DETROIT — Cade Cunningham carries himself like a new-age NBA player, but doesn’t necessarily play like one. To paraphrase soul star Erykah Badu, he’s an analog star in a digital world — which could make it hard to examine his Rookie of the Year candidacy.
He doesn’t overwhelm the game physically, but applies force in selective moments. There’s a sophistication and polish to his game that feels more mature than raw, giving off the feeling he’s closer to his ceiling than his draftmates.
And he’s come on strong in the last four months after a slow start — exacerbated by an ankle injury that forced him to miss training camp and the first week of the season on a team that couldn’t afford but so many in the second year of a rebuild.
Still, he’s managed to make believers across the board and had his share of clutch moments that present a morsel of his potential. More importantly, on a team full of young ones trying to put their stamp on the league and secure their individual futures, Cunningham emerged as the undisputed leader for the Detroit Pistons’ present and future.
Cunningham, Cleveland’s Evan Mobley and Toronto’s Scottie Barnes each has a compelling case to win the award. Mobley has been steady, particularly on defense where most rookies usually struggle and gives off vibes of a young Tim Duncan. Barnes is an all-everything wing who plays bigger than his 6-foot-9 frame, and like Cunningham, has taken a leap after the All-Star break.
Cunningham’s March put him on par with Michael Jordan and Oscar Robertson as the only rookies to average 22 points, five rebounds and seven assists in a month. His best stretches occurred in wins against Cleveland and Toronto and red-hot Boston after the All-Star break, which doesn’t feel coincidental.
Who’s favored often depends on proximity, or preference considering there is no guideline for the award. Cunningham plays the league’s toughest and deepest position and had the strongest finish. But there are logical reasons for Mobley and Barnes, as well — even as Mobley rebounds from a late-March ankle injury.
A large portion of the argument for Mobley and Barnes stems from foundations laid upon their arrival. Cleveland’s subtle roster improvements were capped off by drafting Mobley, his versatility enabling them to play bigger on the wings to compensate for the lack of girth down low. Luckily for Mobley, he wasn’t overexposed having to play center because of Jarrett Allen’s presence — a perfect situation for a perfect player.
Barnes has been amazing, as has Mobley with no qualifiers. Playing on a team with the bones of a champion preserved eases the burden of having to be the focal point, or franchise player carrying everything on broader-by-the-day shoulders. It also means the margin for error is thinner for both compared to Cunningham, with playoff positioning changing by the day in an über-competitive Eastern Conference.
History could wind up saying all three are in the perfect positions, practically and figuratively able to thrive in their respective environments and cultures.
For Cunningham, the mental stamina required to help resurrect a proud franchise in need of a face to marry itself — not a parched franchise, but a starving one that has largely been on the outside looking inside the NBA’s talent boom of the last decade — feels beyond the pale for the normal teenager or even the exceptional 20-year-old.
“He has ‘it.’ Some guys have that ‘it’ gene. They can get it done in crucial situations and he’s done it his whole career,” Pistons coach Dwane Casey said. “The moment is never too big for him. That’s how he produces and isn’t afraid of the moment. You feel comfortable with the ball in his hands.”
Cunningham understands the big picture as well as the smaller ones, seemingly aware of how to balance assertiveness and leadership without turning off his teammates.
“Taking responsibility early, even when it’s not your fault, is sometimes hard,” Mavs coach and former co-Rookie of the Year Jason Kidd told Yahoo Sports. “Because players want to know that you are going to help protect them or help them. And so you can take that responsibility early and know that your teammates trust you, then things tend to run really, really smooth for yourself. You’ve got to fail first and accept that in front of everyone. Then everyone will understand you’re the real deal.”
Casey said Cunningham has done exactly that.
“He mans up on the film and takes what I get on his ass in the film sessions, ‘My bad coach,’ ” Casey said. “He always owns up to his mistakes. He’s not full of excuses. He accepts responsibility. He’s a real leader. Guys know bull from the real. In the huddles he’ll say, ‘We’re not rebounding, we’re not defending. I’m not defending.’ He’s the first to point it out.”
How much should winning play into this award? By most voting standards, winning is often the tiebreaker or even main criteria. There’s a fine line between making winning plays on a losing team and just putting up numbers for a squad with no expectations. External factors seem to dictate winning more than one person’s presence, in most cases.
“He can’t control we’re in a rebuild, that we have so many second-year guys starting and playing big minutes,” Casey told Yahoo Sports. “We don’t have two All-Stars the way Toronto and Cleveland has. It’s not his fault. Hopefully people don’t judge him on that, because at some point we’ll be in those positions and he’s really gonna shine.”
The notable single-season turnarounds in NBA history are easily explained. The 1979-80 Boston Celtics went from 29 wins to 61 after drafting Larry Bird, who waited a year after being drafted to stay one more season at Indiana State.
David Robinson was drafted by the Spurs in 1987 but had to fulfill a naval commitment for the next two years, coming over as a 24-year-old rookie. The result was 56 wins after 21. And the most recent example was tied to the same franchise, the Spurs getting Tim Duncan in the 1997 draft after a disastrous year with Robinson out with injuries.
Duncan steps in with a still-stellar Robinson back from the mend and a 36-win turnaround ensues.
All are on the short list of the game’s greatest players, and all won Rookie of the Year, but those situations are often the exception and not the rule.
In the year Kidd tied for the award, he shared it with Grant Hill in 1995. Hill’s Pistons won 28 games — an eight-game improvement from the year before compared to Kidd spearheading a 23-win burst from 13 in 1994.
No matter who won the award then, it was obvious that Hill was coming. So is Cunningham.
The only thing keeping him from being the best player on the floor against the desperate Brooklyn Nets was Kevin Durant pulling a 41-point masterpiece, offsetting Cunningham’s 34-point, six-assist showing that had Durant singing his praises for a second time this season.
Two days later, Cunningham was the most important player in a 102-95 comeback win over the Philadelphia 76ers with another 27 points and six assists — helping withstand a 37-point, 15-rebound force of destruction from Joel Embiid.
The Nets were clinging to play-in positioning while the 76ers entered the evening very much within striking distance of the second seed in the East — a win meaning much more to them than a Pistons team clearly positioning for what they hope is their last year in the lottery for the foreseeable future.
Two games don’t make a case, of course. But Cunningham’s second go-round with NBA competition seemed to foretell the type of future he’ll have: 18.9 points, 5.8 rebounds, 5.1 assists since Jan. 1.
Philadelphia coach Doc Rivers warned his players Cunningham wasn’t the same player they saw in his third professional game, when he hit just 4 of 17 shots, grinding his way to an 18-point, 10-rebound outing.
“Just watching him in the Brooklyn game, he controlled it. The patience, his confidence, his confidence in his shot down the stretch,” Rivers said. “And the biggest thing, you see it in the other players. You have to separate yourself if you want to be great, like if you’re a young guy, you can’t come in and blend in, because then why would you guys follow that? You know, and early on he hadn’t separated himself. Now it’s clear.”
Slightly built, his force is more subtle magnetism, more competitive fire in selective moments than a burning inferno for 48. When it snaps, it can catch his teammates off-guard but it lights up an arena — indicating a sense of timing that goes beyond just playing, or even playing winning basketball.
The smoothness to his game eclipses how he reads, how he moves and what he even feels. He understands the importance of the award while also playing proper perspective for a franchise that hasn’t won a playoff game since 2008 — the last time they were a postseason mainstay.
“I think my teammates are kinda looking at that race a little bit, too,” he said. “I’m not really too worried about that race, as much as you know, getting the building blocks and, and getting the foundation right for next year for the Pistons. But I’m gonna keep working. I think I deserve the award. But at the end of the day, it’s a trophy.”