Blogtable: What is your enduring memory of Tim Duncan?

Each week, we’ll ask our stable of scribes across the globe to weigh in on the most important NBA topics of the day — and then give you a chance to step on the scale, too, in the comments below.


BLOGTABLE: More surprising move: Durant’s or Wade’s? | Your lasting memory of Duncan? | Assessing Duncan’s meaning to Spurs?


> Spurs great Tim Duncan retired on Monday after an illustrious 19-year career. What will be your lasting memory about Duncan?

Steve Aschburner, NBA.comTempted to say his incredible ability to play all those games, log all those minutes and win all those titles in San Antonio without ever committing a personal foul. At least that’s how it looked, given his wide-eyed reaction to every whistle against him. But I’ll play this more straight and go with Duncan’s bank shots. Those backboards that we stare at and through in NBA arenas are there for a reason, and no one in the past 20 years put them to better use. His turnaround jumper off the glass is as much a lasting image and patented weapon for him as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar‘s sky hook, Dominique Wilkins‘ slam-back or Stephen Curry‘s 28-footers.

Fran Blinebury, NBA.com: Sheer professionalism, willingness to do anything for the team and an eternal image of that sweet, old school bank shot.

Scott Howard-Cooper, NBA.com: How much the nickname fit: “The Big Fundamental.” Duncan was so sound in almost every way. Offense. Defense. Attitude. Keeping himself ready to play, consistently reaching the high-70s in games. His grounded personality and understated style of play while others preferred trash talking and antics was the ultimate in dependable production speak for itself.

Shaun Powell, NBA.comI’m not sure I’ll see another superstar like Tim Duncan in my lifetime, in that he made so many sacrifices: money, ego, etc., for the sake of the franchise. He played for one coach in 19 years and allowed himself to be coached. He also used the glass constantly — nobody does that. My lasting memory is really an invisible memory. He didn’t take a retirement tour, nor did he hold a press conference to say good-bye. He was a ghost. In this era of look-at-me stars, it was so refreshing, so perfect … so Duncan.

Sekou Smith, NBA.com: There are so many memories of Duncan that flood your brain now that we know his playing career is over. He piled up so many specials games that it’s not even reasonable to choose one from the thousands. But the thing that sticks out to me is the way he handled himself, win or lose, on the biggest stage. The anguish on his face after the Spurs lost to the Miami Heat in The 2013 Finals and then the pure joy he wore a year later when the Spurs avenged that loss and won what would be the last title of his illustrious career will always resonate with me. For a guy who always did his best to keep his emotions bottled up, it was interesting to see him in both instances during the twilight of his Hall of Fame career. The contrast, from one the all-time greats in any sport, was something to see up close and personal.

Ian Thomsen, NBA.com: When Duncan missed the layup near the end of Game 7 of The 2013 NBA Finals, he was never more sympathetic. The reason that image defines him is because he refused to give into it. He increased his focus, the Spurs followed his lead as always, and one year later they were playing to the highest level of championship basketball that many of us have ever seen. Duncan’s professionalism was unmatched.

Lang Whitaker, NBA.com’s All Ball blogOf course, there are dozens of on-court memories of Duncan that I share with millions of other NBA fans. But as someone who has had the good fortune to spent some time with Timmy, I also have off-court moments that come to mind, and one in particular that I think speaks volumes about the type of person that Duncan is away from the game. About five years back, Duncan had agreed to sit down with me for a one-on-one interview when the Spurs were in New York City. Duncan suggested I come to a Spurs shootaround the morning before a game and spend some time with him following the shootaround. So I showed up and waited and waited, until every single player finished and left to return to the hotel. Finally, the last person to leave was Duncan, who walked out drenched with sweat, hustling to board the last bus back the hotel. Duncan saw me and asked if I would mind postponing our interview until that night at the game. It was at this point I reminded the greatest power-forward of all-time that in the midst of the whirlwind of the NBA season, perhaps he had forgotten that it was Valentine’s Day, and I had long-standing plans to take my wife out to dinner that evening. But it was fine, I said: This was my job, and if Duncan wanted to talk that evening, I would be there. Duncan said no. He grabbed his phone and asked me for my number, and a few days later, Duncan called and did the interview over the phone during some of his personal time off. It was a small gesture, but to me it was demonstrative of exactly many of the personal traits which made Duncan so great: empathy, self-awareness, sacrifice. Also, it made my wife really happy, so there was that.

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