Portland, Russell Westbrook, and the Trail Blazers center court logo were treated to one of the most cold-hearted celebrations in NBA history to cap off a late April round-1 Game 5 that will make a beautiful Rewinder on SB Nation in a few years.
It had everything going for it leading up to one of the most incredible shots in playoff history: elimination game, potential game-winner at home, and beef (intense, mouthwatering beef).
Except for one neat wrinkle.
From the moment Westbrook said he’d been “busting that a*s for years,” the purported beef between him and Trail Blazers guard Damian Lillard was basically one-sided, apart from Lillard getting pumped and jawing here and there with the Thunder guard.
You would’ve never thought that Lillard even cared about Westbrook. You might even have been inclined to believe him when he said the stereotypical nothing-compares-to-where-I-came-from statement that’s been used to brush off accusations of beef across the league for years.
That is, until tonight.
From an inconceivable distance, Lillard pulled what Thunder, max-contract guard Paul George would later say was “a bad shot.”
Paul George still believes this to be a bad shot, no matter what you say.
BOOM.
It feels trite and cliche to say, but it is nonetheless true: in a world where everyone says a million words a day, has a thousand takes, and writes a hundred tweets a day, sometimes silence speaks more powerfully than words ever could.
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In the iconic scene near the end of The Godfather, the opposing New York dons are taken down, the only words being those of an unassuming priest baptizing the baby Michael Corleone has chosen to be the godfather of as well as Corleone himself.
There are no words that matter here, apart from knowing the priest is reading baptismal rites.
And there were no words that mattered here, apart from knowing Damian Lillard was cooking all series.
“I do,” Michael repeats throughout, at last donning (sorry) the throne that his father has left him.
It’s a short and succinct gesture that means so much more with the context, that leaves goosebumps in the viewer not just because of the cinematography of the scene, the music, the acting chops of Pacino, but because of everything that led to that moment for the past three hours.
Lillard used 15 of the final seconds on the clock, dribbled at half court, having scored 47 that night and averaging over 28 a game in a dominant series, drilled the biggest shot of his life and gave a short and succinct gesture that encompassed everything.
“Oranges.” – Damian Lillard, probably
When Damian Lillard waved goodbye, it was a more disrespectful gesture than if he had run immediately up to Westbrook and gave him the bird right between his eyes.
It also wouldn’t have made any sense.
It had to be the wave. Nothing else fits Damian Lillard, nothing else could be so apparently cold and unknowing, yet aware and deadly.
In the wild world of the NBA that seems to rival the New York Mafia in The Godfather – with the dons battling for respect and power while trying to coexist – Lillard put the ultimate hit on Westbrook. He took a Colt .45 and shot Westbrook in the chest, from 35 feet, in front of a national audience.
“That was the last word,” Lillard said.
Westbrook being made an offer he just couldn’t refuse.
Damian Lillard: The Godfather.