There’s a moment that I always look for in Steve Prefontaine’s old race footage. It’s something you have to really track down, since it could happen at seemingly any part of a run, but it always happens; you just have to know what you’re looking for. I look for the precise instance s in which he broke the wills of his opponents. It’s a tricky thing to hunt sometimes. There are plenty of occasions in which the other runners aren’t even in the same frame as Prefontaine. Occasions in which he started off at that self-described suicidal pace, and left everyone eating his dust, testing their will from the very outset. But most of the time, you can see them, just behind him, clinging to the sheer violence of the velocity. The film quality of the time prevents you from really seeing detail in the faces, but you can tell that they’re exhausted from body posture alone. Sometimes they hunch a little, or their shoulders droop, or their running frame looks compromised in one way or another.   It’s a powerful contrast to the man out in front of them — with Prefontaine’s body so upright that it almost looks rigid. You almost get a sense of tirelessness, even from the distance of the camera and 50-odd years of time. It’s easy to see how, in close quarters, that would feel demoralizing. Meter by meter, you can see the other runners cracking under the weight of it. The slumping becomes more pronounced, the form comprised by the need for better airflow, the pain in the lungs mirrored in the rest of the body. And then it happens. You can’t see the expressions, but the head suddenly shoots downward to the feet, or up towards the sky, as if in a state of exasperated inquiry, and the speed begins to taper off. “Someone may beat me, but they’re going to have to bleed to do it”, Prefontaine once said prior to the 5,000-meter race in the 1972 Olympics. And after thirteen and a half minutes of running, he became one of the most famous 4th-place finishers in the history of the modern Olympics. This was the cost of his methodology, of his refusal to approach running in an accepted mode of strategy. Running full-bore from the outset, Prefontaine was vulnerable in the closing laps of a race, having saved no final burst for it. On more than a few occasions, this point of vulnerability has occurred to me when watching Victor Wembanyama and the Spurs in the latter half of games. The team has frequently been outstanding in the first half. Going by quarter, they’re 7th in the NBA in 1st quarter scoring, and 6th in the 2nd quarter. They come out chomping at the bit, determined to blow the opposition out of the water, to put the whole game to rest before halftime, and sometimes they do. They rank in the top 10 in both scoring and offensive rating. They can really pour the points on when they’re hot, and their top 3 defense (by rating) is suffocating. However, if a team manages to weather the storm in that first half, the Spurs become vulnerable. This is hardly a surprise for anyone who’s witnessed the freefall of their almost legendary ‘turd-quarters’ (they rank 17th in 3rd quarter scoring), but that their 4th quarter scoring is almost as bad (16th) may come as a bit of a shock. Whether by design or predisposition, San Antonio’s pacing just isn’t quite there yet, and not unlike Steve Prefontaine, when faced with stiffer competition, they have a tendency to gas themselves in an effort to break the will of the opposition. Privately, I do wonder if this has a little to do with Victor Wembanyama. Certainly, he’s been injured and on a minutes restriction, but it feels like a pattern that’s been playing out since his arrival in the NBA, masked by the flaws of the teams of previous seasons. Though somewhat veiled, there appears to be a will not just to defeat, but to dominate the opposition within Wemby, not unlike a quieter San Antonio big man about whom LeBron James once keenly pointed out: “There are different ways to kill.” The difference between those two San Antonio legends, I believe, is in pacing. From the outset, it always seemed as if Tim Duncan had a perfect sense of how to place himself within the ebbs and flows of the game. He made it look effortless, but there was a keen understanding of where to pick his spots. It was something unique to him, more reminiscent of Bill Russell than Michael Jordan. On the other hand, no one would have accused Duncan of being a trailblazer. That is, however, something Wembanyama aspires to. It’s the nature of the unique to push back on the standard of the time. Both he (and the team) want to crush the opposition from the outset, but thus far, they don’t have the stamina for it. To be clear, this is not a condemnation of their desire. Prefontaine was only 21 years old when he competed in that 5,000-meter final in Munich, the youngest of the entrants by far. The winner was almost three years older.   And yet, he came within meters of taking it on his first try, surging back into the lead multiple times in the final laps. He left the stadium convinced that it was a failure of body, not of strategy, and trained accordingly. By the time of his death, just a year before the 1976 Olympics, he held every American long-distance running record from 2000m to 10,000. It’s terrifying to think of what Wembanyama and company could do if they can figure out their pacing and match their stamina to the task. There will still be those who also rise to the occasion against them, like Anthony Edwards did last night. I just wonder, if/when these Spurs do figure it out, will those opposing performances really matter? Watching Prefontaine, I’m not so sure. Takeaways It’s nice to be able to say nice things about Harrison Barnes again, who had fallen off the cliff shooting-wise in a way that had just about every fan concerned. However, he’s sh0t 40% or better in 5 of the last eight games, so he seems to be coming out of it. Which is incredibly important because he’s the only player the Spurs really have at power forward who can both defend well and knock it down from three, which is already critical to spacing even with Devin Vassell, much less without him. Wemby and De’Aaron Fox had a lot of room to operate last night, and it was in no small part to Barnes and company hitting those shots. Overall, the team has chosen a great time to break out of their shooting slump, as Denver (rather shockingly) holds their ground, and Minnesota surges. It’s a small sample size, but the Spurs are back in the top 10 in 3-point percentage and threes made over the last three games. More of that please! Mitch Johnson also appears to have made some minor adjustments to the offense, with De’Aaron Fox getting more time on-ball than in the recent past, and the benefits have been immediate, with the Spurs ranking 7th in scoring and 6th in offensive rating over the last two games. An even bigger boon has been Castle’s success from an off-ball position, where he’s still effectively driving, cutting, and dishing, while shooting 50% from three. If Castle can keep that up, this Spurs offense gets scary quickly. I can’t say enough good things about Keldon Johnson. He remains a critical injection of life into every contest and has been remarkably consistent and efficient. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Keldon remains vital and effective. I think it’s safe to say he’s found his place within the team, and I expect to see him doing the same for years to come. It’s almost moving how he never let the years tanking get to him. Oh, and he’s also averaging 20 points per 36 minutes. What a mensch! Playing You Out – The Theme Song of the Evening: Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger by Daft Punk ...read more read less