In The NBA Playoffs, Players Win Games, But Teams Win Series

Jimmy Butler has “it”. Whatever it is.

He has a lot of tools in his game, certainly. Without the dominant physical profile of the world’s very top tier or the great shooting range of his more immediate peers, Butler nonetheless has a profound impact on both ends on the court, playing everywhere from point guard to power forward, serving as the embodiment of the 21st century NBA’s gradual shift towards versatile 6’7 wings over 7-foot behemoths. He can defend anybody, he can initiate offense for others, and of course, he has his own bag when required.

More than any aspect of his individual skill set, though, he has “it”.

“It”, nebulous though it sounds, is the great intangible quality so sought after in sports that tends to be most noticeable by its absence. “It” is a complicated trifle of confidence, belief, guts, toughness, gumption and temperament, all drizzled in resilience, an innate desire not just to pay lip service to the idea of doing whatever it takes to win, but actually living it. “It” is an aspirational goal that, probably, it is too late to develop. Some have it, and some do not.

Title contenders certainly need it. And because they had Jimmy Butler, the Miami Heat have been title contenders for the last two years. Nowhere was this more evident than in game six of their most recent Eastern Conference Finals series against the Boston Celtics – in a must-win game, against the NBA’s best defence replete with individual defenders built to slow him, Butler put up 47 points on 29 shots, to go along with 9 rebounds, 8 assists and 4 steals. He was unstoppable.

In game seven, it was much the same again. In yet another win-or-go-home season ender, Butler came through once more, pouring in another 35/9 performance as the fearless go-to guy, and playing every second of every minute. No matter how little he had left in the tank, he found a little more.

But you will likely already know that this time, “it” did not suffice. On the Heat’s final clean chance of the game with 11 seconds to go, Butler took a relatively open pull-up three-pointer with his team down two. It came up short. And as a result, so did his team. The Celtics won game seven and the series, and move on to the NBA Finals. Conversely, the Miami Heat – the second-oldest team in the league with an average age of 29.2 at the time of the Conference Finals – may have just shot their best bolt.

The problem for the Heat was not Butler and his intangibles. The problem was simply that the Celtics had them, too. Jayson Tatum seems to have “it”, alongside one of the best two-way games in modern history. Marcus Smart, flawed though he is, is not one to back down. Al Horford has all the savvy and experience to go with his versatile skills. and is not afraid of laying it all out there either. And so as good as Butler was to get his team in that position, he did not quite have enough to seal the deal. No one individual ever does.

The NBA playoffs lead to great individual and team match-ups in this way by design. These are the battles and the individuals that define basketball – despite it being a team game, having only five players on the court at any one time enhances the impact any one individual can have on the impact of a game. Indeed, in single-game situations, they can damn near win single-handedly. Yet over a series, talent wins out.

It theoretically takes only one or two different bounces of the ball and/or referee decisions for series to be decided the other way. And yet, it never seems to happen. Much as we can, should and do laud the brilliance of any given individual, then, Butler’s heroics serve as a reminder that no amount of will, effort or “it” can decide a series. Defenses, organisations, and a balance of old heads with young legs do.