This titanic Thunder-Spurs showdown is proving merit matters more than market

Atlantic76ersCelticsKnicksNetsRaptorsCentralBucksBullsCavaliersPacersPistonsSoutheastHawksHeatHornetsMagicWizardsSouthwestGrizzliesMavericksPelicansRocketsSpursNorthwestJazzNuggetsThunderTimberwolvesTrail BlazersPacificClippersKingsLakersSunsWarriorsScores & ScheduleStandingsThe Bounce NewsletterNBA DraftPodcastsFantasyNBA OddsNBA PicksWhat's Next For Lakers?Hollinger's Top ProspectsVecenie's Mock DraftNBA Playoffs This Western Conference finals features the 31st- and 47th-ranked media markets in the U.S. It still feels as big as any series in recent memory — and is drawing the ratings to back it up. Alex Slitz / Getty Images Share articleOKLAHOMA CITY — Nothing about this series feels small. Intimate, sure, as the roar of Oklahoma City fans rattles the Paycom Center. Charming, indeed, as Thunder fans belted along with Sia on David Guetta’s “Titanium” with Wednesday’s Game 2 victory in these Western Conference finals all but secured. But small doesn’t fit as a descriptor, even in the 47th-largest market in America. This series, these figures, promised and are producing some of the highest levels of basketball the NBA has ever seen. The presence of Victor Wembanyama carries its own magnitude. He’s the man who makes this occasion monumental. His penchant for highlights as unreal as stop-motion graphics, like when he turned a floater into a tip-dunk, recalls past legends while revealing future dimensions. The pressure on Shai Gilgeous-Alexander sprinkles healthy tension into this budding rivalry. Unlike Wembanyama, who’s already impressed in his postseason debut, the two-time MVP lugs the burden of expectation in pursuit of a second title. Anything shy of dominance generates disappointment. His efficacy revived Wednesday. Gilgeous-Alexander’s 30 points and 9 assists in Oklahoma City’s 122-113 victory answered the bell and set this series down a path of riveting. Through two games, this series packs drama and magnitude worthy of the NBA Finals. The home of the Thunder, one of the gems of American sports, honored the tradition of the Boston Garden, the Forum in Inglewood, the United Center and Oracle Arena — home courts with enough personality to leave an imprint. In Game 1, Wembanyama went extraterrestrial. In Game 2, Stephon Castle punctured Isaiah Hartenstein’s soul with one of the best postseason facials ever seen, Alex Caruso concocted another gem and injuries on both sides added complexity to the strategy. The future of NBA basketball sparkled in America’s heartland. Two of the league’s unsexiest franchises are putting on a spectacle that’s shaping up to be one for the ages, arousing a fervor worthy of all-time great clashes. This series defies the traditional small-market ceiling. It’s redefining the ethos of entertainment value being married to the population. We’ve been conditioned to view this outcome as suboptimal. Two small-market teams on the game’s biggest stages tend to prompt an involuntary reach for the remote — a product of being indoctrinated by dynasties. Captivating a metropolis exponentiates visibility and, inevitably, expands appeal. Small markets long served as mere stepping stones, proving grounds for superstar hopefuls and talent factories for big-market franchises. Revolution, however, seems to be in progress, driven by the NBA’s parity of opportunity philosophy. This series doesn’t come with videos of cheering throngs packed like sardines in the streets. These teams don’t boast fan bases that fill bars across the nation. But what it lacks in volume it makes up for in vivacity. These West finals now shift to the 31st-largest market in the U.S. Yet, this series summarily rejects the stereotype of inferior, under-resourced teams leaning on smarts and unity to overcome disparity. What’s missing from the ball of small markets is the underlying cultural wars that come with populous cities. The social and political lines are written in the storylines with invisible ink. Big Hollywood versus Blue-collar. Silicon Valley versus the Rust Belt. Urban versus rural. Still, the atmosphere rises to a magnetic level. The arenas swell with a passionate local rally vibe, a point-to-prove energy that pitches a bit higher because it comes from a bit deeper. They jeer the refs and the opponent with a protagonist’s indignation and punctuate their team’s runs with blaring approval. This is big-time hoops in a small-town setting. Elite basketball lacquered in grassroots zeal. Last summer, the audience warmed to the playing styles and the atmospheres of Oklahoma City and Indiana in the NBA Finals. By the end of the series, the ratings peaked at nearly 20 million — the highest since the Golden State Warriors dynasty. These West finals didn’t need to build momentum. It produced the most-watched Game 1 of that series in NBA history, with an average of 9.2 million viewers. Would this series be even more magnified if Wembanyama played for Chicago and SGA led the defending champions in Philadelphia? Of course. But NBA fans may as well get used to these annual forays into cozier communities. The NBA rewrote its code since Golden State assaulted sensibilities with its dynasty. Stephen Curry and LeBron James monopolizing the grandest stage, the league owners determined, wasn’t ideal. Salary cap mechanisms and punitive tax aprons didn’t aim to merely punish but prevent big-market owners with no regard for expenses from controlling fates with wallets. They replaced the superteams with parity of opportunity, loosening the glamour markets’ grip on NBA glory. The league preferred the NFL model of competitive balance, where every team can conceive a championship without the aid of delusion. The plan produced this: Oklahoma City versus San Antonio. Both burgeoning dynasties. Both outside the top-30 markets in America, tucked in the gut of the nation, where pride ferments and simplicity is a virtue. Far from the grandeur and gravity of the coasts. Absent the ingrained allure of the NBA’s marquee franchises. The Thunder, once lovable risers, now wear the black hat, having morphed into the villain before our eyes because of their rampant success and perceived advantages with the refs. But Oklahoma City built a champion through its farm system. After getting its heart ripped out by the 2016 departure of Kevin Durant, general manager Sam Presti eventually shunned the star-chasing route and built his own through the draft. He stockpiled resources, cashing in on futile seasons by nailing his draft picks and slow-cooking a winner — one the fan base could watch grow up. The intimacy between the audience and its team, almost collegiate in essence, adds some juice to the wins and losses. And when the salaries approach levels beyond their spending appetite, the Thunder can maneuver without starting over thanks to Presti’s collection of talent and draft picks. It’s a formula that did more than allow Oklahoma City to compete with the NBA’s big pockets, which build contenders through free agency and acquire massive contracts. The Thunder’s approach is the envy of the league. Not coincidentally, Presti is from the San Antonio executive tree. The Spurs’ model is perhaps the most replicated in the NBA. But they find themselves here because of their remarkable draft luck. For the third time in 40 years, the Spurs had a generational talent fall into their laps. From David Robinson to Tim Duncan to Wembanyama — franchise pillars earned by draft lottery luck. Wembanyama is the kind of exceptional player that lures even casual fans. The hype follows him to South Texas. Game 1 felt like the dawn of something special, coated by Wembanyama’s magic. It had all the elements of jousting juggernauts. The question — after the NBA legislated away the advantages of big markets and their vast pockets — was whether a series like this could draw on its merits and not on its markets. But these teams are proving to have the ingredients to generate the appeal that their locations may not. Because the NBA didn’t eliminate superpowers as much as it changed who gets to build them, we’re watching two of them clash now. And what we’ve seen so far in this series suggests this rivalry could define a generation. Everything about that feels big. Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms