Insider Mag Special: KG Not Thin Skinned Anymore

No Kidding

The Sacramento Kings tried everything to bring out the old Kevin Garnett, the one who punched himself in the temples, screamed obscenities in opponents' faces and occasionally threatened teammates; the one who would hyperventilate during games or, in timeouts, shake so badly he'd spill his trademark two-fisted refresher, a cup of water and a cup of Gatorade, before it reached his lips.

A few years ago, the Kings' rough tactics almost certainly would have derailed KG, leaving Sacramento a clear path to the next round. But this time, Garnett had the ballast to keep himself on track. He had devoted the previous summer to getting better: morning runs on a private beach near his off-season Malibu home, afternoon shooting drills and lifting sessions at Pepperdine, evening scrimmages at UCLA's Pauley Pavilion. In the fall he was joined by a vastly upgraded roster, making it a foregone conclusion the Timberwolves would advance past the first round of the playoffs for the first time in eight tries. There was also that five-year, $100 million contract extension on top of KG's current six-year, $126 million deal.

None of which stopped the Kings from doing their WWE best to frustrate the man, including an Anthony Peeler elbow to the jaw in Game 6. "I don't know if I've been around a more emotional guy than KG," says Minnesota assistant Randy Wittman, who played for Bobby Knight at Indiana. "Remember," he says, "Anthony Peeler played with KG for five years here. There's no doubt in my mind that what the Kings did was premeditated."

There's also no doubt that it didn't work. Instead of losing his cool, Garnett coolly converted whatever Sacramento stirred into a laser beam of energy that carried Minnesota to its first-ever conference finals. He didn't play well every night -- most nights, in fact -- but by not giving in to the Kings' antics, he was around at the end (unlike his good buddy Peeler). And that allowed Garnett, already established as one of the game's best all-around players, to enter the elite stratosphere of those who deliver their biggest performances in the biggest games. He also may have exorcised a few demons along the way, including the knock that he isn't a fourth-quarter scorer, his inferiority complex about Spurs superstar Tim Duncan (more on that later) and the haunting memory of teammate and close friend Malik Sealy dying in a car accident on his way home from Garnett's 24th birthday party.

"Finally," said someone in KG's tight-knit inner circle, who requested anonymity for fear of upsetting the ultraprivate star, "we have something good on his birthday to celebrate."

While the Nuggets went for verbal digs in the first round -- Francisco Elson called KG "gay," an unenlightened barb but the new "your mama" in the macho world of sports -- the Kings went for physical insults. Brad Miller palmed KG's face as if he were smearing a cream pie in it. Vlade Divac nailed him in the chest on a dunk attempt and then stumbled into Garnett, following up with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it stare. Peeler, well aware of Garnett's hair-trigger potential, hit him with elbows from Game 2 on, culminating with a Game 6 shot to the ribs that dropped KG to the floor and, seconds later, another upside to the jaw that snapped his head sideways.

"The first thing I had to do was gather myself," Garnett says of his reaction to the cheap shots. "There can only be one winner and one loser in the course of any kind of heated moment."

Garnett did retaliate, forearming Peeler in the chest after the rib shot to draw a flagrant foul. But after the elbow to the face, he merely bounced on his toes like a boxer, hands down by his sides. He was fined $7,500; Peeler was ejected and suspended for two games, putting him out for Game 7.

Lakers scout Brian Shaw watched from courtside in wonder, noting what KG would've done to Miller a few years ago: "Punched his ass." And to Peeler? Shaw simply laughed and made a face of mock terror.

"KG put his ego and his pride in check in that situation," teammate Gary Trent says. "He saw the big picture. He knew our chances of winning without him wouldn't have been good."

Garnett credits Wittman for warning him before Game 6 in Sacramento that things would escalate. "It's a mind game," KG says. "And it's not one that I'm willing to play."

If these playoffs have shown anything, it's that dealing with the emotional ebb and flow of the postseason is very new to Garnett. While David Stern was presenting him with the MVP trophy before tip-off of Game 1, KG hid his hands behind his back, nervously flicking his thumb across his fingertips. Once Stern finally handed him the bronze hardware, Garnett immediately called his teammates over for a group hug.

The crowd roared as he held the trophy up in a way that suggested he wasn't showing it so much as sharing it. Pouring out love isn't the way KG typically prepares for battle. He moves around the locker room and the court talking to no one. Before stepping over the lines for the jump ball, he slaps a cloud of resin in the faces of the team's broadcasters. "I knew that ceremony was going to be a drain on him," Peeler says. "Here he was, making a speech. He normally doesn't even say 'What's up?' prior to a game."

Peeler was right, of course. By the second quarter, Garnett's jersey was already transparent from sweat. By the third quarter, he had a ring of white film around his mouth. Usually, when Minnesota struggles, he is the first to clap his hands and bark encouragement. But he didn't do that once. Instead, he contributed as many turnovers (six) as baskets to a 104-98 loss, wasting in one night a season's worth of work for homecourt advantage.

If KG didn't look like a league MVP for most of the series, credit that to a strong showing from Chris Webber, Sacramento's effective trapping defense and the rest of the Timberwolves alternately losing their cool. Coach Flip Saunders was hit with a technical for alerting referee Dan Crawford to the fact that he'd officiated in two of Minnesota's previous three losses. Sam Cassell fouled out twice and got T'd twice as well. And Latrell Sprewell earned a T for arguing about an offensive foul called on Garnett, who simply closed his eyes, took a deep breath and got back on defense. "At that point, you have to let your basketball do your talking," KG says.

In the end, he unloaded on the Kings the old-fashioned way, by knocking them out with the finest clutch all-around performance of his career. Garnett celebrated his 28th birthday the night of Game 7 by single-handedly matching the Kings' starting front line in rebounds, with 21, and outscoring them 32-31.

His numbers were staggering -- 14 fourth-quarter points, 5 blocked shots, 4 steals and 2 turnovers in 46 minutes. But it was his demeanor that struck Saunders. "He had a ton of pressure on him," says the coach, "but an amazing calm about him."

* * *

There was a time when Garnett instigated the mind games, at least with his No.1 nemesis, Duncan. Born less than a month apart, the two have represented opposite ends of the NBA spectrum from the start -- and Garnett always suffered for the comparison. He arrived first, the high school kid from the powerhouse program in Chicago and the backwater streets of Mauldin, S.C., a Timberwolves' gamble with the fifth pick and the one who started a trend. Duncan arrived two years later from Wake Forest, a four-year grad taken No. 1, and immediately stole the spotlight. Garnett was all sinew and bared teeth and primal screams, a jump-shooting, crossover-dribbling seven-footer who insisted on being listed at 6-11 so he wouldn't be forced to play with his back to the basket. Duncan was the Big Fundamental, with the solid footwork and the soft jump hooks from either hand, a grown-up whose most volatile reaction was widening his eyes. KG joined a roster of malcontents and wild cards at the bottom of the Midwest Division, while Duncan stepped into a lineup of classy veterans at the top.

For all of KG's competitiveness, he so relishes being part of the league's great-player fraternity that he is downright chummy at times when going against the likes of Webber and Rasheed Wallace. (Pressed into point duty with Cassell ailing in Game 3 against the Kings, Garnett grinned as CWebb took a guard's defensive stance and smiled back.) But Sam Mitchell, Garnett's former teammate and mentor, made sure his young charge never took that attitude toward Duncan.

"I told him from the start to be careful about being overly friendly with Tim," says Mitchell, now an assistant with the Bucks. "I told him, 'You've got to keep a competitive edge. This is a guy you're going to be battling for the next 15 years for all the same things -- championships, MVP trophies, All-NBA honors.' Kevin could overwhelm certain guys with his talent, but against Tim he really had to bring it."

So maybe the profanities Garnett screamed in Duncan's face minutes into their first playoff meeting in 1999 shouldn't have come as a surprise; nor the exchange of words that got them both ejected from a regular-season game two years ago. Even now, KG remains reluctant to get to know his counterpart, never mind that they filmed a commercial together for Nike a few years ago, have spent the past five seasons starting together on the Western Conference All-Star squad and are now once again working for the same shoe company, adidas.

Ask Garnett about almost anyone, and he's generally gracious. Ask him about Duncan, and the conversation doesn't go far. "I don't know Timmy," he says. "We're very different. It's not like I hang out with him. But everybody matures in different ways. He's always been pretty quiet and had his emotions in check, and I had to learn to control mine. To say we're alike is far-fetched."

They are more alike now, though, than ever. With the retirement of David Robinson, Duncan finally dropped the stoic leader approach this season, getting on teammates and celebrating big plays with fist pumps and yells. He even traded barbs with Lakers coach Phil Jackson. And like TD, KG now has a supporting cast. "That's why he's able to dominate in the fourth quarter," Mitchell says. "He's got energy left."

The lighter workload also benefited Garnett in another way, allowing him to keep 240 pounds on his 7-1 frame. In seasons past, he'd shrink to 220 by the playoffs, the very time he needed that extra girth to keep from getting pushed right out of the picture.

Minnesota GM Kevin McHale figures Garnett's growth is the result of a young man maturing on and off the court after years of playing loose and wild and paying the price. "Nobody's engine revs higher than KG's," McHale says. "I tell him all the time, 'You have to slow down and read where you're going. You can't always drive a car at maximum speed. You can't see the signs and you can't make the turns. Go fast in the straightaways, but if it starts to get away from you, back off. You can always take it up again.' "

Make no mistake, KG still has his razor tongue. When Wolves guard Darrick Martin passed up an open shot against Denver in the first round, Garnett was quick to snap at him. When Sprewell and Cassell questioned KG's attempted pass to center Ervin Johnson in Game 6 against the Kings, Garnett barked, "Shut the f-- up, I know what I'm doing!" And when Mark Madsen fumbled a potential layup out of bounds in Game 7, Garnett glared at the bench and mouthed to get Madsen out of the game. More often than not, such displays are taken in stride, as the competitive fire of a veteran willing his team to win.

"You can't minimize the value of experience," says Martin, who also played with KG the rookie. "He has a great sense now of who he can get on and who he can't."

So to what do we owe this transformation? Saunders points to yoga and breath-control lessons Garnett has taken on his own the past couple of years. Teammate Wally Szczerbiak credits KG's engagement earlier this season to Brandi Padilla, sister-in-law to music impresario Jimmy (Jam) Harris, Garnett's long-time mentor and a Wolves season ticket-holder. As KG himself says, "That's one thing I do have a lot more control of -- my emotions."

He still looks every bit Da Kid, his original moniker back in 1995 as the first high school player drafted by an NBA team in 20 years. As Garnett prepared for his MVP press conference, he dusted off a sand-colored suit, then had his representative, Michael Moore, knot his tie. With no cuff links, his French cuffs hung from the suit as if he'd borrowed the shirt from an older brother, while black socks and white sneakers cemented the image of a 12-year-old forced to dress up for church. When team owner Glen Taylor commented on the shoes, Garnett looked down at him and offered to get him a pair, joking, "We have kids' sizes, Glen."

But once the spotlight was on him, Garnett the grown-up showed up, revealing a genuine respect for his charmed life. He noted that without the Wilts, Kareems and Magics, "there would be no Kevin Garnett." Then he thanked Spencer Haywood, Darryl Dawkins and Moses Malone -- the three men who'd made the big jump before him -- for "paving the way for the young guys."

In the end, though, the only value the MVP trophy had for Garnett was in assuaging his disappointment over losing out last year to Duncan. Winning this year and, for the first time in the postseason, outlasting "the other 21," as Jimmy Jam's kids refer to Duncan, ends a run in which TD seemed to have everything KG wanted.

The wish list has been winnowed to one: a championship. "If ..." says Garnett, before the auto-correct kicks in, "when I get that big gold trophy, that will solidify my long journey. That's really what I want." It will be tough to get there this season. The Lakers, having escaped their own Duncan demons, appear to be clicking on all cylinders. But for now, Garnett has at least changed how teams attempt to stop him, because getting in his head will not work anymore.

After the Wolves did away with the Kings, KG broke loose, jumping on the scorer's table and shouting to the crowd -- "Yeah, goddamn it!" -- before walking off the floor while yipping into a microphone. It was just the kind of emotion that Karl Malone is sure to try and unleash before the buzzer sounds. But Shaw's scouting report undoubtedly included a word of caution for the Lakers: Better have a Plan B.

This article appears in the June 7 issue of ESPN The Magazine.