What Is an NBA Star? Jimmy Butler Is Redefining the Word in Miami

Jimmy Butler is the primary reason why the Miami Heat are one game away from their first conference finals since LeBron James left. The 30-year-old carried them down the stretch in a tone-setting series opener against the top-seeded and favored Milwaukee Bucks, scoring 38 points before he knocked down two game-winning free throws with no time on the clock. In Game 3, he was +23 and attempted 19 free-throws, more than any player this postseason other than… Jimmy Butler, who was awarded 20 in Game 3 of Miami’s first-round win over the Indiana Pacers.

Miami’s offense croaks when he’s off the floor, understandably so when you take in his admirable postseason counting stats: 22.4 points, 5.0 rebounds, 4.0 assists, and 2.3 steals per game—a statistical threshold that’s only been met by five other active players, all of whom have either won a regular season or Finals MVP.

Speaking of MVPs, Butler has outplayed this year’s (probable) back-to-back winner Giannis Antetokounmpo on both ends, scoring in every conceivable way—be it on a back cut lob, a put-back of his own brick, or a good-old-fashioned pull-up three (he’s shooting 44 percent behind the line in this series after shooting 24.4 percent from distance during the regular season).

By almost any metric he’s one of best basketball players in the world. But for the past four years, in large part because he’s played for four teams and was traded three times, Butler’s standing in the NBA has been more precarious than any other perennial All-Star. Is he one of the league’s 15 best players? Top 10? Is his destiny that of an intractable run-of-the-mill star, best suited as a sidekick to someone like Karl-Anthony Towns or Joel Embiid? Or could Butler be something more, up to and including a verifiable leading man on a respectable title contender?

Over the weekend, Heat center Meyers Leonard called Butler the best player in this series. He isn’t necessarily wrong—Antetokounmpo’s narrow offensive skill-set will smear hopes of a championship run until corrected—but the statement made me think about how futile it can sometimes be to compare individual players in basketball. What we really want to know is, are they good enough to be the best player on a champion?

History tells us there are typically only seven or eight players who qualify in any given season. But instead of wondering if Butler is better than borderline cases like Bradley Beal, Damian Lillard, Jayson Tatum, or Nikola Jokic, a more helpful way to answer that question is by deciphering what he can be in in Erik Spoelstra’s system, surrounded by Miami’s specific collection of interdependent teammates.

Butler is the Heat’s best player and the Heat are a legitimate title contender. As impactful as Butler has been, that’s still a stunning statement when you look at his resume and only see two All-NBA teams (none higher than third), one top-10 MVP finish, and zero seasons higher than 14th overall in scoring. You have to think back to the last two San Antonio Spurs finals teams for a comparison, and even then an aging Tim Duncan and Tony Parker still made All-NBA teams, to say nothing of young Kawhi Leonard’s steady progress towards stardom. That underlines the importance of context: few stars have found a more agreeable stylistic, cultural, and strategic fit with the team they play for.

So often, even the most scintillating NBA stars are at the mercy of their team’s front office, yearning for an extra shooter, ball-handler, source of rim protection, or whatever it might be, to help complete the roster. Butler has magically avoided this in Miami, a utopia for the player he’s always been and has long strived to be. There’s no need to tinker with a single roster spot. The stars have aligned and it’s a pleasure to behold.

Miami’s team is an organized collection of excellent role players who all complement each other in a system that expertly delineates responsibility. There is a clear pecking order, but it doesn’t inhibit anybody else’s progress. The Heat culture is a lot of things, but what separates it from every other ethos based on hard work, determination, and other sports-related cliches is one word: empowerment.

At the top of the food chain is Butler, the max contract player facing more pressure than the rest of the roster combined, who blended in instead of sabotaging the Heat’s system (which is something his past coaches like Brett Brown and Fred Hoiberg probably envy). Few stars in their prime would be willing to join a team largely composed of young, unaccomplished unknowns and then cede the usual expectations placed on a primary option to dominate the offense. Butler does so because the other players are encouraged by the coaching staff to take more responsibility than they would get on other teams.

20-year-old Tyler Herro’s leash was extended instead of cut short: He has a permanent green light to take off-the-dribble threes and attack out of the pick-and-roll. Rookie Kendrick Nunn led Miami in field goal attempts per game this season. On another team, emerging 3-point savant Duncan Robinson would likely find himself stuck in the corner instead of sprinting around screens and constantly using dribble hand-offs to break the opponent’s psyche. Bam Adebayo’s skill-set would be tapered into a more traditional role, instead of one that lets him confront and push the limitations of his own creativity. There are teams that would’ve turned him into DeAndre Jordan, a strict rim-running big who sets screens and catches lobs. Instead, he sets the table — often in tandem with Robinson — and is averaging more assists than every center except Nikola Jokic.

All these players deserve credit for ascending as quickly as they have, as does Spoelstra (the NBA’s most accommodating and experimental coach) for identifying where and how they can be most effective, outside opinions be damned. But none of it would’ve worked as sublimely as it has if Butler didn’t allow it to. That might sound obvious, but how many stars who desperately want a championship would be willing to sacrifice their own numbers and on-court responsibilities to unproven teammates like he did?

Related, here’s what Butler told Yahoo Sports last November: “I’m not going to say ‘carry a team’ because nobody can do it by themselves and I mean that. I’m not putting it all on myself, but I know what I’m capable of. I know what I bring to any and all situations, and the group of guys that we have is the group of guys that I want to play with...Look at the motherfucker K-Nunn. Look at him. He’s got so much of me in him that it’s scary because his confidence continues to grow. The same thing with our rook Tyler Herro and Duncan. Come on, man. Just because you don’t know these guys like that, don’t make the mistake of looking past them. They’re going to make sure you do know them pretty, pretty soon.”

That’s why Butler was always the perfect star for the Heat. He was an overlooked prospect who had to play at a junior college before he was eventually drafted 30th overall by the Bulls, a team that was interested in his gritty defensive instincts, but had no thought to put the ball in his hands.. That experience is one LeBron, Durant, or Tatum can not relate to.

Butler’s 67.6 touches per game in the playoffs rank 24th, below Goran Dragic and Adebayo. Jayson Tatum is at 75.3, LeBron James and James Harden are at 84, and before the Mavericks were eliminated, Luka Doncic led all players at 103.5. During the regular season, Butler had possession of the ball for 5.4 minutes every night — the exact same as Dragic and 1.4 fewer minutes than Nets backup point guard Spencer Dinwiddie.

He’s a star, but a star who exerts himself in areas of the game normally occupied by players who earn a fraction of his salary. Butler sets screens. He cuts, boxes out, floods passing lanes, initiates and accepts contact better than any scorer not named James Harden. He’s as content setting a teammate up as he is finishing the possession himself.

These qualities can expose him to criticism, particularly when he only scores 17 points in a close-out game where the opposing team’s best player missed the entire second half with a badly sprained ankle. And that’s fair. Butler’s game isn’t as refined or efficient as Leonard. He doesn’t turn the court into a chessboard like Doncic or demand as much attention as Steph Curry.

But in Miami, he doesn’t need to be the conventional alpha. The team isn’t built to prop him up; it’s more that he exists to elevate everyone else. Butler's selfless versatility allows Spoelstra to tinker with an endless variety of schemes and lineups that maximize what the Heat can ultimately be. In the same stint, Butler can initiate Miami’s offense from the elbow, lock down the opponent’s top scorer, and be the roll man in a two-man game with Dragic. As he shapeshifts, so does the team.

A few summers ago, right before his first season with the Minnesota Timberwolves, NBA skills trainer Chris Johnson summed up what makes Butler so special by describing the specifically unspecific range of their workouts: “I'm able to develop him as a point guard, as a shooting guard, as a small forward, as a power forward, and as a center. He's a basketball player. He's a scorer. He's not a shooter. He's not just a primary driver. He can do pretty much anything that is asked of him from his coaches because he allowed me to prepare him for every single situation. The only person who can stop Jimmy is Jimmy. He don't have a flaw."

Butler isn’t a role player. This season he led Miami in minutes, points, assists, steals, and free-throw attempts per game, along with most advanced catch-all stats. He can create his own shot whenever he wants, and hit the tough contested ones that pave every road to the title. But he also isn’t what you think of as a star; the seeds of the role player Butler was groomed to be didn’t die. Right now, nine wins away from a championship, they’ve sprouted in a mutually beneficial situation that’s recalibrating how he’s perceived, even if the only thing that’s changed is everything around him.

Originally Appeared on GQ