Making an appearance on the “Hot Ones” YouTube series back in October 2024, Jaylen Brown elucidated one of the best insights on the game of basketball I’ve ever heard. “I look at basketball as like poetry in motion, which is music, and everybody is playing their own song,” Brown commented to host Sean Evans. “Everybody samples from different artists, and they’re playing their own song and if you wanna stop them you gotta study their rhythm.”
In many ways, basketball and jazz are one and the same. There’s a controlled chaos to both: Each tune has a start and end point, as does each set on the court, but the magic — getting a bucket or bringing a song to life — happens in between. No two players can do a crossover exactly the same or share the same jumpshot, and no two jazz musicians will ever play a tune in the same style, even if the notes stay unchanged.
My mind hasn’t quite been able to shake this comparison over the last couple days. And today, my thoughts drifted to a comparison between Miles Davis and Kevin Durant. Both are indisputably legends of their crafts, so I’m a bit ashamed to admit I’ve only recently come to fully understand the magnitude of their individual accomplishments. But as I think more and more about it, I truly think there is a bond between the two figures that transcends the boundary of sports and music. I will do my best to explain.
Durant is undeniably in the twilight of his career. To me, what we’re seeing as he guides a young, scrappy Rockets team to new heights is similar to what Davis was able to accomplish alongside his legendary second quintet. Joined by relative up-and-comers Wayne Shorter, Tony Williams, Herbie Hancock and Ron Carter, Davis seamlessly departed from his renowned style in favor of something different.
Durant is in a similar situation. He arguably has less responsibility on the court than ever before — lest one forget, this is the same guy that was teammates with Stephen Curry in his prime — and instead of trying to force things in this role, he has adjusted brilliantly. For both figures in these respective eras, success was found in moments where they trusted others and ceded some responsibility. None of the seven works on the second quintet’s third album, “Sorcerer,” were composed by Davis; a few games ago, Durant let teammate Alperen Sengun take the ball 92 feet against Giannis Antetokounmpo with the game on the line.
If you track back further in their careers, there are plenty of parallels to be made. Perhaps Durant’s 2012 finals run was his “Birth Of The Cool”: a rising star announcing himself as one of the best in the game. Both figures’ legacies have been defined by reinvention, Davis across jazz genres and Durant across coaching systems. Both have excelled regardless.
But really, this comparison is hard to put into words. To truly understand what I’m getting at, one simply has to roll some of Durant’s highlights and spin some of Davis’ records. Then, you’ll be able to understand the similarities in their rhythms. Durant dribbles how Davis plays: They’re both self-assured, dangerously precise and creatively brilliant.
Unfortunately, Miles is long gone, leaving only his musical catalog behind. But — lucky us — Durant is still going, and if the heroic work of Davis’ second quintet proves anything, he might still have a bit left in the tank.
