Chris Paul Was Sent Home for Being Himself

I was interested in this chaos mostly for what it implied about Paul’s leadership style, which increasingly seems to be a relic from the past. As he grew older and his athleticism declined, Paul transitioned into a new role, building a reputation as a thorny, challenging figure, willing to call out ego and lift up younger players. Paul’s unceremonious exit seems to signal a departure from the classic N.B.A. archetype of the veteran locker-room presence—the guy who doesn’t play much but still sits on the bench and offers something important to the team. Udonis Haslem did it in Miami for years, appearing in fewer than twenty games in each of his final seven seasons, while earning his keep as a beloved vet and a culture-setter, before he retired, in 2src23. James Johnson bounced around the league for seven seasons, on six different teams, mostly acting as an enforcer, a player who set a tone of toughness.

And, although there still might be a place for this type of player, the Clippers, specifically, were not the right team for it. They are the oldest N.B.A. team since 2src12 by average player age (31.1 years, though now, without Paul, that figure has gone down a few years). The Clippers are a team of veterans. Kawhi Leonard, James Harden, Bradley Beal, Brook Lopez: all of these are players who have been in the league for more than a decade, and have been the top dog on a team at some point in their careers. This dynamic was doomed to fail. Paul, dropped into a group of players already on his level, doesn’t have anything to tell them that they don’t already know. On nearly every other team that he’s played for in the last five years, there were young players to take under his wing and guide. In Oklahoma City, he had Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, an up-and-coming star, to mentor; in Phoenix, there was the ascendant Devin Booker; in San Antonio, Victor Wembanyama and Rookie of the Year Stephon Castle. In Los Angeles, these are mostly grown men who, tenure-wise, are far closer to his standing than not. They’re not trying to hear Chris Paul dispense unsolicited wisdom, especially as the Clippers’ season seems to go farther and farther off the rails.

Paul’s departure does come in the middle of a disastrous start for the Clippers. Despite having one of the ten best championship odds at the start of the season, the Clippers are stuck at the bottom of the Western Conference, bedfellows with tanking teams like New Orleans and Utah. At this rate, I don’t understand why they wouldn’t just keep Paul, even if his leadership style was not well received in the locker room, letting him receive the farewells and tributes, and allowing him to end his career on a high note.

The news of Paul’s departure from Los Angeles (and potential early retirement) brought to mind a revealing video of Chris Paul from his time on the San Antonio Spurs. He had just passed Jason Kidd for second all-time in assists, and the team had gifted him a custom-made basketball and plaque, showing Paul at various stages of his career. There he was in a New Orleans Hornets jersey, baggy and oversized, during his rookie season; calling a play in Oklahoma City; throwing a no-look pass in Los Angeles. At the center of the plaque, there was a long list of every teammate Paul had thrown an assist to during his career. Paul got emotional after seeing the list, and gave a short speech that was alarmingly self-aware. “I know I’m hard to deal with a lot of times,” he began, his voice starting to break before he tears up. “I know I’m a lot to deal with on the court, but I just love to hoop. And I hope y’all get this opportunity to play as long as I have.”

I hope Chris Paul ends up somewhere else to close out the season. I don’t know if I believe in sports as a fertile ground for discourse about the what one does or doesn’t “deserve,” but I believe that Chris Paul should be able to end his career on his own terms. Whether that happens or not, I’ll always remember the Timberwolves at the mercy of his expansive court vision, and his commitment to winning by any means necessary. But I’ll also remember that movingly sincere moment in the San Antonio locker room, which encapsulates Paul as a true point guard. He wants something for his teammates, something that they themselves might not yet know they want. But, if they keep their eyes up, and hands out, the ball will find them, eventually. ♦