What It's Like Covering Nikola Jokic
Greatness sneaks up on you
I can’t remember when I realized it.
I wish I did. In the story in your head, there’s a moment where the great realization dawns on you.
“I’m watching the best player in the world.”
But no, for me, covering Nikola Jokic was a process of constantly setting what I thought was a reasonable ceiling on what he could be and then being left with the pieces when he smashed through it. Over and over.
My colleague, friend, and former cohost Adam Mares has the best version of this story. He saw it from the beginning. I don’t know how he saw the pudgy Serbian center who was as goof as it gets and saw a Hall of Famer, but he did. He’ll tell you he didn’t think Jokic could be this good, but he’s lying. Whenever I pressed Adam on it in those early days to tease him, he wouldn’t put limits on how good he could be.
Instead, I took the skeptical side because I’m the Grinch on the Hill regarding young players who may or may not work out. His slow feet, awkward movements, lack of athleticism, and the very idea of him being a pass-first big man struck me as amusing but ultimately without impact.
It took all of three months to turn me around.
In time, the idea of Jokic as a star went from a funny idea, to a serious one quickly. The text evolved from “wouldn’t it be funny if” to “hey, haha, I think he might actually be great, haha” to “OK, so he’s great” to “OK, he’s one of the best players in the league” to “OK, is he the MVP?” to “Is he one of the best players… ever?”
This was in the span of five years.
GROWING UP JOKER
Watching Jokic mature and evolve as a professional athlete was fascinating.
I’ve often said that media doesn’t ever really get to know players, we get to know shades of them, versions of them. That’s true for most people you’ll meet in life, but most interactions don’t come with the complications of media-player.
As a member of the media, you have so much interest in everything Jokic does and says, and he has so little to no interest in yours. It’s not fandom, but it behaves in the same way. It’s a loveless fandom.
Still, I watched him go from a goofy kid who was just happy to be there to a seasoned professional bored and weary of the monotony of the league, from a second-round pick driving a very ordinary car to the guy wearing suits that cost more than most people’s paycheck and driving custom luxury rides.
Jokic is so polished now and more serious. He wears designer clothes to his postgame pressers. He’s still funny, but less so with media, in part because it got pretty tiresome for him to say things, and then people laughed expecting jokes when he was serious.
Jokic hates, or at least strongly dislikes, doing media. A Nuggets source recently said, “He hates you guys (the media). Well, he doesn’t hate you; he hates doing it.”
(He might hate me. Fair, honestly.)
And that’s pretty apparent, even though Jokic is always professional and courteous when he does arrive at the podium. He’s a better locker room interview and better in informal situations.
His still-incomplete English is part of that equation. Imagine having to give press conferences in front of the world in response to questions you don’t have beforehand in a language that isn’t native to you. Then throw in that we have to ask the same questions repeatedly due to the nature of the sport, and you have a recipe for boredom and general antipathy.
Still, Jokic finishes every presser with “Pleasure, like always.”
HE’S A BIRD
I learned early on not to ask Jokic X’s and O’s questions; he doesn’t think of the game that way. That’s part of what’s so remarkable about him: he can’t explain the things he sees in the game. He just knows them. He can call out opponent plays and make fourth-level reads but it’s all intuitive.
Once in the locker room a young reporter was plotting his question for why Jokic decided to do A instead of B, and I cautioned him against it.
“You’re thinking of him as a creature of logic. You know how birds instinctively make incredibly complex flight patterns and decisions with no known consciousness?” I asked.
“He’s a bird.”
That doesn’t mean he’s dumb. (He’s not.) It doesn’t mean he’s not crafty. (He is.) And it doesn’t mean he doesn’t think through the game. He does, but he does it intuitively, instinctively, without a decision. That’s partly why he’s so far ahead of everyone else in decision-making and basketball IQ.
The best questions for Jokic are about his teammates and what they have done well in a game or season, about opponents and how good they are. He’s effusive with his praise for others, dismissive of praise for himself. The tone of his answers in regards to how he plays is always “I don’t know why I’m good at it, I just am.”
HUMBLE BRAG
I can’t tell you what questions Jokic likes to answer; I still haven’t found one. The only answer might be “questions in Serbian or about Serbia from Serbian reporters.”
I can tell you what he doesn’t like: things about himself.
I’ve been asked several times if Jokic really is as humble as he seems, particularly in regards to the MVP.
Jokic is competitive, that much is clear, and likely wants the MVP more than his answers suggest, and is proud of them more than his attitude suggests. But his reticence to answer questions about his three (and counting) MVP awards has helped him to avoid those questions from us locally for the most part.
For a long time, Jokic would not admit to being the best player on the Nuggets. I would ask him about it from time to time and he’d first say no, it wasn’t him, it was someone else. Then, he’d say it doesn’t matter, that anyone could be the best player that night.
I kept asking because to me it was the best way to track his evolution and to define what separates him from so many stars. He genuinely doesn’t care that he’s the best player on the team, but also, in the NBA, you have to embrace that to lead and control the game.
But Jokic has always resisted it and that’s in part what makes teammates love playing with him. (Also he’s really awesome and makes them look great.)
LOVE AND BASKETBALL
Finally, there’s always the conversation about whether Jokic loves basketball or not.
It took time for me to understand it, but this is the best answer I can give from my perspective, which may or may not be accurate. (Again, I don’t know him.)
Nikola Jokic loves basketball. He dislikes the NBA.
The monotony of the regular season. The media. The travel. The number of games. The style, in part, even if he’s so good at it.
He loves being in the gym and playing with his teammates and friends. He loves the competition and winning. He takes it personally, and he takes it hard.
Years ago, after the Nuggets’ first playoff loss to the Blazers, he went into Michael Malone’s office and apologized for letting the team down after the game.
But the league is a business, and Jokic has had to come to understand that. This isn’t Jokic-specific. It has happened with every player through their time in the league. It goes from a game to a job. There are good things about the job and fun things about it, but to be great, it has to be business.
And Jokic is incredibly great.
Jokic has a lot more basketball left in him, if he chooses to play until he’s no longer elite. There are a lot more memories for him to make for fans.
As a reporter covering him, it’s been surreal to experience the rise of the most unexpected MVP second-hand and to know every time I step in the building, I’m watching one of the best to ever play a timeless game. It’s a daunting honor, watching greatness unfold.