Reggie Jackson and Getting What You Want

Reggie Jackson missed his first three shots on Sunday afternoon, then threw up. It was either jitters or a sinus problem that caused his nausea, but the former fits neatly into an established narrative, so let's go with that one. It would make sense if Jackson's gastrointestinal upset was due to his feeling overwhelming pressure to succeed. This was his debut after forcing his way out of Oklahoma City because he sees himself as a much better player than his now-former team ever did. These next couple months in Detroit are his opportunity to prove a point.

Jackson left the Thunder on bad terms. When it was announced last Thursday that he had been traded to the Pistons, he emoted weirdly on Twitter, and his two most famous teammates evidently weren't at all sad to see him go. Jackson had been OKC's squeaky wheel all season, and during his protracted exit, each side demonstrated their disdain for the other. The player sulked and the organization grew exasperated with him. This happens in lots of workplaces: interests do not coincide, and so there is squabbling. Unfortunately for Jackson, the athlete tends to get the short end of the public perception stick in these sorts of disputes.

It is difficult to feel deep compassion for Jackson. He turned down a four-year, $48 million extension from the Thunder this past offseason, and while his fervent desire to start isn't ill-founded, he could have refrained from mentioning it every chance he got. GM Sam Presti and coach Scott Brooks can't be blamed for being miffed that their player was regularly showing them up in the press, agitating for a role they had told him numerous times he wouldn't be given. The extent to which a person is seen as selfish usually depends, not on what they want, but how much of an asshole they are about wanting it. Jackson was at least a little bit of an asshole.

Before the Thunder's third game of the season, when the roster was down to nine healthy bodies, Jackson was cleared to play after overcoming an ankle injury, but he held himself out because he was mad at the organization for declining to trade him before October 31, which would have given him an opportunity to sign an extension with whatever new team he was sent to. In a morning shootaround, he told reporters he wouldn't be playing that night, then walked over to a basket and threw down a windmill slam in full view of the assembled journalists and his teammates. It was a sign of petulance to come.

When Jackson did play, he appeared to play for himself. Especially when Russell Westbrook was bench-ridden at the beginning of the year, Jackson shot and dribbled too much. He took mid-range jumpers instead of attacking the basket; he purposely didn't shoot three-quarter-court heaves at the end of quarters so as not to hurt his field goal percentage. The team was trying to keep itself afloat until both its injured stars returned, and Jackson was trying to showcase his talents above all else. When he continued to look out for number one once Westbrook took back the starting point guard spot, the Thunder acquired Dion Waiters, which signalled that Jackson was likely to leave Oklahoma City before the trade deadline arrived.

If Jackson didn't handle himself with utter professionalism in his final half-season with the Thunder, his actions are at least explicable. He has talked, since arriving in Detroit, about how he has been waiting his entire life for the opportunity to run an NBA offense. There's an argument to be made that Jackson was somewhere near the top of his field already, logging significant minutes for a title contender, but he's not content just to chip in; he wants to drive the mechanism himself. There's also the matter of money. Jackson's performances with the Thunder this year have almost definitely cost him the chance to receive a max contract this summer, when he enters restricted free agency, but there is a chance, if he finishes this season strongly, that one team or another might give him something like what the Thunder offered last summer—while also giving him what he wants most: the starting point guard duty.

Jackson's aspirations—to be paid well to do a job he wants—are not unreasonable. In fact, they border on universal. He's 24, with three-and-a-half seasons in the NBA. He feels ready to show everyone the full extent of his talents, and he was never going to be able to do that in Oklahoma City. Thankfully for both parties, the unpleasantness is over. Jackson is in a new home, and we'll learn over the coming months and years whether his acting out was indiscretion caused by extreme frustration with his circumstance, or symptomatic of a deeper, insidious jerkish streak. We'll also learn if he can play basketball as well as he believes he can. In the end, all he wanted was a chance to prove himself, and now he's got it.