What Kevin Garnett’s Hall of Fame career taught me about basketball

You had to watch Kevin Garnett to really appreciate him. Anyone could see the tomahawk dunks and belligerent blocks coming from a mile away. It’s not like you couldn’t hear his profane screams rising over the din of 18,000 people.

The Garnett that most people know was a howling banshee, and about as subtle as an elbow to the back of the head. His election to the Basketball Hall of Fame was a no-brainer, a fitting epilogue for the career of one of the greatest players of all time.

You didn’t need to be Hubie Brown to know KG was special. There may not have been a more complete basketball player in his era. Just watch the video of him destroying his Team USA teammates in 2000.

But there was another side to Garnett that to my eyes revealed the true measure of the player. The way he moved on defense to cut off angles before they appeared, how his quasi-legal screens edged farther and farther out, bending the rules to create his own. How his concept of team never wavered, even when everyone wanted him to be more selfish, just this once.

There was a rhythm to KG that was not all bellicose bluster. It was consistent and measured, even artful. His jump shot could be as pure as Ray Allen’s, provided his timing was just right. His passing, while not as mesmerizing as Rajon Rondo’s, was more on point and direct.

Even on a team with two other Hall of Famers and an in-his-prime all-star point guard in Rondo, Garnett’s presence for the Celtics was vital. He was the alpha and the omega, yet he yielded the spotlight to everyone from Paul Pierce to Glen “Big Baby” Davis.

That was the KG I watched night after night with the Celtics. From Garnett, I learned the game of NBA basketball. He was my teacher and my muse, providing a wide-open canvas to paint an intricate portrait that was never quite finished; each stroke revealing new pathways to explore.

I really didn’t know much about how NBA defense actually worked until I saw Garnett provide the backbone for one of the great defensive units the game has ever seen. He covered up mistakes and barked out instructions. He was always available for the big assignment, but managed to be even more impactful away from the ball where he could direct the action.

On offense, he would happily hang out on the perimeter and knock down 20-foot jump shots all night long if the defense allowed him the space. Had Garnett come along 10 years later when the three-point line took prominence, he’d be the unicorn against whom all the others are measured.

When the spirit moved him, Garnett could work the low block with the best of them. He’d give that right shoulder fake, pivot and shoot over his left with such ease it was a wonder he didn’t do it more often.

That was the thing with KG. As great as he was, there was always a thought that he could have done more. But to demand that would have been to deny the man his essence. He lived for the concept of team and he carried himself that way on the court at all times.

A favorite tic: When Garnett did make one of his rare mistakes, he’d raise his arm to acknowledge the error and keep it up there for everyone else to see. It was his way of doing penance and accepting responsibility.

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I admit to having a lifelong fascination with KG. He was my entry point into the league after I was assigned a profile for Boston magazine during the 2008 playoffs. The story I wrote was fine, but it missed so much that I spent the next four years of my life tracking his every move to learn the finer points.

My education was complete during the 2012 playoffs when Garnett willed an over-the-hill team to Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals on a strict minutes count. The Celtics were so dependent on KG that they cratered without him on the floor, getting outscored by 24 points per 100 possessions when he was on the bench.

That KG was nothing like the 2004 MVP Garnett that took the Wolves to the conference finals, or even the 2008 version when his debut with the C’s resulted in a championship. This 2012 Garnett was economical and precise. He made the most of every second on the court and conserved his energy when he sat, exuding a form of zen stoicism that was the antithesis of his hyper-active Big Ticket persona.

There may have been better versions of Garnett, but I doubt there was ever a more inspiring one. It was as if he had taken everything he had learned over the years and condensed it into six-minute bursts of activity, giving the game exactly what it needed at that moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

I made a point of appreciating Garnett in my work and I’d like to think we had a connection. He didn’t curse me out as much as the other writers, and he occasionally made time for me when I approached. One particularly surreal day stands out. After a Saturday practice when everyone else was busy doing something else, KG sat down and nodded for me to come over.

We talked about what it meant to be a Celtic, and he began a long, winding dissertation about what it meant to be a writer. I’m paraphrasing, but the gist of it was that if I sat down at the desk of a famous writer — Beverly Cleary, say — and typed on the same typewriter then I couldn’t help but be inspired to write better. That’s how he felt about playing under the banners and retired numbers.

That was really his example, by the way. Beverly Cleary.

Over the years I’d ask people who had been around Garnett a simple question: Was there more to KG, or less? The answers ranged from those who suspected there was much more to the man than he allowed publicly to significantly less. I never could figure it out.

Perhaps it’s better not to know. Given the tremendous amount of pride and care he put into his craft, he defined himself as a basketball player in such stark terms that there wasn’t much point in confusing the matter.

In the end, Garnett stood for winning. It was so pure, so real that trying to make sense of his occasionally bizarro behavior and stream-of-consciousness quotes was entirely beside the point. He gave you everything he had on the court every night, and that answered all your questions, so long as you bothered to look.