There’s a good chance that if you’re reading this, you’ve probably seen Frank Kaminsky dance. If by some miracle you haven’t had the opportunity, an introduction to his unique style awaits in several places online. The internet forgets nothing, as much as you’d sometimes wish otherwise.
The quality of Kaminsky’s dancing is hard to gauge. He engages each move with self-deprecating purposefulness, and each swinging arm and gyrating hip testifies to the challenge his size represents. It’s hard to look smooth at 7-feet-tall and 240-plus pounds and Kaminsky knows it.
Still, that’s part of the charm. He is the karaoke singer in all of us, a few cocktails too deep to care if you’re off-key or if anyone’s listening. Instead, he’s sober and on national television, embracing each shimmy in a way most public figures, and especially athletes known specifically for their physical prowess, rarely would. He trips the light fantastic in size 18 shoes, and the carefree honesty more than makes up for any lack of skill.
It puts Kaminsky in a difficult spot, however, helping shape the lens through which his basketball career is viewed. Scan past stories on him dating back to his days at the University of Wisconsin, and you’ll find them littered with phrases like “awkward” and “goofy,” unusual descriptors of someone who makes a living playing basketball. That perception of the man nicknamed the “Sleepy-Eyed Assassin” cutting a rug is hard to separate from the one who launched 3-pointers at a 36.9 percent clip, as he did during his four-year collegiate career.
Looking at Kaminsky’s short NBA tenure is further clouded by reports that Charlotte Hornets’ owner Michael Jordan turned down a treasure trove of future picks for the ninth spot in the 2015 draft, where Kaminsky was eventually selected. The Hornets’ front office has swung and missed on a number of moves in their quest to bring the Queen City a championship. Passing up on a chance to assemble the building blocks of a long-time contender, as Jordan reportedly did, is hard to accept when you’re stuck dancing in place.
Any appreciation of Kaminsky’s solid contributions since is smothered by the pre-existing noise. The disappointed moans over what could have been underneath the question-marked box make it difficult to hear the easy-listening hits accompanying the 7-foot Badger grooving behind Curtain No. 1.
When asked about how the draft impacted these perceptions, Kaminsky wasn’t overly concerned with alternative realities from nearly two years ago. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all,” he explained to The Step Back. “If anything, it just adds fuel to the fire. I’m not…there’s really nothing I can do about it now. I’m here and I can either make the most of the situation or I can sit there and think about people criticizing me for what could have been or what is not.”
The response isn’t surprising. In the typical parlance of the NBA, slights both real and perceived are essential, providing the means to power through challenges related to basketball and not. But Kaminsky didn’t grow up like everyone else, both literally and figuratively. A blog he wrote years ago while at Wisconsin offers a candid view of what it was like to be taller than everyone, feeling “picked on and ostracized.” Friends were hard to come by; Kaminsky explains he didn’t really have one until he was in the fourth grade.
The sport was an opportunity to test the waters of socialization, the “means to meet people” as Kaminsky puts it both succinctly and innocently. After all, athleticism, if not extroversion, was in his genes: his father, Frank Kaminsky Jr., played collegiate basketball at Lewis University; his mother, Mary, was a volleyball star at Northwestern. But even as the younger Kaminsky excelled in basketball, it never defined him: “basketball is not who I am, it’s what I love to do,” he writes in an entry from back in 2014.
What the sport did is give Kaminsky free reign to find himself, to develop that self-described “goofball” personality. It provided the space where a gangly kid can be anything he wants and find the acceptance, both from himself and others, long denied.
Kaminsky’s appreciation for basketball grew almost as quickly as he did but that didn’t translate into immediate success. He attended the Benet Academy in Woodridge, Illinois (just miles from where he grew up on Chicago’s South Side) but struggled to find his way on the court, playing as a 6-foot-3 guard that wasn’t the most adept ball handler.
But time passed and his fondness for the game became an outright love affair. Kaminsky put in the requisite work just as a growth spurt would have him entering his junior year six inches taller. He wasn’t one of the most sought-after recruits in the nation, still lanky and undeveloped muscularly, but there were enough flashes to make him an interesting project. After scoring 15 points against fellow Chicagoan Jabari Parker, it was enough to garner a scholarship to the University of Wisconsin, where Kaminsky finally found a home.
“The best four years of my life,” he says today of his time at Madison.
Wisconsin provided the perfect platform for Kaminsky to continue jaunting between the worlds of intense competition and self-expression. Days filled with basketball being played at the highest levels of amateurism led to nights in messy apartments shared with teammates playing video games (and occasional dancing). A team led by Kaminsky and current Houston Rockets forward Sam Dekker would advance to the Final Four in 2013, when the former was just a junior.
The NBA was a possibility at that point. The boy who had only played the sport to become accepted, the one who had cried when he was cut from his AAU team at age 15, was now a legitimate prospect. He’d have access to wealth and all of the perks that come with it.
Of course, he’d decide to stay for another year.
He was, in every way, the big man on Wisconsin’s campus and, as he announced to the world, “The NBA can wait.”
Kaminsky remains the most loyal of fans to his alma-mater. Sleepy eyes perk wide in describing his time there and words like “loyalty” and “pride” invariably find their way into the conversation. At the time he spoke to The Step Back, the Badgers were still cruising through this year’s NCAA Tournament. “I love that school and I want to see them do well,” he explained. “I’m just always going to support and defend it.”
There’s a joy in his description that makes it difficult not to empathize with Kaminsky. One almost wishes that he could have ended his time at Wisconsin with a championship, neatly providing the storybook ending we love to attach to sports. Instead, that chapter ended unceremoniously and continued trending downward upon Kaminsky’s entry into the NBA.
But the pen is in Kaminsky’s sizable hands and he refuses to give up on success, no matter how likely that seemed when he was drafted. An adjustment was necessary but he’s made it and keeps making it, growing as a player that, at just 23, is far from his peak.
“I think he’s made great gains this year,” said Steve Clifford, Charlotte’s head coach. It’s been a rough year for the Hornets and for Clifford, who had always managed to adapt his team’s style and make the most of talent that was far from the league’s upper echelon. This year’s group was arguably the best he’s coached but has fallen short of expectations. They’ve likely fallen out of the playoff race at this point but Clifford, to his credit, remained positive and upbeat, especially in his description of Kaminsky.
“Really the last six, seven weeks, he’s really played well, by far the best that he’s played,’ Clifford added. “You know, obviously he’s got great size, great feel for the game. And he’s a good competitor. I feel like he’s made really good progress.”
Clifford dismissed the noise that accompanied Kaminsky’s selection with a casual wave, water under a bridge. He sees only the positives when it comes to his backup forward, who’s seen an uptick in his playing time in recent games; Kaminsky has averaged nearly 14 points per game since coming back from injury in mid-March.
“He’s a good worker, a very committed player,” said Clifford. “I’m really happy with him. I think he’s going to be a really, really good player.”
Kaminsky himself plays down the gains he’s made, instead looking at what still needs to be done.
“Just being more consistent,” he said when asked what needs to improve most. “I’ve just been up-and-down. Sometimes there just doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason. You’re just in a funk and you feel like you can’t get out of it. Sometimes when things are going well, you feel like you can do anything. That’s just how the season’s been. Just…highs and lows.”
Words like “worker” and “committed” are hard to equate with the image of Kaminsky that’s most clearly etched in memory, in no small part due to the man himself. You’re just as likely to see him knocking down a 25-foot jumper as you are to see him bathing in a tub of rainbow-colored Skittles candy.
That dichotomous nature makes Kaminsky equal parts interesting and difficult to confine. Both introverted and eager to draw attention, he remains a mystery. Effort has clearly been made to take the leap in his career but he eschews the label that being in the NBA is work. “I never viewed college as job. I’ve never viewed this as a job. I’m just having fun and doing what I love to do.”
Charlotte’s season is winding down but Kaminsky remains focused on getting better, disproving the doubters that clamored otherwise when he was child or in high school, at Madison, Wisconsin or following the 2015 Draft.
“It’s not always easy to block everything out,” admits Kaminsky. “But you still have to go out there and perform. That’s what it’s about. Like I told you earlier, I love this game and I’m going to do whatever I can to stick around for as long as I can.”
“Perform” is such an apt word for a career on the rise, one that has grown to love the spotlight, and is sure to include a few carefree dance steps along the way.