My Life, My Fight Read online

  Dre and I were only in the city for a few days before we flew out to Orlando for NBA Summer League. But those few days were enough for me to decide that Oklahoma City was the perfect place for me. And it was the perfect place because it was boring.

  That sounds like an unkind thing to say, but I mean it as a compliment. To be fair, it’s not so much boring as it is relatively free of distractions. I was a young kid at the start of his career who suddenly didn’t have to worry about money. The worst thing for me would have been to move to a city with a thousand events on every night and a lot of places to spend all that money. I didn’t have expensive tastes, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have gotten distracted living somewhere like New York or Chicago. Oklahoma City was perfect because the only thing to do there was play basketball. Play basketball or play Xbox at home and connect online with Dre, who was also a big gamer.

  I nearly missed out on playing our first Summer League game because I didn’t have insurance. It was all taken care of in the OKC contract, but there was something I hadn’t signed yet. The front office rushed the papers to me at the stadium just before the game and I pretty much signed them on the sidelines then ran straight on court. That was my first taste of the business of basketball. I wasn’t allowed to play a second of basketball until I had signed that contract in case I got injured and the Thunder lost money on medical expenses or something. To be honest, I didn’t really know what I was signing, but I trusted my agents and scribbled my signature on what was put in front of me. I did take a moment to scan the pages and put an interested look on my face, but in fact I had no idea what I was reading. I assume it was all fine since I still have a job.

  On the court, everything ran a lot smoother. Summer League is for players who would benefit from more court time. It’s usually a mix of rookies and new players yet to start, plus some standouts from the development league squad. Our team was really good and included Reggie Jackson and Jeremy Lamb, who were some of the league’s top scorers at the end of the week. I had a solid week, playing four of the five games and holding my own against young centers who had already played a year in the NBA. We won all our games and were crowned Summer League champs, a perfect start to my Thunder career.

  Getting to play at that pace for a whole week was good, but what was better was getting coaching from Mark Bryant, or MB, as he’s known. He is a former pro player who spent 15 years in the NBA before going straight into coaching. When I joined the Thunder, he was the assistant coach and specifically in charge of the forwards. At 6′9″ and twice as wide as me, he wasn’t a coach who just gave instructions. He put you through the drills himself. And he was responsible for getting me ready for the big leagues.

  Whenever I was subbed out of a game, I made sure to go to the end of the bench so I could sit next to MB and ask him what I could be doing better. Every game he had something for me to work on or try out. I never questioned what he told me because it always seemed to work when I executed it properly. As the years have gone on, MB and I have had our share of disagreements, but we both know that we’re on the same team. All it takes is for him to stop what we’re doing, look at me for a second, and say, “What are we doing?” He doesn’t mean it literally, it’s more a “What are we here for?” And it always brings me out of whatever mood I’m in. What are we doing? Sometimes all you need to do is ask yourself that when you’re in a slump. What are we doing? Once you can answer it honestly, your problem is half solved.

  By the end of the Summer League, MB was calling me “Big Steve” and the name stuck. I was Big Steve and he was MB. The way he talked to me—not as if I was an idiot but like an adult—and the way he conducted himself, made me like and respect him straight away. I knew that as the bigs coach he would be spending a lot of time with me. He reminded me of Kenny and that told me all I needed to know. I was in safe hands at the Thunder.

  12.

  SMALL FISH IN A BIG POND

  Three days before the start of the 2012–13 season, the Oklahoma City Thunder traded James Harden to the Houston Rockets. In exchange, the Rockets gave the Thunder a whole bunch of players and picks, including the number 12 pick in the 2013 draft. Harden was the reigning sixth man of the year and a huge asset to the team when he got traded, so fans were hoping for a Harden replacement with the draft pick. I’m nothing like James Harden.

  I wasn’t booed the way some players are, especially those who are drafted by the New York Knicks, but Thunder fans weren’t exactly jumping out of their seats with excitement. Fans and media seemed to be in agreement that I wasn’t a bad draft pick, but I wasn’t going to be very helpful for at least a couple of years. Talk of the “D-League” got thrown around a lot when discussing my rookie year. Now known as the G League, it is the NBA’s development league that runs alongside the regular season. Teams will send a player to the G League to work on their game or get some time on the court if management feel they are not ready for the big league just yet. Sometimes players can do both, playing in G League games and NBA games in the same week. Thunder media and fans figured I’d be sent to the Thunder’s G League team—then the Tulsa 66ers, now the OKC Blue—for at least my first season because I was “too raw and undeveloped” for the Thunder. I also saw a lot of NBA “experts” popping up in New Zealand saying it was a curse being drafted by a playoff team because it meant I’d be sent to the development league and might never make it back.

  I heard all the commentary and I ignored all the commentary. I found out later that the moment I was drafted someone tweeted “WELP STEVEN ADAMS TO OKC” and Kevin Durant apparently replied “smh” (“shaking my head”). He deleted the tweet and replaced it with “Welcome Steven Adams.” Not the warmest welcome I’d ever received, but my new teammates’ feelings about me weren’t my concern. My responsibility was working hard with the coaches to earn my spot on the roster for the regular season. Having MB right there on the bench throughout the Summer League meant I already had a long list of things to work on once I got back to Oklahoma City. But, first, it was back to New Zealand for the northern summer and my first unofficial Steven Adams Camp.

  Everyone on the Thunder roster was on summer break and spread out across the country so I had some time to relax. And whenever I have time to relax, I want to go home. I told Mats that I wanted to go home and help out Kenny with his new basketball program, New Zealand Basketball Academy (NZBA), and we came up with the idea of holding a training camp for kids in Wellington. Brook Lopez from the Brooklyn Nets shared the same agent and came along as our guest and all-star coach.

  OKC TEAM ROSTER 2013–14

  STEVEN ADAMS, center

  CARON BUTLER, forward

  NICK COLLISON, forward

  KEVIN “KD” DURANT, forward

  DEREK FISHER, guard

  SERGE IBAKA, forward

  REGGIE JACKSON, guard

  GRANT JERRETT, forward

  PERRY JONES, forward

  JEREMY LAMB, guard

  KENDRICK “PERK” PERKINS, center

  ANDRE “DRE” ROBERSON, guard

  THABO SEFOLOSHA, guard

  HASHEEM THABEET, center

  RUSSELL “RUSS” WESTBROOK, guard

  The camp was just the one day at the ASB Sports Centre, but seeing 250 kids so passionate about basketball made it worth the trip. I fell in love with the mentoring side of the game and decided right there that I would grow the camp every year to try to reach as many young players as possible.

  While I was back in New Zealand I went to see Mohi and spent a day on the farm. We drove around on quad bikes in the rain feeding the animals. I put up some photos online of our outing and was bombarded with messages saying that the Thunder management would be mad that I was placing myself at risk. It was my first insight into how protective organizations are of their players. Given they are paying us millions of dollars, I suppose the least we can do is not risk falling off a quad bike.

  On my way back to Oklahoma I stopped in Portland to do a promo for adidas, who had
recently signed me on as an ambassador. Gav met me and we did a presentation for the adidas guys on how we had trained before the draft. I could see they were amazed that they were being taught things about basketball training and injury prevention from some random guy from New Zealand. I was so proud in that moment because it showed that I wasn’t just working with a competent trainer, I was working with one of the best in the business.

  By the time I had made my way back to Oklahoma City and settled into my new home, it was time for the Thunder training camp.

  It was as hard as any training I had done on the court, but what made it horrific was the same thing that made it more enjoyable than most. That was the mental workout. Yes, I sweated and puffed more than ever—and I was supposedly at my fittest going in—but it was learning all the systems and how to adapt to them that knocked me out. Luckily, I knew that I was pretty much a clean slate and so was ready to soak up everything that anyone said. Some rookies come straight from being a superstar in their college team and have to adjust to being at the bottom of the totem pole. My advantage was that I was comfortable there and I knew how little I knew. There is nothing wrong with being ignorant, as long as you know it and are willing to learn.

  It became clear to me that my main influences throughout the season would be MB, Kendrick “Perk” Perkins, and Nick Collison. Nick and Perk had each been in the league for a decade already (Perk had a championship ring too) playing my position, and they knew that I had been brought in to eventually (hopefully) fill their role. Nick seemed happy to guide me through the systems and to try to get me up to speed as fast as possible. Perk? Not so much.

  Perk’s a big guy and he’s tough too. He’s not about that friendly banter. MB had been working with me hard out to prepare for training, but with Perk it was still a shock. That guy can throw his weight around. I was used to playing in New Zealand against short rugby players who like to throw themselves at you, but at least I was bigger and could sort them out quite easily. Suddenly, I was the smaller one and here was Perk practically assaulting me every day at practice. It was time to adapt or die, and I wasn’t ready to lie down just yet. I started to fight back. If he was going to tug shirts and hold down arms, so was I. He might have been bigger, but I had speed on him and would use that to annoy him. By the end of training camp, I thought I’d made good progress. Perk wasn’t pushing me around as much and I was giving as good as I got. Maybe I was giving too much because as we were finishing up a scrimmage we got tangled up off the ball and I may have accidentally elbowed him. He retaliated by throwing a massive elbow into my ribs, winding me and yelling, “I’m the only silverback!”

  I was stunned. I thought I heard some of the other guys laughing, but I was too busy worrying that Perk would keep going and just kill me to save time. I had had scuffles with opponents, but this was a whole new level—and he was on the same team as me. Walking back to the changing rooms to shower, I realized I would have to get a whole lot tougher if I was going to match up against NBA centers throughout the league. As I was packing up to leave the gym for the day, MB wandered by and muttered, “You know silverbacks have the smallest dicks, right?” It cracked me up. I didn’t even know if it was true, but it reassured me that I must be doing something right.

  I never spoke to Perk about that wee incident again. The next day he came into training and we said hello and got back to smashing each other on the court like usual. Perk was never one to hold grudges. If you annoyed him, he’d tell you, then expect everyone to get back to work. I followed his lead and didn’t dwell on it. I figured I’d get much more of the same once the season started so I might as well get used to it. Turns out, the most pain I felt early in that season was when someone pointed out that the Thunder media team had Photoshopped my gold tooth out of my media day headshot like it was a pimple or something. Thankfully, they never did it again.

  Looking back, Perk was the best teammate I could’ve hoped for in my rookie season. I went into training camp playing physical ball because I thought that’s what the league would be like. But Perk was even tougher than I expected, and he forced me to quickly up my game. If I had gone to a team without a huge presence at center already, things might have worked out differently. As it happened, I went into our first U.S. preseason game expecting a much more physical game than I got.

  It was in fact our third preseason game because we had already played two in Europe against Istanbul and the 76ers, which we won. I didn’t really count them, though, since it felt like I was on holiday.

  It was also the first home game of the season—playing the Denver Nuggets—and I was nervous. The other guys didn’t seem too pumped because preseason games don’t count towards a team’s final win–loss tally, but those preseason games were my chance to show that I could handle being in the Thunder squad for the regular season. I went out and played as hard as I could, which turned out to be harder than anyone wanted to face during the preseason warm-up games.

  The game was going well. We had a commanding lead from the beginning. Perk was resting (remember, it was preseason) so Hasheem Thabeet started in his place. I played 18 minutes and spent most of that time struggling to keep up with the plays. At the start of the fourth quarter, I found myself once again behind on the play, stranded in the middle of the key, with Nick handling the ball at the top of the key. He motioned for me to set an off-ball screen for Derek Fisher, who was on the wing, and I listened. Derek cut sharply to the hoop off my shoulder and Nate Robinson, who was guarding him, followed and ran into me before falling over. Derek ended up with the ball and shot it, so I went to get the rebound, but Robinson was still there. Without thinking I kind of picked him up and moved him to the side so I could get to the basket. I felt a push on my back and then, as I ran back down the court after Derek made the shot, I took another hit on my chest.

  It didn’t feel like much at all. In fact, I figured it was just someone turning around and nudging me accidentally so I kept running back to position. When I got there and turned around, Robinson was being ejected. I thought he must have yelled at the ref and was sad I missed it. Then I saw on the replay that he got ejected for punching me. So that’s what the nudge was.

  After the game I asked MB and the guys if I’d done something wrong that made Robinson angry. They laughed and told me to keep doing what I was doing. I did, and went home happy to have helped out the team, albeit in an unconventional way.

  The next game, against the New Orleans Pelicans, I was rewarded with more minutes, playing nearly the whole game that ended in a three-point loss. It was my first taste of the endurance required to play at that level and, even at the slower tempo of preseason, I was gassed by the end. But I managed to get a game-high 15 rebounds to show the coaches that when I was given a task, I could complete it efficiently. My task certainly wasn’t to score, not with KD on the court.

  By the end of preseason, I was feeling a little more comfortable on court and regularly topping the rebounding stats. At this point, nobody had said anything to me about playing in the development league and I wasn’t about to bring it up, so I showed up to training every day and as long as no one told me not to, I showed up to the games.

  Dre Roberson and I were the two rookies on the roster that season, so were each given a senior player to “assist” on road trips, although we really had to do what everyone said, not just our veteran buddies. Dre was paired up with Perk, and I had Russell Westbrook. You hear stories about the hazing that has happened at other teams—the ritual humiliation of the newbies. There was nothing like that. The Thunder culture is more family than fraternity, so the only form of rookie hazing was just stuff that little brothers would be expected to do for their elders. I carried Russ’s bags to the plane and picked him up food on the way if he requested it. Dre got fined a bunch of times for being late to the plane because Perk had ordered food from him. Fines are $750 for a first offense, then $3,000, $5,000, and on and on. I was always on time.

  The Thunder plane is amazing. It ba
rely counts as a disadvantage having to travel when you get to fly on a private plane with recliners and tables and a stocked pantry. Once we landed in a city for an away game everyone would go to their own hotel rooms before having a shootaround. I never took my own shampoo or body wash because the hotels would have all that stuff. But almost everyone else in the team was a bit more particular about their grooming, including Russ. Let’s just say that I purchased a lot of body wash that season which I never got to use.

  I don’t remember much about my first ever regular season debut. I know it was against the Utah Jazz because I had a real nice New Zealand steak there that made me like the place. There were a lot more fans than during preseason, but at the same time it didn’t feel like a huge occasion because I’d technically already played six games with the Thunder, including one against the Jazz.

  We won that first regular-season game and I got my first career points, ending with four points and three rebounds while marking a European center called Enes Kanter. A week later I recorded my first double-double during a win against Detroit, with 17 points and 10 rebounds. I didn’t do anything different that game, but after I made my first few shot attempts, Russ kept looking for me inside.

  I was looking forward to our second game that same week against the Dallas Mavericks because it meant I could see my old mate Dirk Nowitzki again. He didn’t remember me enough to say hi and I didn’t want to bother him, but I really felt our friendship grow that day. We won, and I thought that win would be memorable because it marked the first time I got “faded” by Dirk. “Faded” meaning scored on by his signature fadeaway jump shot. Instead it was memorable because I got the legend Vince Carter ejected.

  I didn’t mean to. I never mean to. I caught an offensive rebound in the low post and Carter was guarding me on my left. As every basketball player is taught to do when playing in the low post, I gripped the ball with two hands and stuck my elbows out for protection while I tried to pivot into space. But Carter is 6 6 as opposed to my 7-foot self, so my swinging elbow clocked him on the side of the head before I passed back out for a shot. When the shot went up a second later, I tried to get past Carter again for the rebound and was hit on the cheek on my way through. The whistle blew as I caught the rebound and heard Russ yelling, “He can’t do that shit, man!”