Blazers’ Damian Lillard is playing through a wave of family tragedies: ‘People have no idea’

It was last week, when the Trail Blazers were in Los Angeles, when Damian Lillard didn’t know if he could play against the Lakers.

His body was fine. His mind wasn’t.

“I thought about (not playing), because mentally I was like … I don’t want to say I didn’t care, because I did care,” Lillard said. “But emotionally, I was like, whatever.”

His emotions had been worn thin because, in the past 18 months, it seemed like he had lived a lifetime. In 2020, he was the first to discover the dead body of his cousin and personal chef. An aunt died from cancer. A family friend died of COVID-19. And in the early months of 2021, a cousin was killed in West Oakland.

And then last Thursday, the day before the Lakers game, Lillard learned of the shooting deaths of two people in his inner circle. One was a cousin close enough to Lillard to be at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner in Portland in November. The other was like family — the best friend of perhaps his closest cousin, who was among the first family members to move to Portland when Lillard was drafted by the Trail Blazers in 2012.

“I could be 45,” said the 30-year-old Lillard. “I’ve done seen and been around so much.”

Last week, Lillard went ahead and played against the Lakers, finishing with 35 points and seven assists, continuing a dominant season that has earned him a berth in Sunday’s All-Star Game, his sixth All-Star honor in his nine seasons.

His play has once again lifted a depleted Trail Blazers team, who are now 19-14 and in the thick of the West playoff race, his breathtaking whirlwind of 30-foot shots, commanding leadership and late-game heroics putting him squarely in the discussion for the NBA’s Most Valuable Player award.

But in an interview Tuesday with The Athletic, Lillard revealed there is much more going on with him than what fills the stat sheet and triggers the talk show debates.

He is hurting. His family is hurting. And every night the Blazers take the court, he is trying to summon the courage and understanding to keep playing.

“It’s been a hard year and a half for my family, man,” Lillard said. “People have no idea.”

The events of the past 18 months have taught him about the fragility of life, the pain of death and the importance of family. And it has driven home the reality that even though he is among the wealthiest and most recognizable NBA athletes, that fame and fortune doesn’t shield him from the violent realities so often played out in his hometown.

It all has come to a head within the past week — the weight of his past, the pain of his present and the responsibility in his future — and has led to him confronting the age-old question that at some point faces us all:

“What really matters in life, you know?” Lillard asked. “When you consider that, and when you consider what your family is going through … it’s a battle mentally to put yourself in that place where this game is the most important thing right now.”

Yet, he keeps playing. He keeps leading. And he keeps excelling.

So how has Lillard done it? How has he remained one of the best players in the NBA while dealing with such piercing heartache? How has he so focused on leading, and inspiring others when he feels so scattered and drained?

The answer, like so many things with Lillard, is found in his family.

As the Blazers prepare for their final two games before the All-Star break — home games Wednesday against Golden State and Thursday against Sacramento — he admits he is drained.

“Not like I’m physically tired, but where I’m emotionally drained,” Lillard said.

He is drained not only because of last week’s shooting deaths, but because of the strain his family has been under after absorbing so much loss within the past 18 months.

“I’m happiest when my family is happy, and when people I love are happy,” Lillard said. “And I know it’s a hard time for them. So much has been happening.”

Last week, as he sat in his hotel room in Los Angeles, he fielded calls from tearful cousins, piecing together bits of information as they came in. Then when he returned to Portland, he saw something rare.

“When you see your parents get emotional, that just sent me over,” Lillard said. “Because that just tells you people are really affected.”

Seeing his parents upset last week caused his mind to trace the memories of his cousin. The camping trips to Sacramento. The sleepovers as kids. Spending time at the grandparents’ house. Playing high school basketball in the same league. The times at Christmas. As he processed his emotions, he by nature started to think about others. His family. His teammates. And his responsibilities to both.

There was a Sunday practice, then a Monday game against Charlotte, when he had 23 points and 10 assists.

“I have to put those emotions to the side to care about the game and make sure I’m here for my teammates, and to do my job, because my job takes care of a lot of my family. It does a lot of things for people in my family,” Lillard said. “I think understanding that is what helps me kind of push forward.”

He doesn’t view it as a sacrifice — having to compose himself and perform while holding his pain — because he credits his family for shaping him and guiding him to the person and place he is today. By performing at a high level, it is somewhat of a payback.

“I know that my success makes them happy,” Lillard said. “Every game we play, my whole entire family is at home watching. They don’t miss a game. I know that does something positive for them, and that it means something to them, and that’s a major part of our happiness as a family and us being able to continue forward and stay together.”

So as he heads to the Moda Center on Wednesday and Thursday, he will compartmentalize his personal life and his professional life. He will do it for his family. And he will do it for his teammates and coaches.

“When we play, it’s like, well, right now this is the most important thing,” Lillard said. “I will handle everything else, and I will get back to everything else, after that. That’s where I’ve been. Each game I go into the game and I say ‘This is the most important thing right now. This is what I have to do.’ And that’s just how I’ve been carrying it.”

Lillard is stoic by nature, and while he is often easy with a smile, he noted in 2019 that he rarely is moved to cry.

“I’m not an emotional person,” Lillard said.

But in the past year, his family landscape has experienced such tectonic shifts that its ripple effects have reached Lillard and affect him to this day. In May of 2020, he checked in on the Portland-area home of his cousin and personal chef, Brandon Johnson, and found him dead on the kitchen floor. Brandon, or Chef B as he was called, was 35.

“I stood over his body, man. Like, he was dead. Minutes. I’m standing over his body,” Lillard said. “People don’t know what type of trauma that is, and what that is to have somebody that close to you laid out and you stand over him. Like, I still struggle with that. You know what I mean? Like, I still struggle with that. That’s a battle for me.”

That morning, Lillard called teammate CJ McCollum, who was also close to Johnson, and when McCollum arrived, the two cried together in the kitchen.

“I was hurt by that,” Lillard said. “I cried a lot. Just hurt … I was with B every day, and in the summers when I would travel to train, he would come and make sure I was eating right. I was with him every day. Talked with him every day. Sat there with him every day. So that one just had me hurt. To this day.”

The emotional toll has reminded Lillard of a lesson engrained by Phil Beckner, his former college assistant coach and current trainer. Beckner observed how much Lillard pours into those around him, and worried that he would eventually be drained. His message was that Lillard needed to let others pour into him.

“I’ve been doing it now more than ever,” Lillard said. “Because if I didn’t, I would be no good.”

One way he has been replenished is by family Zoom calls during the pandemic.

“It hasn’t been all the time, but since we’ve been dealing with stuff the last year or so we’ve been checking in with each other, praying over each other, and telling each other we love each other,” Lillard said. “I think stuff like that is what has been helping me just be OK, you know?”

As Lillard returned from Los Angeles last weekend, he found himself reflecting on where his life has been, and where it is going.

In January, he and his fiancee, Kay’La, welcomed twins — son Kalii and daughter Kali. They join 2 1/2-year-old son, Damian Jr.

It was hard for him not to think about last week and his own family’s circle of life.

“Two come in … couple go out,” Lillard said.

Usually, at this time in a season, his mind would be on solving the relentless traps and double teams opponents are sending his way, or how he could lift one of his teammates to heights they never imagined.

But instead, he finds himself surrounded by sorrow and pain, and the realization that little, if anything, can make it feel better.

It’s why he seems irritated by recent events on social media and the negativity from keyboard warriors who identify him as a jersey, not a person.

“I’ll say this — it’s been bittersweet for me the last year and a half,” Lillard said. “A lot of people don’t know, because I don’t seek sympathy, I don’t make excuses. I just show up. It’s like, you get on Twitter and people have so much to say. And when I post on Instagram, people have soooo much to say. ‘You didn’t do this’ … ‘Your team is never going to win a championship’ … you know, everybody just got so much negative shit to say. And I’m just looking at it like, I’m coming out here to practice every day, I show up for my team every damn game. I don’t make excuses. I just do stuff the right way. And I perform. I show up. If shit goes bad, I don’t shy away from it. I say, ‘My bad. I wasn’t good enough.’ When shit goes well, I don’t say it was all me. And that’s not just me trying to do the right thing. I say how I feel about stuff and how I see these situations.

“I think there’s a lot of people who don’t take into consideration that we have lives, too,” Lillard said.

It angers him more than it hurts him, and it angers him because he is hurt. He feels pain just like we do. All the money he has earned and all the fame that has followed him throughout his career is not enough to insulate him from the real-world realities of his hometown of Oakland, and his Brookfield neighborhood.

“When I say I’m from Oakland, and I’m from the neighborhood, people think just because of how I am — thankful for my family, how successful I am and for who the world knows me to be — they could never imagine how close I am to stuff that is really happening, stuff that really goes on,” Lillard said. “Because I just show up and keep playing. So when you think about people having something to say — just talking shit — man, you all have no idea.

“They think because I make money and people know who I am, and that I play in the NBA, they think that’s just it. But it’s been a hard year-and-a-half, man. Trying to keep my mind right, keep my mind clear, and staying present with my kids and family …”

It’s a snapshot into the fury that at times can rage inside of Lillard, and a glimpse at the scars the past 18 months have left.

He says that fury has seeped its way onto the basketball court lately.

“I think it has affected basketball to where sometimes I’m a little more emotional in the games,” Lillard said. “I might get fouled and I might be a little more pissed off. Like, I usually get mad, but I might be getting a little more mad.”

It’s all a reflection of what has become the most trying and emotional stretch of his life. And yet, he finds a reason to play. A reason to excel.

That reason was recently relayed to assistant coach Nate Tibbetts. On Sunday, after the Blazers’ practice, Lillard said Tibbetts checked in on Lillard to see how he was doing. The two have become close, and Lillard presented Tibbetts with a snapshot of life from his home.

“I told Nate it’s been weird, my son (Damian Jr.) has been like ‘Dad … Dad … Dad … every 30 seconds,”’ Lillard said. “Dad, let’s go downstairs. Dad, let’s watch TV. Dad, play dinosaur. Over and over. And I told Nate that it just brought me happiness, that he was calling me ‘Dad’ over and over. He doesn’t know what’s going on with me, but he knows I’m his dad.”

If Lillard leaves the room, Junior stops what he is doing and follows.

“And when I’m holding the twins and feeding them, just knowing they belong to me, and that one day they are going to feel as strongly about me as Junior?” Lillard said. “It helps things a lot when you come home to that.”

https://theathletic.com/2424011/2021/03/03/portland-trailblazers-damian-lillard/