He grew up a swimmer, so it's easy to imagine young Tim Duncan ripping off lap after lap in some sort of freestyle solitary confinement.
In truth, Duncan stuck around for so long because the communication and camaraderie of being part of a team was so dear to him.
His love for the group made him beloved as a leader.
— Bruce Bowen (@Bowen12) July 11, 2016
The iconic image of Duncan hugging the basketball with both arms before tip-off further suggests a personality more at ease embracing a ball than a teammate.
In hugging that inanimate object, however, Duncan showed his humanity. The reason he did it was irrational.
"It's a superstitious thing that I started, probably my first year in the league," Duncan said in a 2014 Hoop magazine interview. "For nothing else, it is just something I say before the games. Get ready to go."
More important, Duncan was never the guy who had to have the ball in his hands once the game started. His teammates appreciated that about him, too.
One of my lasting memories from Duncan's final playoff series came after LaMarcus Aldridge drove across the lane and wound up right next to Duncan as Aldridge missed an eight-foot hook shot. At the next timeout, Duncan sought out Aldridge and started talking—not about how Aldridge should have stayed out of his area or passed him the ball. Duncan was trying to help Aldridge and figure out how to give him more room to operate.
Duncan wanted to talk to teammates—being the most vocal guy on defense to call out plays or picks—and he kept it light in the locker room or team plane with his dry sense of humor.
"The Big Fundamental" was the opposite of basic in certain team-building ways. Why is he so into cars that he has his own auto customization garage? Because of his fascination with how things work together.
Yet, it should be said, even as we're remembering his career, that the reason he is underappreciated outside of his locker room is partly his own doing.
It is downright amazing that Duncan almost never spoke to reporters in recent seasons—not even in the customary and often cursory postgame interview with local reporters. The NBA rule, for the record, is that all players need to be available once before the game—either at shootaround or pregame—and after the game.
Even if Gregg Popovich sometimes shows disdain for media availability, he at least shows up. Because of his history and standing, Duncan was accorded a pass on most of that stuff.
And if he consciously chooses not to consider you, it's natural that you might choose not to consider him.
He didn't update his official website for the last three years of his career.
He tried to make the most of moments for himself and his team. And that mindset was an important part of his leadership: If this guy doesn't let everybody in, then there's a value to those who are allowed to be part of his club—his teammates, his coaches—that goes beyond the typical bonds of team.
In return, those around Duncan offer respect, loyalty and their best effort to help him.
The question for the future is whether Kawhi Leonard can be the unifying leader Duncan was while maintaining his own reclusive ways. The closed-circle atmosphere in San Antonio, in part driven by Popovich's desire to limit distractions, has been conducive to sheltering Leonard. And as Leonard saw what Duncan was able to get away with, he's been encouraged to keep quiet, too.
But to generate the kind of allegiance Duncan had, there are limits to how closed off one can be.
Popovich has been schooling Leonard, 25, for years, inching him forward to understand the team's bigger picture: By complaining more to referees, there is a benefit for the team. Presumably, Duncan, 40, has been mentoring, too, although neither he nor Leonard is the sort to let others in on such specific secrets.
Either Leonard continues Duncan's legacy of prioritizing teamwork while John Mellencamp's "Small Town" plays proudly inside AT&T Center, or Leonard is revealed as just a great player who doesn't have much to say.
And that latter possibility is something the Duncan legacy does not deserve.
Duncan was much more than that.
He was a winner not only because he was a great talent, but also because he was a great player who knew what to say to build trust with those who mattered most.
Kevin Ding is an NBA senior writer for Bleacher Report. Follow him on Twitter, @KevinDing.
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