Kevin Love's long limbs splay out as he takes a seat on a bench at the Cleveland Clinic Courts in Independence. It's two days after 16,723 fans packed Quicken Loans Arena for a scrimmage — a first look at the team most experts pick as the favorite in the NBA's Eastern Conference.
With practice ending, the reassuring squeaks and thumps that filled the double-wide gym all morning fade. Players head for the locker room. A scrum of press has first-year coach David Blatt pinned against a Cavaliers-branded wall. Occasional waves of murmured laughter ripple out into the air-conditioned emptiness as he cracks jokes.
Love wipes his face with a towel. His beard is closely trimmed. Not the baby-faced chinstrap of his youth, or the Grizzly Adams roughage of his time with the Minnesota Timberwolves, but somewhere in between or beyond. Now 26, he is firmly anchored in the liveliest roster in professional basketball.
"Everyone knows about the 50-year drought," Love says. "We want to bring a championship home to the city of Cleveland, state of Ohio and all Cavaliers fans."
That's exactly what every Cavs fan, every sports-obsessed Clevelander has been contemplating since July 11, when LeBron James' letter declared he was coming home.
A few hours after the letter hit, Love was in Los Angeles, on his way to yet another workout, when James called. The two had gotten to know each other while playing for Team USA in the 2012 Olympics. Their lockers were near each other. They had traded numbers, texted occasionally and bumped into each other at Michael Jordan's birthday party during the All-Star weekend.
If they could make it happen, James said, he wanted Love to come to Cleveland with him. A lot of things would have to go their way and it would be a lot of work, but their personalities would fit together out on the floor. What did Love think?
"I'm in," he told James.
The call lasted just a few minutes. "That was kind of it," Love says.
Except it wasn't. More than a month of rumors, trade talks and posturing followed. Would the Cavs part with University of Kansas guard Andrew Wiggins, the first-overall pick in the 2014 NBA draft? Might the Golden State Warriors, once considered the frontrunner to acquire Love, swoop in at the last minute and steal him away by offering shooting guard Klay Thompson? Could all of this really happen in a sports-scorned town where the only magic that ever happens is voodoo?
"I'm the type of guy that it ain't over till it's over," says Love, sounding as if he's a native.
It took until he passed his physical, until both teams OK'd the trade, until he came out for the press conference. "I was holding up my jersey," he says. "And it was official."
Love's arrival was the final act in the Cavs' spectacular offseason. The Cavs had won the NBA draft lottery for the second year in a row and selected Wiggins. They had hired Blatt, hailed as a levelheaded winner in the European leagues, as their new coach. And the team reached a deal on a five-year, $90 million contract extension with Kyrie Irving, All-Star guard and face of the franchise since James' departure.
Now, James and Irving will play together, with Love, the former Timberwolves star, as their anchor.
"I'm kind of the middle child in all this," Love says. "I'm the glue guy."
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"So what do you want to know?" asks Kevin Love's father, Stan Love, from his Oregon home.
Stan, an NBA player in the '70s for the Baltimore Bullets and Los Angeles Lakers, played alongside Hall of Famers Wes Unseld, Connie Hawkins, Gail Goodrich and Jerry West. His brother, Mike Love, is one of the founding members of the Beach Boys.
His son started playing ball in his stroller, Stan says. "He would actually try and throw it up to the basket, a small kids' basket."
Love was just a year old in 1989 when his family settled in Lake Oswego, Oregon, about a 20-minute drive from Portland. He was the middle child, between an older brother and a little sister.
Stan groomed him early, following the advice of his former high school basketball coach Jim Harrick, who guided UCLA to a national championship in 1995.
"He told me to always have a hoop and always put a ball in your kid's hand," Stan recalls.
At age 5, next-door neighbor Ernie Spada Jr. asked Love what he wanted to do when he grew up. "I'm going to play in the NBA, just like my dad did," he replied.
Love excelled at basketball and baseball. He was a pitcher with pretty good off-speed stuff. He wanted to be a quarterback, but his parents wouldn't let him play football.
Basketball was always his favorite. "For me, it was consuming," Love says.
By third grade, when most kids are more interested in the postgame snack, Love was capable of scoring 50 points in leagues at the Boys and Girls Club.
Spada coached and sponsored some of Love's first teams. Love and Spada's son, Ernie III, have been friends since preschool.
Even back then, Spada recalls, Love could do things other kids could not. "It was like there was Kevin and the rest of the world," Spada says.
Love credits his father for his early success.
"It was special to have a dad who played in the NBA," Love says. "He taught me everything I knew early on. He was the biggest influence in my career, especially from the start."
By Love's freshman year, he was starting for the Lake Oswego High School Lakers. At his first practice, television cameras showed up.
From the outset, he was the Lakers' marquee player. A burly, 6-foot-8 center, Love was "a big, country-type player," recalls his coach, Mark Shoff.
"The thing that amazed me the most about him was his court sense," Shoff says, "his ability to have his brain do all the geometry of where the shot was going to be taken and where he needed to be."
With Love at the helm, the team swept to the state finals three years in a row, bringing home the title in 2006. He broke Oregon's state record for scoring, which had stood for 50 years.
In school, he was popular, personable. In the gym, he was playful, fun to be around. He didn't take himself too seriously, but put it all on the line when the game was in jeopardy.
Last year, Shoff watched a video of one of Love's high school games. "They fouled him on every single play," he recalls. "But it didn't matter, because he still made the basket. He was that much bigger and better than
everyone."
For all his young life, Love was the best on every team he played on. So many colleges wanted to recruit Love that unopened mail piled up in 33-gallon tubs.
Although he considered North Carolina and Oregon, there was never really any doubt about where he'd attend college. "I grew up loving UCLA," he says. "They won all those championships under coach [John] Wooden."
There he became the engine for the Bruins. Even on an excellent roster — including future NBA players Russell Westbrook and Luc Mbah a Moute — Love still shined.
He was exceptional, the standard bearer for the Love name. The middle child was at the center of it all.
During Love's freshman season in 2007-08, the Bruins lost just three regular season games, finishing 28-3. Love averaged 17.5 points and 10.7 rebounds per game and was named the Pac-10 Freshman and Player of the Year. In the NCAA tournament, the Bruins swashbuckled their way to the Final Four, where they met their match in the Memphis Tigers at the Alamodome in San Antonio.
The day before the game, Love finished practice with one of his usual tricks — sinking a full court shot. But on the court against the Tigers, the 6-foot-10, 260-pound freshman center was uncharacteristically sluggish. Love looked out of his element, a shooting, rebounding big man pinned to his position. He chalked up only 12 points with nine rebounds. Typically so sure, so fundamental, Love could not muscle his team to victory. The disappointing defeat forced Love to make a difficult choice.
"It was tough not knowing what my future was going to hold, as far as leaving for the draft or staying in school," says Love. "It was a kind of a cliffhanger for me."
He chose the NBA. The Memphis Grizzlies took him fifth overall in the 2008 draft and traded him in a blockbuster deal to the Minnesota Timberwolves for that year's third-overall pick, O.J. Mayo.
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In Minnesota, Love became the tent pole of the franchise, its most constant star.
Love became a man, a lean, fast power forward. In his first NBA season, he averaged 11.1 points per game. By 2010-11, he'd recorded 53 straight games with double-digit points and rebounds, the longest streak in more than 30 years. Last season, he averaged 26.1 points. He packed his trophy case with accolades — All-Star games, Olympic gold.
He took his role seriously, on and off the court. As a rookie in Minnesota, he helped kick off the inaugural Rookie Relief for St. Jude, a fundraising campaign in which select veterans such as LeBron James and the league's top draft picks, including Derrick Rose and Brook Lopez, auctioned off jerseys on eBay to benefit the children's research hospital in Memphis. As the program's ambassador, Love even agreed to match funds raised through the auction. The jersey program netted more than $25,000. Last year, the NBA partnered with St. Jude Children's Research Hospital for a week in March.
"The basketball thing is terrific," Stan says. "But when he's as good a person as he is a basketball player, that's what parents like."
As Love's career escalated, the Timberwolves fizzled. From 2008 to 2014, the Timberwolves posted a 153-323 record without a single winning year.
"I think any time you're losing, you're frustrated. I know I wasn't the only one," says Love. "Some things were in my control, some things weren't."
The Timberwolves were stuck in a death spiral of rebuilding. From year to year, new names revolved around Love on the roster.
"You walk into the locker room every year, and it's completely turned over," Love told Yahoo Sports Adrian Wojnarowski in 2012. "There's new guys everywhere. And then it happens again and again. You really start to wonder: Is there really a plan here?"
In 2012, when Love missed a month of play due to a hand injured during a round of knuckle pushups, he told Wojnarowski that there were spiteful whispers from those who were supposed to be supporting him. "Even people in my own organization were asking if it was a legitimate injury, people calling my honesty and integrity into question," Love said. "And that's what really hurt me."
When his contract was up in 2011, the Timberwolves shrugged off the opportunity to nail him down for the long haul. David Kahn, the team's former president of basketball operations refused to offer Love a maxed-out five-year, $80 million contract. Instead, he thrust a $62 million, four-year contract sheet directly into Love's hands in the team's training room. Kahn's mismanagement would lead to his firing in 2013.
Love was stuck in an organization that did not appreciate him, one constantly out of control. Like a modern day John the Baptist wandering the cold Minnesota desert, he turned inward. He grew a beard. He added muscle, got leaner. He became not just good but fearsome.
There were bright spots in his purgatory. His rebounding ability and outlet passes made for some brilliant moments.
"Corey Brewer last year was great for us, Kevin Martin, those guys that would run the lanes and get easy buckets," says Love of his Timberwolves teammates. "That's a gratifying
feeling when you can set up guys for layups and fast break points."
In one April game, Love faced the Miami Heat at home, besting James in double overtime. Love even showed some inside defensive chops, typically not his forte. Late in the second overtime, James drove to the basket, looking for a layup. Love, his hands up, slapped it down.
Later, with the score tied at 121-121, Love passed over the heads of James and Chris Bosh to Brewer, who drew a foul and sealed the win for Minnesota at the line, 122-121.
The Timberwolves finished last season with a 40-42 record, the closest they had gotten to breaking even since Love arrived. But in six years, they did not have a single playoff appearance. Love could not be the scapegoat any longer.
"He hates losing," says Stan. "That's why the last six years have been absolute torture."
In Minnesota, Love told Yahoo Sports in 2012, he was not getting his due. "I don't know who labels people stars, but even [Timberwolves owner] Glen Taylor said, 'I don't think Kevin Love is a star, because he hasn't led us to the playoffs.' I mean, it's not like I had much support out there. That's a tough pill to swallow."
Love was a star, and the Timberwolves didn't want him. He needed help, and they refused to give it. "Yeah, it was a frustrating time," Love says now. "But I choose to look at the times when it was a lot of fun for us."
The week after Love was traded for Andrew Wiggins, last year's No. 1 overall pick Anthony Bennett and the Miami Heat's top draft pick in 2015, the Timberwolves set an organizational record for most season ticket sales in a week.
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At the Cavs media day in Independence, the two Davids, Cavs coach David Blatt and general manager David Griffin, take the stage first. Next comes the headliner — James.
His kids were ecstatic to finally come home after four years, he says. He's been well received. Since leaving, he's learned to be more patient.
"Each experience in life is the greatest teacher," he says. "I was able to learn from my mistakes, grow from them throughout the four years."
James has had to adjust before, but this season presents a new problem to solve. "It's a different challenge for me here, being alongside Kyrie and Kevin Love and the rest of the guys. But there's nothing in this league that I haven't seen. Nothing. You name it, I've seen it both on and off the floor. So I've got a lot of knowledge to give to them."
In the wine and gold once again, James finishes his piece and trots offstage to do a few one-on-one interviews. A tide of cameras, microphones and humanity trail him around the gym.
As Love waits his turn to take the stage, he stands for a bank of photos with the other two members of the Cavs' Big Three. James, Kyrie Irving and Love look relaxed and natural, moving between photo stations as bulbs flash.
Irving and James trade off taking the center spot in the triumvirate. For one shoot, an assistant brings a box for Irving, the shortest of the three, to stand on. As the flashbulbs click, Love does not take the center spot.
Now, finally wearing a wine and gold zero, Love will have some adjusting to do.
Love knew James and Irving before he came to Cleveland. He appeared in Irving's Pepsi Max commercials, schooling "youngbloods" on outdoor courts, playing a character, Uncle Wes, who is the spitting image of his mustachioed father, Stan.
In the series, Wes is the first player whom Irving's character, Uncle Drew, recruits to put their old team back together. Watching the spot now, after Love has joined Irving's real-life team, it's hard to overlook the similarities.
Near the end, after Wes has finally found his old game, he throws down a one-handed dunk. At the other end of the court, he celebrates with a shoulder-bump with Drew: "We home, baby," they both say. "We home."
Love's banter in the video series, a throwback to his days in the Lake Oswego High School gym, can only bode well for his relationship with Irving.
"He's only going to continue to get better because he's so young," Love says of Irving, who he calls "ahead of his time."
"With Kyrie, as LeBron said, it's his show," says Love. "The ball's going to be in his hands so much, he's going to have to be the floor general out there."
James, the most prominent of the trio, may have to take a step back from the role he is accustomed to — King James — to let Irving have his shot. But a strategic James, a coach-on-the-court James, a James that declares confidently, "I will be the leader of the team," as he did at media day, he may be ready to do so.
"LeBron, he automatically changes the culture out there and brings his style of play," says Love. "It just uplifts everybody and is contagious."
Back in Independence on the rainy October Friday, Love leans back against the wall after practice, at ease as he riffs on the future.
"I like to say, 'Think it, say it, do it,' " Love says, veering into Eastern philosophy with a hint of rain-drenched Oregonian pith.
"If you want to get something done, you have to think it first. You have to say it, speak it into existence. You have to hold yourself accountable. Then it's in the universe. You have to go make it happen."
Love calls himself "Mr. Reliable." He wants to be the guy the others turn to, the guy with all the fundamentals. That role may be the most important on the team.
"I want to be the guy everybody can look to at any point in the game and be able to get the job done," says Love. "I want to be that guy that can be a dual and triple threat out there and a threat from everywhere."
Carrying the Timberwolves on his shoulders fomented trouble. Now, Love is sharing the burden. On rebounds and passes, shooting and defense, he wants to be the spine of the Big Three, the backbone of his new team.
"They say, 'Show us your five closest friends and it'll show you yourself,' " he muses. "I've always taken that to heart, surrounded myself with people that want the same things out of life and have the energy that supports my goals."
For the first time, he is not the only face of the franchise. Nor is he rebelling against the burden of undue leadership, the pressure of creating something from nothing. On a team with the slogan, "All for One, One for All," he is neither All or One, and that's for the best.
