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Where did our silly Joker go?
He’s a father, a husband, a $264 million man and the two-time MVP now. Sometimes, the weight of it shows in the slump of his shoulders or impatience in his eyes.
At age 27, entering his eighth NBA season, Nuggets center Nikola Jokic is done messing around, and he has no time for your foolishness.
With guard Jamal Murray riding shotgun again and a healthy Michael Porter Jr. ready to roll, the Nuggets bandwagon is full of expectation and noisy with optimism.
Championship or bust. Right?
Jokic doesn’t want to hear it. Loose talk? That’s cheap.
“Just because we have our players back doesn’t mean we’re going to be better,” Jokic said.
He notes it will take time for Murray to round back into shape after missing 18 months since tearing up his knee. While encouraged MPJ is back on the court, showing no ill effects from chronic back issues, his defense is a work in progress.
After carrying the Nuggets for two seasons, but not getting very far in the playoffs, Jokic has given a different vibe since returning to his NBA team from Serbia. He’s dead serious. Not as quick with a smile. All business since signing that great, big, fat contract extension. Heck, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear our lovable, overgrown kid has morphed into the freakin’ adult in Denver’s locker room.
And this Joker the Grouch is a good thing, methinks.
“Nikola is not always happy. When he was a rookie, everyone called him the Joker. A big, goofy guy, always laughing,” Denver coach Michael Malone said.
“But, you know, things change in eight years. You go from being a rookie trying to figure out what America and the NBA is all about to, ‘Hey, I’m a back-to-back MVP; I’m a husband and I’m a father.’”
The Nuggets are a franchise that’s never been taken seriously as a championship contender. In the prime of his brilliant career, I think Jokic would be happier back in Somber, cleaning out his horse stables. That’s no knock on him because as long as Jokic is here in Colorado, the big guy will roll up his sleeves and get down to the business of making Denver a better basketball city than it has ever been.
“Nikola has been working hard. I’m sure he’s tired. He’s emotionally tired, physically tired,” Malone said. “I think he has the right to be in his mood. He’s not going to have a smile on his face every day, which I’m fine with. One thing I love about him: No matter if he’s in a great mood or not great mood, it never affects his work ethic. That’s all I care about.”
On any given day, it’s becoming harder to find the goofy Joker we’ve known and love. In his edgier moments, which I’ve caught everywhere from training camp in sunny San Diego to the cramped practice court at Ball Arena, the Nuggets center seems to go to a place where he channels the sullen seriousness of Tim Duncan.
“I want to be the Tim Duncan of the Denver Nuggets,” said Jokic, talking about the contract extension that could keep him in the Rocky Mountains for the remainder of his basketball life. “But I need to win a couple championships to be him.”
The Avs raised the Stanley Cup and were the toast of this city. After acquiring quarterback Russell Wilson, the Broncos have fallen flat and gotten roasted. Up next? Jokic steps into the white, hot light of expectation.
Rather than talking about greatness, the Nuggets have to be about all the small things that make a champion. Malone needs Jokic to be a leader willing to kick some tail. Not only when he’s in the mood. All the time.
“He probably has matured into a place where he probably has a little less patience,” Malone said. “With him, it’ is: ‘Fellas, how many times have we talked about the same thing? Let’s go! If we’re really serious about doing the things we want to do, everybody needs to grow the heck up. Take personal ownership and do your job. Hold yourself accountable.’”
On the eve of a season when the Nuggets are supposed to challenge Golden State, Milwaukee and every other contender for the NBA championship, my esteemed colleague Mike Singer asked Jokic why he and his fellow first-teamers can’t seem to beat Denver back-ups during preseason scrimmages.
“I’m going to tell you right now,” Jokic replied, “this is maybe the worst question you’ve asked me in seven years.”
Then, letting the gathered media members know he was only messing with them, Joker smiled, but only for a moment.
If he wants to be the Tim Duncan of Denver, Jokic is going to have to get down to serious business.
He doesn’t care about being the MVP. In fact, he doesn’t particularly like the fuss accompanying the trophy. Jokic, however, wants a championship with such passion that talking about it would only diminish the seriousness of this quest.
That’s my theory, let’s see how it plays out.
Goofy Joker is not gone. That childlike joy for basketball and life can still be found in the big heart of the Nuggets big man.
But know what? I kind of like Joker the Grouch.
He sees how hard it is to get to the top of the NBA heap.
With a baby back home and a team to lead, Jokic has got no time for your foolishness.
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