Having never gotten very far talking his team into closing out a playoff series, DeMar DeRozan came at the problem sideways on Tuesday.
This year, he's trying to get the other side to – in Barry Trotz's formulation – throw itself off the cliff rather than wait to be pushed.
"They're a great team, a young team," DeRozan said of Milwaukee. "This is definitely going to be an experience they're going to learn from and carry over."
It's a strange thing to say about a team you haven't yet beaten, but the Raptors have never been shy with the psychological warfare. Much of it, at this time of year, directed inwardly.
If history is our guide, it's not going to be easy. Not because the Bucks look particularly good, but because this is Toronto.
One thing has remained consistent throughout the Raptors four-year postseason surge – inconsistency.
During that stretch, the Raptors have played in six different series. They never won a Game 1.
They've played 36 total games. They've never taken three in a row.
They've been up 3-2 three times. It's always gotten to a seventh game.
They didn't just lose all those Game 6s. They were massacred in them – the average deficit is 18 points.
Usually, these swings from good Raptors to bad Raptors are whiplash and have no obvious explanation aside from approach.
"We have a tendency to come out relaxed after we get a win and you can't do that in playoff basketball," coach Dwane Casey said before Game 5.
Whether you can or can't, the Raptors repeatedly do. No amount of youthful exuberance, or experience, or added confidence, or veteran presence has been able to waylay that pernicious trend.
If the current Raptors have an identity, it's that their identity is awfully hard to pin down night to night. They are a team that shoots straight, except for those times when they don't.
This may be why more casual or non-basketball fans haven't glommed on to this franchise in recent years. If a newbie dives in on a random playoff night, the odds are pretty good that he or she is going to see the Raptors roll over and die in the first ten minutes. It's a small, off-putting barrier to fan investment.
Rooting for an unfamiliar team involves a suspension of disbelief – you may know they aren't world beaters, but you want to be convinced it's possible. Because why else bother? The newly returned Leafs managed it this year. The Raptors never have. They're a skilled, fun, charismatic squad, but the one-step-forward, one-step-back playoff stagger makes them difficult to love.
Having recognized the problem – which is hard to avoid, since they're constantly reminded of it – the Raptors have developed a coping mechanism. It is to loudly repeat at all points in a series that every game is a Game 7 to them. On Tuesday, DeRozan and DeMarre Carroll both hammered at the idea. DeRozan called it "another" Game 7.
It's a nice theory, but if it worked, I'd finally be able to file my taxes on time by adopting the mantra, "Every day is April 30th."
Regardless of what they say, the Raptors' belief that they are an elite team remains a hypothesis. It's probably true, but we haven't seen the proof. On Thursday, further experiments will be conducted.
Whatever the outcome, DeRozan's mind is already in Cleveland: "[Playing full out] is what we're going to need to do in the next round, because the next team is waiting."
Forget about the usual "one-game-at-a-time" nonsense that has become the banal currency of the NBA. Good basketball teams know they're good. They know which opponents they should beat, and which they probably can't. There is something farcical about watching the LeBron Jameses of the world pretending to be intimidated by first-round opponents at this time of year. If they were the sort of players to be genuinely awed by seventh or eighth seeds, they wouldn't be winning titles. Though it need not be shouted about, a sizable amount of arrogance is a prerequisite to greatness.
It's heartening to see DeRozan has found that perspective. His teammates are still searching for it, at least publicly.
In the way that today's athletes like to throw around plausible ideas like they are dead certainties, Carroll called the upcoming Game 6 "a must win."
That isn't true, but it sort of is.
If the Raptors can't close out a Bucks team in increasing disarray, they do two things – weaken their own cause and strengthen the Cavaliers'.
Last year, the Raptors turned pro basketball into continental shift work. They played just about every other day for six weeks – an enormous physical grind on bodies this big after a full season of knicks, bruises, tears and pulls. DeRozan called the pace "brutal." They are similarly banged up now.
Kyle Lowry continues to nurse "back stiffness" – which, for all anyone knows at the moment, could be a slipped disc. Lowry was in visible pain during Monday's Game 5.
(Asked if Lowry's feeling better, DeRozan said on Tuesday, "Y'all overreact to Kyle. I don't overreact to Kyle." I'm not sure what that means, but he sounded cheerful as he said it. So place your bets accordingly.)
Undisclosed other Raptors are also hurt, and, again, you'd be guessing at whom or how badly.
With each passing series, their effectiveness diminishes. If you are a team of aspiration, a loss at this time of year isn't just one missed opportunity. It's two. It's both the present outcome and the future chance to take a couple of days off.
So, with a fit and rested Cleveland awaiting them, Thursday's Game 6 may actually be a Game 7. Not right now. But in the only way that counts for a team that keeps telling us it is better than the sum of its results.
Cathal Kelly