PHOENIX — Fresh off, arguably, the most important performance of his young career, Anthony Edwards sat in front of the world with a white tank top and an all-black Atlanta Braves fitted cap that sat loose, hovering just above his crisp hairline — making him look more like an extra in Outkast’s “Player’s Ball” video than the future face of the NBA.
Edwards is who he is. Silly. Lovable. Intelligent. Country. He wears it all, loudly and proudly. He’s also a competitor. A trash-talker. He wears all of those things just as loud, just as proud.
You add all of that up and you have a star. You add all of those things up plus a 40-point performance in a playoff-sweeping 122-116 victory over the Phoenix Suns on Sunday night, and you start to enter superstardom.
Yet, Edwards, for one reason or another, is afraid to go there. For as honest, brash and confident as he is and can be, there lives a bashfulness inside the 22-year-old when it comes to talking about his stature within the sport’s most prestigious club.
A year ago, before a first-round loss to the eventual-champion Denver Nuggets, Edwards said he couldn’t consider himself a young star until he “wins in the playoffs.”
A year later, he did it. Edwards not only won in the playoffs, but he was the alpha in a series that featured the likes of Devin Booker and Kevin Durant, his all-time favorite player. Edwards led his organization to heights it hadn’t seen in 20 years, the second round of the NBA playoffs. He did it with rim-twisting dunks. He did it with a sweet shooting stroke. He did it with gnaw-your-arm-off defense. He did it with leadership. He did it with WWE “Suck It!” extracurriculars. He did it while giving an earful to the player he has looked up to since he was 5.
These are the things that make stars. This is what stardom looks like.
“Nah, not yet, man,” Edwards said Sunday after reaching the benchmark he placed on himself a year ago. “Not yet.”
Edwards, unbeknownst to him, lost the privilege to decide what he is and isn’t in this league.
When you score 40 points in a series-clinching victory — on the road at that — you’re a star. When you played 79 regular-season games and were the best player for a team that was one game short of having the top record in your conference, you’re a star. When you’re one of 12 players, at the age of 22, picked to represent your country in the Olympics, you’re a star. When you make everyone laugh every time you’re in front of a microphone, order McDonald’s off Uber Eats immediately after a game, like he did in Detroit last season, you’re a star.
“He’s the face of the league,” said teammate Karl-Anthony Towns, who sat next to Edwards as his reserved side took center stage when talking about his status in the NBA. “He hates when I say it, but it’s true. Like I said, ‘Future so bright, got to put the sunglasses on.’ ”
Regular players don’t decide to dominate when they have a chance to end their opponent for good. They don’t have that ability. Stars shoot 11 of 15 from the floor for 31 points in the second half when their team is trailing at halftime like Edwards did on Sunday. Stars muster up their last bit of energy late in the fourth quarter to throw down a “Night, night!” dunk — like he did with just over two minutes to play when he crossed up Bradley Beal on the wing, took a gather dribble, launched from outside of the paint and forced his childhood hero out of the way as he punished the rim like it hit his sister.
Stars get on their other star teammate amid all the chaos when they do something wrong like Edwards did when Towns committed another unnecessary foul with the game in the balance.
Edwards can’t run from it anymore. No matter how hard he tries. If he doesn’t want to be a star, then…
This article was originally published by a theathletic.com . Read the Original article here. .