I’m convinced there’s a small demonination of Spurs fans that remains irrationally confident in Kyle Anderson’s potential. They note the awareness; the versatility; the drive to improve every possession on the margins. They shirk the importance of sheer explosiveness, even in today’s faster-paced game, and (probably) prefer a long-winded Aristocrats joke to a pithy one-liner. These are my people.
Rooting for Anderson can be an exercise in faith — not just in the latent value of wits and fundamentals, but that such a different brand of player can excel in the modern game. It’s a practice of resisting instant gratification, of 30-foot jumpers or audacious lunges at the rim, for meandering, slow-burning possessions.