Kevin Love has seen the good, the bad and the ugly

“There’s a purity in it,” says Kevin Love between intermittent sips of his hotel-brewed cup of coffee. It’s January in Orlando and Love looks wistful as he talks about his favorite genre of film: the Western. In the minutes before an early morning shootaround begins, Love punctuates his responses with the occasional yawn but smiles broadly as he thinks about the simpler times that have been romanticized on the big screen. “Just the idea of the West, playing ‘cowboys and indians’ as a kid, I’ve always been drawn to it.” Love spreads his arms, still holding that cup of coffee, to symbolize the great expanse of the Old West, and pauses, almost as if imagining a tumbleweed rolling by, caught in a breeze only he can feel. “It’s liberating, I guess.”

In the weeks since, life has been anything but carefree for Love and the Cleveland Cavaliers, who have dropped five of their last six games and nine of their last 12. The mood around the Cavaliers’ locker room has been described by those most familiar with it as broken, perhaps beyond repair. A recent report from ESPN’s Adrian Wojnarowski indicates that Love himself has been targeted by teammates, questioning his dedication to the team’s quest for a fourth-straight trip to the NBA Finals.

Love’s tenure with Cleveland has been much like his favorite movie of all time — Sergio Leone’s classic “Spaghetti Western” The Good, The Bad and The Ugly — following the pattern of the film’s three titular protagonists, and the distinctions between those labels often blurring and overlapping. Love’s role with the Cavaliers has never been a secure one. As far back as 2014 and in his first year playing alongside LeBron James, Love was aware that a sacrifice would be required of him. Chris Bosh, fresh off his own four-year stint in Miami as James’ teammate, accurately predicted that it would be an ongoing transition.

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“I think early on, the changes were the most difficult,” explains Love, “Especially during the first two months. Adjusting to being the third — or sometimes second — option on some units. Playing different positions. Being out on the floor and asking me to do different things [than in Minnesota, where Love spent the first six years of his career].” The wins came often enough to help alleviate the pressure of constant adjustments; a title in 2016 rewarded them completely.

But the team has remained fluid ever since and the burden has intensified commensurately, with only the annual goal of a championship remaining fixed. Trading away Kyrie Irving last summer. Trying to integrate All-Star Isaiah Thomas while he still recovers from injury. A revolving door of supporting role players, spinning even more quickly as this season’s trade deadline fast approaches. “I feel like I’ve pretty much seen it all,” said Love.

The role Love plays on the team and the criticism he receives for it, from both without and within, is an incongruent and unpredictable mixture. He is a crucial part of Cleveland’s success yet his defensive lapses seem more egregious than his undoubtable skills as a scorer, passer and rebounder. With Irving in Boston and James beyond reproach, Love is often reduced to just a one-dimensional scapegoat, the most glaring reason for the Cavaliers’ defensive woes. Perhaps no other five-time All-Star has ever been linked to trade rumors as frequently as Love, perpetually unwanted despite his continued place as the team’s second-most important player.

Moreover, it seems as if Love’s very demeanor plays a factor in determining his overall value. It seems impossible to separate his on- and off-court personas, inasmuch as how they are perceived. There is the acerbic wit that reveals itself during his interactions with media, a public exterior that exudes a dry, casual vibe that borders on aloof. On the hardwood, if his defense — so often viewed as the manifestation of ultimate willpower — is lacking, it’s easier to infer that Love simply doesn’t care.

There’s no denying that he’s developed, at least superficially, an immunity to the career-long criticism. While no longer as vociferously unwelcome as he once was at the Target Center, his relationship with Timberwolves fans was, at best, complicated, despite being largely recognised as the franchise’s best player behind the passionate Kevin Garnett. In Cleveland, Love’s fluctuating role has spawned a seeming indifference; if change is a constant then resistance is absolutely futile. But in the ultimate example of mixed messages, James himself has flipped the script over the past four years from publicly (and surreptitiously) challenging Love’s fit on the team, to now embracing his stoic “Who gives a f__k?” approach.

It seems natural to question if Love, the person, cares — if not about his vacillating role or the criticism he can’t control — then about the sport itself, even if it shouldn’t factor into the perception of Love the player. At first, he only nods in the affirmative, slowly and deliberately, as if the mere suggestion of anything else is unfathomable. Then, he adds, “If I didn’t have basketball, I probably would’ve lost my mind. The game means everything to me.”

He expands on the work, on studying film, and preparing for each game with a quavering voice, and one wonders how his dedication can be so routinely disputed. It’s the minutiae so often overlooked that drives him. “I love showing up at the gym,” he says, “and doing all the little things when no one’s watching.” He reminds you that for himself, basketball wasn’t just a career choice, but a genetic inheritance — Kevin’s father, Stan, played four seasons in the NBA. “I believe basketball — and it really is — is just in my blood. It’s been a part of me for so long.”

There were rarely other interests for Love growing up, developing a singular focus on the sport he’s devoted to. When pressed, he admits that he likely would have done something in the medical field — “A doctor, probably” he says proudly — and while the answer is unexpected, there’s a steely resolve in his blue-eyed stare that indicates he probably could have achieved that goal if not for his success playing the game he loves.

In early January and with the experiment still in its infancy, Love seemed optimistic about the addition of Thomas, although he acknowledged that there would need to be further adaptation. “He means so much to this team that, I think, depending on the groups that he’s playing with, adjustments will be made. But, I’ve always adjusted here so [now] is a much easier time handling whatever they ask me to do out there.”

There was a feeling, too, that even if things were immediately difficult, they could be smoothed over, just as they always have. “There are times throughout the season where there will be growing pains and inconsistency for us. But we feel that, if we come to play and play hard, we’re a pretty tough team to beat. We just have to find our identity for the second half of the season and go from there.”

What seemed confident now seems impossible, with the Cavaliers still looking to add something to an already volatile mix, and a roster that seems fractured beyond the skills of any doctor that Love could ever have aspired to be.

Love isn’t exactly free of blame for Cleveland’s issues, nor is he the only player culpable. There’s a likely combination of many factors — James’ nebulous future with the team, constant roster upheaval, the fatigue of a win-it-all-or-bust mentality — and no easy solution. Perhaps Love is right and this bleak period will be a mere footnote in the season’s chronology. They have happened before, if not so severely, and things, as he noted in January, “have always paid off.”

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For his part, Love will continue to adjust, both succeeding and failing in the attempt, a great player that remains flawed. That might be his legacy, even if he is not the kind of person to consider these things or if that remains a conversation until years from now. But it’s no less interesting to ponder how the dichotomies of Love’s career will be viewed in the future. The good, the bad and, at least so far this season, an ugliness that he can play a part in sending off into the sunset.