Kawhi Leonard is destroying the Grizzlies without even pretending to struggle

The Grizzlies tried, bless their hearts. They cut a 26-point first-half deficit to four in the fourth quarter, only for that lead to balloon again into another double-digit loss. They are severely outmatched against the Spurs. Memphis is roaring and trying to make their presence known, gritting and grinding, but Kawhi Leonard, like Ben Carson with his gifted hands, is unafraid.

There are times in life when you can work as hard as possible, give your best, avoid mistakes, and still lose. You can even come up extremely short. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it’s just life and the random chaos of existence. Sometimes systematic and external circumstances factor in, or lack of luck.

In the case of the Grizzlies, sometimes you just run into a T-800 terminator in the form of a man who still wears braids in the year 2017. And there’s nothing you can do about it but take the beating that he hands you.

Leonard finished the game with 37 points on 14 shots. He went 19 for 19 at the free throw line. He has now scored 69 points while going 20 for 28 from the field across two games. He is crushing the spirit of the Grizzlies while looking as interested as a teenager pretending to read the terms and agreements on their new Apple product.

With Tony Allen injured, the Grizzlies don’t have many real options to deter Leonard. Vince Carter is still a solid offensive player at 40 years old — but he’s 40 years old. He may know what he wants to do to stop Leonard, but by the time his brain relays the message to his muscles, and the little men in the control room of his body begin shoving coal into the fire to get his engines moving, Leonard is already past him and at the basket.

The other two options are Wayne Selden and James Ennis. Selden repeatedly got beat off the dribble, and Ennis finished the game with five fouls, so it doesn’t look like the Grizzlies’ plan is working at all.

That’s not to take anything away from Leonard. He’s doing exactly what he should: taking advantage of the mismatch. He’s doing it in surgical fashion, beating his defender with his superior speed and strength, shooting the shots that he wants, and forcing the Grizzlies to foul him in order to slow him down — and then making all of his shots from the charity stripe. It seems simple and unspectacular, at least compared to his flashier counterparts, but his dutiful efforts are equally great.

The persona that’s been assigned to Leonard is that of a robotic, emotionless, and almost boring superstar. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t dance, he doesn’t openly celebrate or even smile most of the time. His press conferences are generic and borderline coach-speak. He goes out and plays basketball. And when he’s not playing in a game, he’s either practicing or waiting for practice and the next game. It’s hard to even imagine what he does away from the sport besides sitting in a dark room eating the most basic of foods while watching game film or staring at a blank wall.

It’s a personality that makes him seem inaccessible to the general fan and makes Leonard the face of the critique that the Spurs are dull. It’s a personality that can also be used to bludgeon his contemporaries. Leonard is the respectable superstar. He doesn’t worry about drama or his brand. He’s the perfect player for the cranky old man who thinks kids these days don’t care about the game.

But if you dismiss the notion that he’s dull, if you ignore his brand and just watch him as if it was the first time, he’s every bit as exciting as the Westbrooks and Hardens of the world, at least in play.

Leonard is capable of monster blocks. He doesn’t tip the ball away respectfully, as a boring player would. Instead, he tries to send it into the stands. He puts people on posters. All the time. He puts his shoulder into the chest of smaller defenders and imposes his will like LeBron James does. In the latter stages of the third quarter against the Grizzlies, he even had a moment where he started dancing and attempting to crossover like Stephen Curry would.

And his defense is like watching a snake coil around and strangle its prey. The more his counterpart struggles in frustration and tries to force the issue, the worse it gets for them. Memphis is fighting against the dying light, kicking and screaming, begging for a few more weeks to cross some things off the bucket list, and Leonard is dragging them into the abyss with the demeanor of a nihilistic Grim Reaper.

Nothing Leonard has done against the Grizzlies is boring. Whenever they rise up, he beats them down, mercilessly. His stoic personality actually makes it more fun. Leonard is destroying the hopes and dreams of the Grizzlies without even pretending to struggle. He is the representation of life smacking you down in the moment that you’ve given your all, and he is basketball’s great obstacle.