De’Aaron Fox Is a Land of Contrasts

(The following is a reader submission. Enjoy! – Greg)

I can’t speak for the rest of Kings Internet, but I can confirm via on-the-ground reporting that Kings Twitter is in the throes of another one of its cyclical Major Schisms. The subject this time, unsurprisingly, is De’Aaron Fox, our erstwhile quasi-superstar, whose weird, uncomfortable exit (one of countless weird, uncomfortable personnel oopsies under the weird, uncomfortable Ranadivé regime) has hastened some unfortunate decisions from all concerned. Constant leaks throughout the player transaction process tend to be more or less standard fare for our dumb team, and this instance was certainly no exception. Whether the hints that were constantly dropping in the (utterly captured, more or less pointless) NBA media about Fox’s preference to be dealt, where to be dealt, and whom not to be dealt for turn out to have been Klutch maneuvering or just garden-variety janky Kings bullshit makes little difference. It all adds up to the same mess as always.

Fox has long been a somewhat polarizing figure, a natural outgrowth of the tension between his off-the-charts physical gifts, intelligence, toughness, and work ethic (some facet of his game has reliably improved year over year, a testament to his offseason commitment) and his limited leadership capabilities, increasingly frequent lapses in on-court focus/effort, and overall sourpuss demeanor. He’ll make a model pairing with surly Frenchman Victor Wembanyama in San Antonio, and I am genuinely looking forward to their Daria synergy for years to come.

Many of us were touched by his apparent affinity for the city, his fast embrace of the fanbase, his decision to start and grow his young family here. And many of us were put off by his persistent refusal to say the right things when fans’ feelings (very volatile things indeed amidst the endless unfolding disaster that is our lot in life) really could have used a firm hand and a steady voice. That’s a service max players are meant to provide, regardless of whether their franchise happens to be run by a series of clowns piling out of the same tiny car, and that’s something for which we were always left wanting with De’Aaron Fox at the helm. Your mileage may vary as far as the importance of the public-facing aspects of professional athletes’ jobs, but it’d be hard to argue that Fox’s clear hostility toward his responsibilities in that regard has ever reflected particularly well on him.

But given that the Luka Dončićes of the world were for whatever reason not forthcoming, the superstar vacuum had to be filled by someone. And, as with any role that confers power, that 1A status came with a built-in constituency. His champions are loud and numerous and they make many good points. He was the first-ever Clutch Player of the Year, and he more than earned it. He went toe to toe with Steph Curry in the playoffs before injuries limited him. He played hurt constantly. He scored 109 points in a 24-hour period earlier this season. For one glorious moment, he helped drag us out of the slime and into the first round. The Beam is lit, and he did the lighting. He’s Fucking Nice, no ifs, ands, or buts. Some of us will always love him for that. Some of us stop short of love and merely appreciate him for his many contributions. And some of us, apparently, forgot all about all of that and hate his fucking guts. And, thus, the schism.

Fox, for his part, has done little to stem the tide of antipathy headed his way from certain corners of the faithful. As always, our man loves to encounter a hater, and apparently finds his only true motivation in the resulting spite. On the court, that manifests in dazzling bursts of dominance after someone’s shit talk gets a little out of pocket or a cheap shot goes a little far. One might hope that such stimuli wouldn’t be necessary in order for a person who has been cast and paid as a 1A NBA superstar to do their best, but here in our wretched little Kingdom we peasants take what we can get. Off the court, he’s niche-notorious for name-searching himself online and picking petty squabbles with the unwashed masses who dare to criticize him. He’s not what you’d call enthusiastic about his adoring public, and they can tell.

And so we come to the news of the day: online bullshit piled upon online bullshit, just like most days. Fox, you see, unfollowed Domantas Sabonis on Instagram, and some intrepid gumshoe made the connection and posted about it, and people are asking questions, and aren’t we all having ourselves a nice Real Housewives experience with that information. But then came the kicker: Fox decided to weigh in. He descended into the comments to explain, in his typical 60% condescending tone rife with I’m-not-mad laughing emojis, that sometimes you just don’t need to follow your old coworkers anymore, because you’re not close, and it doesn’t matter, and who cares. Then he deleted the comments, because of course he did, because why on earth would he post them in the first place? A tiny, almost imperceptible non-story that would have vanished into internet ephemera in seconds was instead inflamed into further proof that this guy is a mercenary asshole who never really loved you like that. All of it was goofy, and all of it was preventable.

Fox has always been, shall we say, prickly. Maybe even a little haughty. He’s surprisingly thin-skinned for a guy so committed to a studiously-cultivated pretense of being above it all. Fans, who hang on every word, every detail, every sign, signal, and omen, pick up on that, and over time many have come to resent it. This is as understandable as Fox’s introverted ambivalence about constantly being on display in the first place. The fact that Fox looked around and determined that his relationship with this franchise had outlived its usefulness to him is something with which most fans, I think, can sympathize. All things being equal, nobody would choose to work for Vivek. But his manner of leaving, and his decision to engage the needling and wheedling of the sour-grapes subset of the fanbase on his way out instead of taking the graceful high road, will create a permanent bitter edge to the sweeter memories of his time here for some. C’est la vie.

And now we denizens of Elon’s hellhole find ourselves immersed in the tut-tutting of Fox’s defenders and personality cultists as it crashes into the unhinged, anarchic, possibly Gamergate-infused berserker attacks of Fox’s lunatic haters, creating a dizzying cacophony. Much like the trade saga that ended up carrying him out of town, none of it ever really made that much sense. The entire De’Aaron Fox experience seems to have left Kings fans in a position similar to J.K. Simmons’s CIA supervisor as he speaks to his subordinate at the end of the Coen Brothers’ Burn After Reading:

Supervisor: What did we learn, Palmer?
Officer: I don’t know, sir.
Supervisor: I don’t fuckin’ know either. I guess we learned not to do it again.
Officer: Yes, sir.
Supervisor: I’m fucked if I know what we did.
Officer: Yes, sir. It’s, uh, hard to say.

And so it goes, Kings fans. And so it goes.

Ty Foster has somehow managed uninterrupted Sacramento Kings fandom for the past 30+ years. He has been a fan and avid lurker of Sactown Royalty/The Kings Herald for about 20 of those. He hosts a podcast with his best friend Duncan Smith called The Purple & Black Pill, which can be found here: The Purple & Black Pill Podcast – Apple Podcasts