Dynasty: The San Antonio Spurs' Timeless 2014 Championship

By Jesse Blanchard

This commemorative book on the 2014 NBA champion San Antonio Spurs provides a visual look at the Spurs’ exciting road to championship glory. Through insightful articles by Jesse Blanchard and nearly 100 full-color images, this celebratory book takes readers from the season's first games in November through the Spurs’ playoff battles against the Mavericks, Trail Blazers, and Thunder before the epic NBA Finals showdown with Miami. Featuring profiles of head coach Gregg Popovich, Tony Parker, Tim Duncan, and other Spurs stars, this keepsake book is an essential part of any fan’s collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Triumph Books
• Release date: Jul 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781633191310

Book preview

Though he usually possesses a low-key demeanor, Kawhi Leonard, the NBA Finals MVP, celebrates exuberantly with his teammates. (AP Images)

Contents

Introduction

NBA Finals vs. Heat

Season In Review

Western Conference Quarterfinals vs. Dallas

Western Conference Semifinals vs. Portland

Western Conference Finals vs. Oklahoma City

Tony Parker

Tim Duncan

Gregg Popovich

Manu Ginobili

Kawhi Leonard

Boris Diaw

Introduction

A Fictional Look at the Spurs’ Battle With Mortality

Weary from an intense five-hour film session, San Antonio Spurs head coach Gregg Popovich sat alone in his office. He’d sent the rest of his coaching staff home long ago, allowing himself some time to sort through their recommendations and game notes on the Miami Heat.

Glancing at a clock that read 1:00 am, Popovich wondered if it wasn’t time to head home to his own family. The time-consuming responsibilities of an NBA coach might be understood by loved ones, but they’re not always greeted with enthusiasm.

Organizing his notes, Popovich caught the sight of his breath in the air as the temperature dropped precipitously. He knew then that he would not be leaving anytime soon, not with his guest arriving.

I know you’re here, Popovich said as he pulled out an old chessboard, two glasses, and a bottle of wine from his personal Rock & Hammer collection. He poured a glass for himself, sliding the empty one across his desk as had become his custom. Have a seat and a drink. If you insist on keeping it so damn cold in here, this bottle does a pretty good job of warming your bones.

A shrouded figure appeared before Popovich, tall and lanky. The shadows cast by his oversized hood masked most of its face, its arms reaching out as far as Kawhi Leonard’s. In one pale hand the figure carried an oversized scythe, in the other, a large hourglass.

Death, or Father Time, whatever label one might affix to this figure, accepted the seat but not the wine. He never did. In a way, he knew Popovich’s offer was as much subtle jab as hospitality. Wine, after all, is a substance that gets better with age.

This reaper rarely likes to make his presence known, content to allow the wild imaginations of men to build up his stature. But he liked bad publicity even less. So when reports of a basketball team defying age began to reach him, he had to investigate.

He’d seen many superstar athletes wrestle with their own mortality, dragging frayed ligaments across the court trying to regain the stature they had when their opponents watched them years ago as children. It was always easy for an athlete to hang on too long even as time had taken a knee, ankle, or back.

Prior to Game 1 of the NBA Finals, coach Gregg Popovich takes in the scene of what would become his fifth NBA title. (AP Images)

The Spurs were different. In some ways they appeared to be openly mocking him, garbed in black—his colors—while shrugging off his best work. The tallest one even adorned his bulky knee brace with a skull, death’s sigil. But few men ever gave his work the proper respect or appropriate fear.

They paid tribute to him in the form of time and sweat during the offseason. Unbeknownst to them, Death would drop by to marvel at the amount of work and preparation they put in to offset the limitations he would impose on their bodies. They stretched more, worked out, ate better, made adjustments to their games. They didn’t try to beat age, they simply worked around it.

In Popovich’s office, he and his guest were an hour into their game of chess. They’d been playing over the past few years, with the results always the same. Death never lost a game; Father Time is undefeated after all. But each time they met, the games lasted a little longer, that final move proving that much more difficult to execute.

Death had a way of setting his opponents in traps, feigning a weakness in order to strike at an overambitious opponent. This false hope was among his favorite strategies, and it was both frustrating and curious that Popovich never fell for them, no matter how enticing the opening.

Popovich’s goal was never to win, he had too much respect for his opponent to believe this were possible. His aim was merely to delay. In doing so he drew out information, picking up on strategies and tells from his opponent.

Taking lessons from the chessboard to the basketball court was never difficult, he’d been doing it for years. Manu Ginobili worked like a bishop, slashing his way through defenses at impossible angles. Tony Parker a knight, weaving his way in and out of traffic. And of course, Duncan operated like a Queen on a chessboard, incorporating many different moves into his attack. Duncan was often the most powerful piece on the board, but one willing to sacrifice himself when the opportunity for a greater good arose.

But what separated the Spurs was Popovich’s ability to extract as much value as possible from his pawns. From Danny Green to Tiago Splitter, Popovich has a way of coordinating each role player to augment their abilities.

As the clock struck 3:30 am, Death finally cornered Popovich into a checkmate. Death removed his hood and shook hands with his opponent, who poured another glass of wine. Popovich flashed a victorious smile, as he did after each of these meetings. It was something that always puzzled Death.

Patty Mills, who scored 17 points and nailed five three-pointers during the clinching NBA Finals victory, celebrates the NBA championship with his coach, Gregg Popovich. (AP Images)

No one loves chess enough to be so happy after this many losses, yet you smile every time, Death said. My company is rarely welcome, and with the time spent here you could have been preparing for your basketball game.

Popovich poured some wine in the second glass and slid it, along with his game notes, across the table. Death picked up the packet, flipping through empty page after empty page, again puzzled.

I might never win, but these games are never wasted time, Popovich said. If you’re here, I can rest easy knowing where you’re not. And every minute you’re not with my players is another one I can put them on the court.

Looking over his notes had been a rouse. The Spurs opponent was never the Dallas Mavericks, or Oklahoma City Thunder, or Heat. They can’t control what teams rise and fall around them, they’ve seen so many come and go that they’re all the same anyhow. The Spurs can’t control when their time is up either, but they can try to delay it. In that, the only real opponent in these playoffs was their own bodies and time.

Victories then cannot be measured in titles—the Spurs have already won a good share—but in opportunities. Another season playing at a high level is a small victory in a game everyone will ultimately lose anyways.

With the night done, Popovich put his glass up and jacket on, turning to his seated friend as he walked out the door.

Thanks for another game. I have to go, but you should have a drink. No one will be around to think any less of you.

With that, Popovich left Death seated alone in the office, a packet of blank pages in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Death took a sip and smiled. One day he would miss this.

NBA Finals vs. Heat

Game 1

June 5, 2014 • San Antonio, Texas

Spurs 110, Heat 95

Heat Can’t Handle the Heat

Duncan’s Play, Green’s Late Threes Help Spurs Overcome Adverse Conditions

Inside a sweltering AT&T Center during the 110–95 San Antonio Spurs win, an exhausted LeBron James looked on from the bench, powerless to help his teammates stem a 23–7 run the Spurs used to close the game.

James remains the most remarkable athlete in the NBA, if not the entire world—an unparalleled combination of size, strength, speed, and explosiveness. But like the Achilles of Greek mythology, the basketball gods that blessed James with such an impressive physique also built in one weakness, which he often wears emblazoned across his chest: Heat.

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