Around this time last year, Toronto was in the midst of its final collective push to get Kyle Lowry into the All-Star Game. Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment was so successful in its get-out-the-vote campaign, it ought to consult in Iowa.
Up until that mid-season variety show, Lowry had played in every Raptors game. Two weeks later, he skipped three nights of work. Then he missed nine more. His points totals, minutes per game and efficiency began to slide. He entered the post-season tired and broken.
The Raptors got swept in April, but they lost the playoffs in December and January.
With that in mind, it's all-star time again. It was announced Thursday that Lowry was voted onto the NBA's Eastern Conference team by fans.
Backcourt partner DeMar DeRozan will join him when the coaches fill out the benches next week. With the game being held in Toronto, consider that a lock.
A few years ago, there was one way you could imagine a world in which the Toronto Raptors fielded a starting five with two all-stars: by consuming huge amounts of hallucinogens. In the resultant fever dream, the Roy Hibbert trade never happened and, like Franklin the Turtle, Andrea Bargnani had some sort of adventure that taught him how to care.
Instead, the Raptors lucked into DeRozan and Lowry. Then they lucked into not giving them away. Then they lucked into persuading them to want to stay (for now).
It also looks as if they may unluck themselves out of extracting full value from the best pair of players they've ever had.
On Thursday, Lowry went through the motions of pretending to care about making the all-star team while also trying hard to give the impression through tone and body language that it's not that big a deal.
"It would mean a lot to me," Lowry said flatly, eyes drifting up. "It would mean the fans really respect what I've done so far this season."
There are layers here, because Lowry does care. A lot. He cared so much last year, he ruined his season getting into what is a meaningless showcase (to everyone except the guys who get to play in it).
Raptors coach Dwane Casey must also pretend he cares if Lowry is or isn't an all-star. This one's a little simpler because Casey just doesn't care. If he does care, I feel fairly sure he'd rather he get passed over. An angry Lowry is an effective Lowry. Bottom line: Casey wants his point guard to win in the post-season. Anywhere else is gift wrapping.
Would Casey prefer to get past the all-star game, so that the club can enter a "let's get ready for the playoffs" state of mind?
"No. You can't skip any parts of the process …" – whenever Casey exhumes that dreaded word, you know his mind is not in a good place – "… there are different portions of the season you've got to play. The dog days – after the All-Star Game, before the All-Star Game – all that is part of the process we've got to fight through."
So, in other words, "Yes."
Currently, the biggest problem facing the Raptors is that they're winning. They sit second in the Eastern Conference. Some Pollyannas, forgetting how this story turned out last year, have begun wondering if Toronto can overtake Cleveland. (Here's the short answer on that one: "No." Here's the long answer: "No, dummy.")
While the Raptors may be winning, they aren't winning well. They've taken six in a row, but in their past four games, they've allowed their opponents to shoot better than 45 per cent from the field.
(When someone brought up the number, Casey corrected him: "Five. It's been five games." It's been four, but you get the point – the coach is worried.)
Were you to average that number, it would put you among the worst defences in the league. The 76ers, who are just barely an NBA team, allow opponents to shoot 45.9 per cent.
Riding the offensive instincts of Lowry and DeRozan, the Raptors are winning jump-shooting contests. They won't win those in April. Because what was an uncontested 18-footer in January becomes a heaving no-hoper chucked over two defenders in the postseason. Come the spring, there will be no room to move on a basketball court, never mind shoot.
All-stars or no all-stars, home advantage or not, Toronto still isn't a team that will put the fear into anyone. Rather the opposite. It is a little too much like the run-and-gun Phoenix Suns – a regular-season team that cannot toughen up when it matters.
The Raptors brought in free agents DeMarre Carroll, Bismack Biyombo and Cory Joseph to solve that problem. There was more to it than expecting those three men to play physically. It was hoped that their example and personality would remake the team's basic identity. That it might somehow convince the Lowrys of the world that there was real glory in grinding another team down.
So far, it hasn't worked. Carroll's been fine when he's healthy, but he's never healthy. Biyombo and Joseph are admired, but still fringe figures.
This remains Lowry and DeRozan's team, with all that suggests about defence being the first priority (i.e. it isn't). The worst part of it is the success. How do you persuade people to change when what they're doing works, if only just for the moment? The answer: You can't.
You could pull guys aside and remind them that if this team loses a third first-round playoff series in a row, there will be huge pressure to blow it up. But they won't hear that either. They'll think what they thought last year: "We can turn it on when we need to." If it worked like that, everyone would coast into the postseason.
Lowry and DeRozan are the best backcourt this club has ever had. They're close to the best in the NBA. Yet, with best possible intentions, they are leading their team toward another playoff cliff.
Cathal Kelly