I’m not gonna lie, the past two weeks have been weird. Awkward. Icky, if you will. Because as the Western Conference Finals progressed, one thing became clear. I was rooting for the San Antonio Spurs to win.
Even typing those words feels awkward. The Spurs are a team I’ve “sports hated” for most of my life. They have left scars that will never heal over wounds that I will never forgive.
They are a franchise that is responsible for creating some of the most depressing moments I’ve experienced as a fan.
They’re a franchise I’ve always found unbelievably lucky, because every time they’ve tanked, they’ve somehow been rewarded with a generational pick. Go back to 1996-97. David Robinson got hurt, and San Antonio decided they were going to lose in an effort to land the number one pick and take Tim Duncan out of Wake Forest. The Boston Celtics should’ve gotten that pick. San Antonio did.
And as a result, they won five championships. Plenty of those came at the expense of the Phoenix Suns. That’s the relationship so many of us older Suns fans have with San Antonio. It’s rooted in disdain, frustration, and that lingering feeling that the basketball gods always seemed to lean against Phoenix.
The Suns of the early 2000s were revolutionary. Phoenix changed the way the game was played. They still couldn’t get past the fundamental force that was the Spurs. The NBA didn’t need to hand San Antonio any favors, and somehow they still did. Amar’e Stoudemire and Boris Diaw were suspended for stepping off the bench in Game 4 of the 2007 Western Conference Semifinals, even though Tim Duncan had allegedly come off the bench earlier in the game after James Jones fouled Francisco Elson.
And those Spurs teams always seemed to toe the line of basketball ethics as they battered and bruised the Suns, kicking them in the balls and breaking their noses. So there will always be that feeling of sports hate when it comes to San Antonio, and it’s something I’ll never let go. They ruined countless moments during my 20s that should’ve been filled with elation.
All of that being said, in the 2026 Western Conference Finals, I was rooting for that team. The team that had once again played the tanking game and won, garnering another generational big man in the process.
Why? Because, quite honestly, the Oklahoma City Thunder are a team I simply do not enjoy watching. Yes, they’re talented. And Sam Presti has done an incredible job building that roster. What makes them tough to watch is everything else.
When we talk about ethical hoops, Oklahoma City feels like the opposite end of that conversation. They’ve fully embraced flopping and flailing, constantly hitting the floor in an effort to manipulate officials. And as somebody who watches a ton of basketball, it’s exhausting. It’s not a fun watch. I had zero interest in seeing that style of basketball on the NBA Finals stage, so I found myself pulling for the San Antonio Spurs.
And part of me genuinely likes what that Spurs team is. You saw it after Game 7 when Victor Wembanyama got emotional after winning the series. That’s the kind of competitive fire I like to see. Somebody invested. Somebody who cares. Somebody willing to lay it all on the line for his team in an effort to win. If Oklahoma City had won, I don’t know if there would’ve been tears. I don’t know if there would’ve been that kind of raw emotion. It probably ends with another corny interview and everyone acting like it’s business as usual.
What Oklahoma City has done to basketball feels embarrassing, because the desire to manipulate started feeling more important than the desire to be effective. And you saw it in the second half of Game 7. They clearly heard the national conversation, because for long stretches they weren’t falling on every possession or flopping through contact. Then they found themselves down 10, and suddenly it was right back to flop mode. And shame on NBC for not showing any of it. They didn’t want another viral clip making the rounds.
That’s what drives me nuts about Oklahoma City. “Flop Tarts,” is what I call them. And I’m glad I don’t have to watch them in the NBA Finals.
In the same breath, I’m happy I don’t have to root for the San Antonio Spurs anymore. It felt weird. It never felt natural, because every memory I have with that franchise pulls me right back to all the times their success felt tied to Phoenix coming up short. Those feelings don’t disappear. They stick with you. They always will.
So as we head into the NBA Finals this year, I’m pulling for the New York Knicks. There’s something special about seeing them have this opportunity, chasing their first championship since 1973. The league is more interesting when the Knicks are relevant. And for me, it feels a whole lot easier. No weird internal debate. No forcing myself to root for a team I’ve spent decades sports hating.
This one feels simple. Go Knicks.
