Familiarity suits DeAndre Jordan and Clippers just fine

LOS ANGELES -- More than the budding bromance with Chandler Parsons or Mark Cuban's zeal and taste in sashimi, DeAndre Jordan's unofficial three-day tenure with the Dallas Mavericks this past summer arose, by all accounts, from a deep-seated desire to become something more.

Jordan had spent virtually his entire seven-year career with the Los Angeles Clippers in a backseat to best buddy Blake Griffin, and more than half of it to not-so-best-buddy Chris Paul. So even though coach Doc Rivers had championed his center for accolades and full-fledged membership in the Clippers' power circle since Day 1, the Mavs offered Jordan something he may never get in earnest in L.A.: the spotlight, both in how he's perceived by the public and how he's utilized on the court.

Indeed, in the first seven games of his new four-year max deal (with an opt-out clause after three), the optics and production are quite familiar. He's still swatting everything in sight (3.9 blocks per game), sometimes at the expense of the more sound defensive decision (49.2 percent shooting allowed at the rim, per NBA.com). He's still missing enough free throws (34.2 percent success rate this season, a career worst) to leave the Clippers susceptible to "hack-a" strategies. And he's still shooting at one of the league's highest rates (74.4 percent from the floor), even if it's still largely off activity and cuts and lobs and not as a Tysonian dive man in Rick Carlisle's spread pick-and-roll offense.

"It's still the same old D.J.," Griffin said when asked if he's noticed a difference since the offseason's emoji-filled mayhem. "Every year, we try to step up and assume a better leadership role. He still does the same things. He's still pretty much the same guy."

"I just feel a little older" the 27-year-old Jordan said.

Consistency is often lauded as the holy grail of NBA team-building. It's how the Spurs have sustained two decades of success and, to a lesser degree, how the Warriors have become an NBA Voltron. But the flip side is complacency. And with no conference finals appearances to show for three straight seasons of 55-plus wins, Rivers, who clearly went all out this past offseason to keep his core intact, has been upfront about the possible complications with rolling it back.

"You get less tolerant of each other," Rivers said Monday. "You know what a guy can't do, but by the third or fourth year, you get mad at him because he can't do it. Early on, you'd cover up for it, but by about the third year, you're mad when he can't do something."

An overhaul to one of last season's shallowest benches should keep things fresh (literally), but while wholesale change may be the easiest answer, it may not always be the best one. Sure, concerns over a lack of outside shooting and a not-quite-championship defense have yet to be assuaged, but the Clippers are already 5-2, with four-point losses apiece to perhaps the closest thing we've seen to the mid-90s Bulls and the Rockets in games that Paul sat out, and their starting lineup has the third-best plus-minus of any five-man unit in the league with over 50 minutes played.

Jordan may have dismissed any major differences in approach, but on a team two late meltdowns away from significant postseason success, that extra year of age has the potential to bring with it the subtle change that makes all the difference.

"I don't know if it's necessarily because of what happened this offseason, but I'd say he's been more mature, more focused. He's been a better leader," J.J. Redick said. "I'd say the same about Blake, I would say the same thing about Chris. Those guys are really locked in. It goes without saying -- they just want to win a championship, and we have to follow that lead."