Like Everyone Else, The Cleveland Cavaliers Are Still Waiting On Kevin Love

This article is part of VICE Sports' 2016 NBA Playoffs coverage.

For the Cleveland Cavaliers, Wednesday was one of those rare but joyous nights when the make-or-miss game of basketball turns into an pop-a-shot exhibition. Cleveland shot 25 for 45 from behind the arc in Game 2 of their Eastern Conference Semifinal series against the Atlanta Hawks, setting a new NBA record for three-pointers in a game. J.R. Smith hit six of his seven triples in the first half, helping to build a 36 point lead at the intermission. LeBron James was his usual ultra-efficient self, scoring 27 points on just 15 shots. Kyrie Irving was needed for only 23 minutes of action, but in that time, he played the slasher/scorer/facilitator role to perfection, getting to the line and keeping the entire squad involved.

And Kevin Love was there, too. In fact, he probably was just thrilled to be enjoying the ride.

This is an unfair way to put it, of course. Love played his part in the Cavs' big win, knocking down three shots from long range himself, and also pulling down 13 rebounds in 26 minutes. Still, the 27-year-old forward is now shooting just 24% from the field in the first two games of the series, and even as Cleveland appears poised to roll right through the Eastern Conference, there is still a lingering sense that Love is somewhat separate from it all—unable, to steal a term from a certain Chosen One's subtweets, to fully "fit in."

Is this more perception than reality? Perhaps. One of the most persistent and frustrating bad habits of sports observers—which is to say, almost all of us—is to assume detailed knowledge of a player's feelings, a team's psyche, a general state of things behind the scenes. None of us truly knows how Love exists within the Cavaliers' universe, but it's probably only natural that we speculate and worry. After all, Love's ups and downs don't just cover his time in Cleveland. They've been there his entire career.

It's easy to forget that just eight years ago, the question wasn't whether Love could mesh with a championship-level team, but whether he'd be able to have a successful NBA career in the first place. Questions about his fitness and athleticism were persistent, and as productive as he was with the UCLA Bruins, some doubted that his rather technical game would translate to the next level.

For example: An ESPN.com Draft Profile questioned, in all seriousness, whether Love was "just a more skilled version of Tyler Hansbrough."

Love, of course, defied all the doubters—only to fall, in Minnesota, into that most dreaded of cliched basketball narratives, the "good stats, bad team" guy. It was never Love's fault that the Timberwolves' front office was unable to draft astutely, assemble a solid supporting cast, or handle his contract negotiations with any competence. But night after night of 20 points and 10 rebounds in mostly losing efforts left the door open for everyone to wonder just how he might perform on a bigger stage, under a brighter spotlight, surrounded by more talented and assertive teammates.

Since arriving in Cleveland two seasons ago, these theories have been tested; so too, it appears, has Love. On the court, a player who was once the focal point of every offensive set has been forced to learn, on the fly, how to function as a complementary piece. Rebounding and catch-and-shoots from the corner have become his frequent niche, playing off the one-man offensive engine that is James. And while Love has often filled his new role quite ably, the array of post moves and brilliant touch around the basket that he demonstrated early in his career often now feel like a discarded part of his repertoire.

Of course, things on the court have seemed positively harmonious when compared to the drama that has played out between Cleveland's games. Not-so-thinly veiled tweets. Offseason summit meetings. Photos that sometimes, but not always, include Love among his brothers-in-hoops, leaving tea leaf-reading fans to ponder what it might all mean. If the basketball world has seemed particularly fixated on Cavaliers drama over the past two years, it's only because the team has provided plenty of fodder—and because by signing Love to a long-term extension, Cleveland seemingly can only improve on last year's runner-up finish by improving its chemistry, camaraderie and team spirit.

Love missed the 2015 NBA Finals, the result of a shoulder injury suffered as a result of a rather controversial foul committed by the Boston Celtics' Kelly Olynyk. In Game 1 of this year's playoff series against the Hawks, it appeared, for a minute, like that unpleasant history had repeated itself, with Love briefly retreating to the locker room after another hit to the shoulder.

Thankfully, this incident proved far less serious. Love is still playing. Which means he's still being chased by the same questions. We know he is talented. We know he is skilled. We know he is hardworking. But can he be, in a word, enough? Can he provide exactly what the undeniably capable Cavaliers will need in a potential Finals matchup against one of the greatest teams of all time, assuming Golden State makes it through the Western Conference? For months now, many have wondered how Love might fare against the relentless pace of the Warriors' "death-ball" lineup, or whether he might be able to credibly defend suddenly surging San Antonio star LaMarcus Aldridge. When it comes to Love, there is always another hurdle to be cleared, another box that must be checked.

Granted, if Love and his Cleveland teammates can continue to rain down three-pointers with historic proficiency, night in and night out, all of this will be moot. But let's be real: chances are the rest of the playoffs won't resemble a charmed game of H-O-R-S-E. The Cavaliers are going to need to transform, adjust, and evolve, probably a number of times, over the course of the weeks ahead. Like last year, they likely will have to win ugly, and desperate.

And Love, perhaps more than anyone else in these playoffs, will simply have to do his part—even if, nearly a decade into his career, we're still not entirely sure what that is.