“Do you know me?”
The question is loaded, my five-year-old’s eyes sparkling like Venus in the black of night. “Will you always merember me?”
“Of course.”
And so the joke begins.
“Knock knock…” she continues.
I give in. “Who’s there?”
“I thought you said you’d always merember me!”
First, a confession:
Toni Kukoc, T.J. Ford, and Joe Smith Photo by: Gary Dineen/Getty Images
Giannis’ well-documented journey to the NBA is both figuratively and literally the stuff of screenplays. His against-all-odds plight personifies all that is the American dream. Less reflected on is the impact this has had (and continues to have) on Bucks fans. This is where my story begins.
For those who haven’t yet read my self-introduction (do so here), Giannis’ first year in the A coincided with my first official year as a Bucks fan. And for this, I must painfully confess. When NBA Live and later SLAM Magazine first introduced me to the best sports league in the world, I was as naïve as it gets. It was 2003, and I jumped on the Kobe (and by extension, Lakers’) bandwagon. While this had its perks, I never really felt connected with everything anything LA stood for. In the meantime, I had found an affinity for this little franchise in Milwaukee with a waterbug rook in extremely oversized shorts and a greyed lefty with sweet vision who was vaguely familiar from the 90s.
Like Adelaide, my home in Australia, everyone seemed to overlook Milwaukee, and even those who followed the NBA here didn’t pay them any attention. Then they drafted Bogut. While this was good—Australian television actually aired Bucks’ games—I couldn’t live with the idea of being a bandwagoner again. And so I supported in secret until there was no chance of this—until Monta had been traded.
Out and proud:
Milwaukee Bucks v. Philadelphia 76ers Photo by Jesse D. Garrabrant/NBAE via Getty Images
Officially “out” as a Bucks fan, 2013–14 was an absolute joy. The Tough Juice trade had me hyped (do you remember that 38-point game!?), and there was legitimate promise with a mostly young squad, including a pair of up-and-coming shot-blocking bigs. I even talked myself into mid-season acquisition, Jeff Adrien, being part of the future. Of course, it was that rookie from Greece who tantalised.
For a guy who averaged only 6.8 PPG, 4.4 RPG, and 1.9 APG on 41.4% shooting, Giannis just had so many moments. Chase-down blocks, coast-to-coast dunks, no-look dimes, you name it, and he did it. But it wasn’t necessarily what he did, so much as how he did it. I guess there’s a reason he earned the “Freak” moniker. Throw in the endearing personality—the smoothie tweet, the strapped-for-cash runs to the Bradley Center—it was apparent that he had something. Little did we know…
Olive blossom in bloom, Giannis’ sophomore metamorphosis was simultaneously subtle and striking. 18 and 12 against Brooklyn turned into consecutive 16 and 12 games against New York and Phoenix. A then career-high 27 and 15 against Houston shortly followed, and I distinctly remember wondering if this could be the norm. Two years later, it was.
Prime time:
2019 NBA Awards Presented By Kia On TNT - Inside Photo by Michael Kovac/Getty Images for Turner Sports
Exposition established, life as a Bucks fan went from SD to HD. You know the script: playoff regulars, All-Star nods, MVPs… Suddenly, at least one bloke on the other side of the planet was walking taller (I can only imagine what it was like in MKE). The narrative arc continued, leading to Eastern Conference Finals heartbreak against Toronto and a surreal “Bubble” dream-sequence I’m still not totally convinced actually happened.
And then, the summit. 2021. Heat, Nets, Hawks. Redemption, resilience, resolve. They made The Finals, but at what cost? How could they possibly win without Giannis? Enter Fate. Somehow, Giannis was available. But it didn’t stop there.
Thanks to the most delayed (non-lockout) start of the season ever, Games 1 through 5 were played during South Australia’s winter school break, meaning I could watch each of them live. Back-to-back 40s*. That* block. Then, “stolen by Holiday… Antetokounmpo throws it down!” Even though I was on my living room couch, I felt like I was in Deer District. Up 3-2, did Fate have one more gift? Turns out she had two.
One: South Australian schools returned on July 19th, only to go into COVID lockdown the very next day. Game 6 was scheduled for the 21st.
Two: Giannis drops a 50-piece to secure the chip.
NBA: Finals-Phoenix Suns at Milwaukee Bucks Jeff Hanisch-Imagn Images
Glory is always sweet, but something about the timing of triumph amidst tribulation deepens its meaning. And then there’s legacy. Giannis doing what he did when he did it is the stuff of legends. Doing it for a franchise he helped save and for a fan base so foreign to victory? That adds layers.
Later that night, as I rewatched the game, reflecting on the final moments—my kids in my arms—I thought about the Bucks fans who might’ve celebrated the same way fifty years earlier. Now, we are forever tethered.
A denouement?
Miami Heat v Milwaukee Bucks - Game Five Photo by Stacy Revere/Getty Images
A gallant second-round loss and three first-round exits later, the promise of youth, the thrill of the climb, the summit—all of it is gone. And now, here we are, in the thick of big media trying to manifest a Giannis trade.
Whether it’s this off-season, in the months ahead, or some distant day further down the track, the knock at Giannis’ door will eventually ring hollow. It will hurt, no doubt. Reverberate up and along our arms like a blunt axe on hickory. Echo in the very core of our existence, in the hollow that grows when you lose a piece of yourself—a piece of your soul.
Rest assured, Giannis, no matter what jersey you come to wear, you will always be a Buck. Our Buck.
And we will always “merember” you.