Kevin Durant and the Myth of Michael Jordan’s America
by David J. Leonard | NewBlackMan
With game #3 in the NBA finals set for tonight, and the series in question, one thing not in question is that the league has finally found its Michael Jordan for the twenty-first century. While others have fallen short for a number of reasons, it seems that Kevin Durant is on the precipice of following in Air Jordan’s footsteps.
Although the NBA lockout marked the end of this search, given the league’s focus on team rivalries over superstars, it now clear that Kevin Durant has taken the mantle. Irrespective of who ultimately wins the series, Kevin Durant has already been declared the winner of America’s next best commodifiable baller. His reign is not so much about basketball but the narrative, the embedded racial meaning, his appeal in “red state America,” and the representational possibilities available with Durant. Clearly LeBron James’ basketball resume is on the same level; in fact, with multiple MVP awards, endless skill, and an ability to dominate each and every game at both ends of the floor, LB6 has game that is once in generation. The same cannot be said for KD35, whose skills are unimpeachable yet his power and resonance rests with the story and ideological confirmation he provides the league and countless fans.
Since MJ’s retirement, the league, its marketing partners, and fans alike have pinned for someone to fill his AIR Jordans. Each anointed as the next Michael Jordan, Penny Hardaway, Grant Hill, Vince Carter, and Harold Miner (“Baby Jordan”) all failed to deliver because of injuries, limited production, or a combination of both. Each in their own right was imagined as a player who could fill the shoes, whose talents, charisma, and athleticism would propel the NBA during its post-Jordan era. None of them met these expectations resulting in an NBA in continued search for a twenty-first century basketball God.
Kobe Bryant and LeBron James each took the mantle of the next Jordan to places none of the other NMJ (next Michael Jordan) had reached. Kobe, because of his talents, the ways in which he patterned his game and demeanor after Jordan, his quest for rings, and most importantly his competitiveness, all elevated the comparisons, leading many to argue that he was the NMJ. Yet because of Eagle County, Colorado, because of his conflicts with Shaquille O’Neal and the ultimate demise of the Lakers Dynasty, and because he is said to have demanded to get out of Los Angeles, Kobe has fallen short in other’s quest to find the next Michael Jordan. Like Kobe, LeBron James has delivered on the court, dazzling fans with his passing skills, his athleticism, and his ability to make his teammates better. Worse than struggling to secure a title, LeBron James fell short in the MJ sweepstakes when he decided to take his talents to South Beach. Simply exercising his rights of free agency meant that James was no longer eligible for Jordan status within the national imagination.
While possessing the skills, charisma, and baller potential, the two most promising players to lead the NBA, to build upon the global popularity established by Jordan, have fallen short not because of any basketball deficiency, but their inability (or our inability) to fill some mythical shoes. The quest to find the Next Michael Jordan, thus, has nothing to do with basketball but rather is part of an effort to find a player who reinforces popular narratives about the American Dream, the protestant work ethnic, and post-racialness.
Jordan, only seen in public in his basketball uniform or a $3,000-dollar suit, Jordan embodied the politics of racial respectability on and off the court. He “allow[ed] us to believe what we wish to believe: that in this country, have-nots can still become haves; that the American dream is still working” (Ken Naughton quoted in Andrews 2000, p. 175). David Falk, Jordan’s agent, celebrated the dialectics between his dominance in the marketplace, his worldwide popularity, and racial identity in illustrative ways:
When players of color become stars they are no longer perceived as being of color. The color sort of vanishes. I don’t think people look at Michael Jordan anymore and say he’s a black superstar. They say he’s a superstar. They totally accepted him into the mainstream. Before he got there he might have been African American, but once he arrived, he had such a high level of acceptance that I think that description goes away (Quoted in Rhoden, 2006, p. 204).
Amid the 1980s and 1990s, amid Reagan’s dismantling of America’s safety net and his elevation of the War on Drugs, Jordan provided more than a wicked jump shot, playing a lead role in the Republican Revolution. He was “cast as a spectacular talent, midsized, well-spoken, attractive, accessible, old-time values, wholesome, clean, natural, not too goody-two shoes, without a bit of deviltry in him” (Falk quoted in Andrews 2001, p. 125).
Imagined as emblematic of the power and importance of “personal drive, responsibility, integrity, and success,” as opposed to “the stereotypical representations of deviant, promiscuous, and irresponsible black males,” Jordan’s racially transcendent, colorblind-driven, raceless image was always tied to racial language. He represented the possibility of acceptance by whites (racial transcendence), which meant he was able to “transcend his own race” (Rhoden 2006, p. 204), or better said, constraints of the “facts of blackness.”
The longstanding struggle for the next Jordan has been a journey in search of the next the “Africanized Horatio Alger” (Patton quoted in McDonald, 2001, p. 157) to lead the NBA. The search has failed in part because of the inability of the next generation of players to fulfill the imagined narrative and qualities associated with Jordan. Michael Jordan was the leader of an “army of athletes who possess the (new) right stuff with modest beginnings, skill, and personal determination” (McDonald 2001, p.157). In the dominant imagination, several players have had the game and even the success on the court yet failed to deliver the story and image. Kevin Durant, with his decision to stay in OKC, his “nerd chic” clothing, his globetrotting from flag football games to the Rucker during the NBA lockout, and his overall image, possesses the right stuff.
The anointing of Kevin Durant illustrates how the search for America’s next Michael Jordan has less to do with basketball and is all about the narrative, the ideology, and the overall mythical representation embodied by Jordan. David Heeb, in “NBA Lockout 2011: Searching for the Next Michael Jordan,” encapsulates the narrative and ideological elements central to the proverbial MJ Search:
So after all these years, we are still looking for "The Next Jordan." Will we ever see another player that great? Maybe not, but the first thing we have to understand is, when looking for "The Next Jordan," we have to stop looking for guys that look like Jordan. Instead, we have to look at what made Jordan tick. What made him burn to be great? We all know the story of how he was cut from his high school basketball team, and how he couldn't beat his older brother Larry in the backyard one-one games they would play. We all heard the Hall of Fame speech, where Jordan recalled how he remembered even the slightest challenges to his greatness. Michael Jordan was the kind of guy that got out of bed every morning looking for a challenge. He looked for hurdles to jump over. He searched for mountains to climb. If there were no worthy opponents, he just invented insults, so he could say he had to prove himself all over again . . . . That doesn't change the fact that Kevin Durant might be "Next." Jordan had a "love of the game" clause in his contract, permitting him to play pickup basketball whenever he wanted to. Durant, like Jordan, loves the game. He will play anytime, anyplace, and against anybody. We have seen him this summer playing pickup basketball all across the country.
Durant’s rise as the NMJ was almost derailed over when fans and the media wondered if he was more AI than MJ. Over the summer, controversy erupted when Kevin Durant revealed that his back and stomach were covered in tats. The sight of Durant, often celebrated as “one of the good ones” (in this article he is noted to be “likable” and “humble”) covered in tats brought into question his acceptance into the “good black athlete” club. Could the next MJ have tats? Given the response then and his anointing, the answer appears to be yes, as long as they aren’t visible. Eric Freemen reflects on the meaning of his tattoos, their placement, and the changing level of acceptance of NBA tats. Yet, he concludes by arguing that Durant’s tats should cause little to his marketing potential and fan popularity in part because he is different.
It's tempting to say that Durant is trying to hide his tattoos to appeal to a larger market of fans, but it's possible that he just prefers to put tattoos on his torso and not his extremities. Plus, we've reached a point as basketball fans where tattoos are not an automatic sign of a thug. They're perfectly normal and a common feature of the league's most popular players. LeBron James is covered in tattoos, but any marketing issues he has are tied to his lack of a championship, not the belief that he's a gang member. That point of view is thankfully a thing of the past.
Whatever the case, Durant's tattoos prove that he's not the squeaky clean figure many people make him out to be. As I've said before, he has an edgy streak. He has a lot more in common with the rest of the NBA than many people are willing to admit.
The constant references to his doing it the right way, his humility, his team orientation, and his lack of ego speaks to his power not only as a marketable commodity but as a vehicle of ideological meaning. Basketball is almost secondary, a fact that has been quite clear throughout the finals with the constant juxtaposition of Durant and James as a battle between good and evil. Berry Trammel describes the series as one straight out of Hollywood
But Good vs. Evil makes an appearance, too. Dwight Howard, back when he wore a white hat, and the starless Pistons, both against the Kobe Lakers. But in this Star Wars Finals that comes to Oklahoma City, it’s not just Good vs. Evil. It’s Lovable vs. Evil. It’s America’s sweethearts against the Galactic Empire. It’s the Thunder skywalkers — these barely grown guys who let out war whoops after big buckets and grow funky beards and wear shirts straight out of Urkel’s garage sale – against the Darth Vaders. Miami Heat? Miami Hate is more like it. The Thunder is the team America loves to love. The Heat is the team America loves to see lose.
Likewise, Nicholas Schwartz, with “The Heat-Thunder Series Reveals One Troubling Truth About How We Think About Sports,” notes how the media has gone to great lengths to narrate the 2012 finals as a competition between two different ways of life: “The 2012 NBA Finals have been cast as a battle between good and evil. The Oklahoma City Thunder represent the hard-working team that evolves organically and ‘does things the right way,’ And the Miami Heat represent all that is wrong with the NBA.”
While pundits have constructed the matchup as one between the lovable Thunder and the hateable Heat, the true meaning comes from the attached narratives assigned to Durant and James. According to CBS sports, “Durant has never been about glitz and glamour. His winning combination has been humility and hard work, and it may soon pay off. The Thunder need four more wins to win a championship in only their fourth season in Oklahoma City and fulfill Durant's ultimate goal.“ Melissa Rohlin concurs, making clear that Durant’s appeal rests not just with his silky 3 or his timely buckets but the image and narrative surrounding him, all of which is wrapped up in the meanings of race within the dominant white imagination: “Despite Durant's ascension, he has remained humble. He is one of the few superstars in the league who speaks to reporters before games. Most of the league's other stars avoid the media until after the game.” Humility appears to be as important as post moves for NBA commentators, making clear how race fits into this discussion; do we see the same demands of and celebration for humility in others sports, not too mention in Hollywood, on Wall Street, or in the halls of Congress?
The inability of LeBron, Kobe and Carmelo to attract Jordan level fan support prompted systemic change with the 2011 lockout. The fears that Dwight Howard, Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, and Derrick Rose might follow in their footsteps not only contributed to the lockout but changed the ways in which the NBA and its partners sought after the next Jordan. In the end, the presumed failures of the players to deliver off the court contributed to this shift. The low q-ratings of these players, and claims about player betrayals of fans mandated a system change that has traded a league organized around superstars to one more focused on parity and competitiveness.
Yet amid all of these changes, KD35 emerged as a superstar on the court (scoring championship + winning) and the media, league, and fans took from there, refashioning Durant as the next Jordan. He has become the next Jordan not just in game but also as a free-floating racial signifier. Just as the MJ emanated from dominant representations of blackness, Durant’s ascendance is wrapped up in the Palace Brawl, hip-hop, white racial framing, and the meaning of blackness in the twenty-first century. Whereas Kobe or LeBron embody an aesthetic, a swagger, and a demeanor that is continually pathologized and demonized (yes, Skip Bayless I am talking to you), Kevin Durant and Blake Griffin function as points of comparison; depicted as humble, team oriented, and likable, they are able to become Jordan-esque.
Yes, KD35 has game, but what is celebrated is neither the game nor the man but his perceived meaning within the dominant white imagination. It ain’t about lovin the player, but loving their game.
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David J. Leonard is Associate Professor in the Department of Critical Culture, Gender and Race Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums. His work explores the political economy of popular culture, examining the interplay between racism, state violence, and popular representations through contextual, textual, and subtextual analysis. Leonard’s latest book After Artest: Race and the Assault on Blackness was just published by SUNY Press.
