-time Defensive Player of the Year and Finals MVP (no, not you, DeMar),
was an exception to the rule.
Not since 2010 has this franchise’s identity been so undefined. That post-Chris Bosh year rested wobbly upon the shoulders of a “peaking”- still sleepy – Andrea Bargnani, a blossoming, but young sophomore in DeMar DeRozan, and a smattering of if-you-squint-hard-enough-they-might-kinda-look-like-NBA-players dudes like Linas Kleiza, Sonny Weems, James Johnson, and Amir Johnson. Need I recall their 22-60 record?
It was the following year and a half, when the Raptors hired Dwane Casey, drafted Jonas Valančiūnas, traded for Kyle Lowry, and drafted Terrence Ross that engendered the “Winning Era” we just mourned ending.
That core and its subsequent iterations – inundated by waves of hate, love, doubt, apathy, hope, a feverish annual case of LeBronitis, and demand after demand for a FUNCTIONAL POWER FORWARD – remained a relative “constant” amidst a League in continual flux. Wayward players (Trevor Ariza moved teams 9 times in that same timespan) and grumpy Superstars reformed squads like a 10-hour session of Warzone.
Only Team President Masai Ujiri and Chris Boucher – who joined in 2018 – now remain. They’re much less relatable these days. Boucher – God Bless his commitment – is a bench relic, destined as a ninth guy for a contender. Masai has lost the shine of the wheelin’ ‘n dealin’, brash, flawless leader we all once worshiped. Mistakes piled. Plenty of them. And as each compounded one upon the other, the slow, somewhat predictable demise of an era and team Masai constructed – and allowed to crumble – unfolded.
No one’s perfect. Failure in such an unwieldy league is expected. Still, Masai was humbled. His hubris disarmed. And like many of the bold, accepted responsibility only…in time. Too long, most proclaimed; at a lesser Return on Investment others bemoaned. (I’m not one of them). Masai, finally a simple human once again, must start anew.
From scratch. And, so must we.
Of the 2023 Opening Day roster, only Scottie Barnes, Jakob Pöltl, Gradey Dick, Garrett Temple, and Boucher remain. Add several young’uns, some “second draft” projects, and a few veterans – Boucher, Pöltl, and Bruce Brown Jr. – possibly vacating Canada by March 2025, and we’re effectively left with a blank sheet of paper. And a lot of outdated jerseys in the closet.
Again, not a bad thing. Just unusual ground for Raptors fans who experienced constancy for so long.
Instead, a long winding road of uncertainty lays ahead. One in which a fan’s labour of love might only realize modest outcomes. Where one need extract joy from the minutia of it all: the emergence of new fan favourites; the evolution of younger players game-by-game, quarter-by-quarter; the sneaky underdog wins on the road; the “G League” guy; the new bonds, on the floor and off; the creativity of an innovative coaching staff; the trade conjecture; Drake’s disappearance from the sidelines; or, the leverage a “rebuilding” franchise holds over championship contending teams come trade talk.
There is so much with the new to be thrilled about. For it is the origin story – thanks Marvel – that makes the struggle and the triumph so enriching. Without it, Toronto’s just the Los Angeles Lakers.
Besides, it wasn’t all that long ago, we faced similar volatility. In fact, such a dramatic turnover of personnel parallels closely to the reconstruction years following Bosh’s waltz over to the Heatles.
2011-2012: A first-year coach in Dwane Casey, a young up-and-coming Star in DeMar, a miserable record (23-43 [ten games short due to a lockout]), and the vestiges of a decrepit veteran core swapped out for an influx of new shooting, playmaking, and experienced youth (Lowry, Ross, Landry Fields, and Rudy Gay) to surround DeMar. The change bumped them to 34-48 the following year, and set them on a new trajectory forward.
2023-2024: A first-year coach in Darko Rajaković, a young up-and-coming Star in Barnes, a miserable record (25-57), and the vestiges of a good but stalled out veteran core swapped out for an influx of new shooting, playmaking, and experienced youth (Immanuel Quickley, RJ Barrett, Ochai Agbaji, Kelly Olynyk, Ja’Kobe Walter, Davion Mitchell, and a few others) to surround Barnes. The change, I’d venture to guess, will marginally affect their record, but set them, too, on a new trajectory.
We know the old tale well. The next year Masai swoops in, transforms the team with a few magical tweaks and savvy trademarks, and the rest is history.
There’s no reason to think we’re not witnessing a similar transformation now. A new era is upon us. What it will look like, how it will take form, and for how long is what trust and hope and dedication makes true fans who they are.
So, if this fall approaches and you feel a bit more disinterested than usual. You feel estranged or fatalistic. Remember, we’ve been here before.
And we know where it can take us.