‘Trae believes in Nate, and Nate believes in Trae’: The bond that transformed the Hawks
- Award-winning columnist and author
- Recipient of Basketball Hall of Fame Curt Gowdy Media Award
- Joined ESPNBoston.com in 2010
THE ATLANTA HAWKS burrowed together, forming an insulating semicircle around Nate McMillan, their 56-year-old coach who calmly disseminated instructions. The apprehensive Game 7 home crowd bellowed for their Philadelphia 76ers to put an end to the madness, to the notion that this inexperienced, upstart Atlanta team and its audacious young point guard with the perpetually tousled coif could possibly shred the plans of a presumptive title contender.
As McMillan addressed his team with 5:49 left on the game clock and the score knotted at 84, Trae Young stood, hands on hips, eyes fixated on his coach, a trip to the Eastern Conference finals just minutes away. His father, Rayford, watching from the stands, was riveted by the unwavering focus of his son.
“The way Trae stands at attention when Coach McMillan speaks, the way he looks him in the eye for the duration of those timeouts, it’s night and day compared to previous coaches,” Rayford says. “Trae believes in Nate — and Nate believes in Trae.”
As the Hawks broke from the huddle, McMillan corralled his point guard and offered up one final directive: “Bring us home.”
Young had already missed 17 shots in the game, one of the worst shooting performances of his nascent career in the biggest game of his life — yet his coach had entrusted crunch time to him. “Let me tell you,” Rayford says, “that goes a long way.”
What happened next seems obvious now: Young dropped in one of his signature teardrop floaters, a devastating weapon that keeps defenses hedging until the final second: Will he shoot, or will he loft it to Clint Capela for one of his patented alley-oops?
McMillan will tell you “bring it home” doesn’t necessarily translate into “go dominate the game on your own.” Quite the contrary. “We’ve talked about situations like that time and time again,” McMillan explains. “Trae needs to organize our team in a way that gives us the best shot to win.
“[In Game 7] against Philly, Kevin [Huerter] had it going, and Trae understood that down the stretch we needed to keep Kevin involved. He has really gotten better at trusting his teammates and understanding they can do some things too.”
That does not preclude McMillan from encouraging Young to draw from his seemingly bottomless sack of offensive artistry when it matters most.
“The thing about Trae is, he doesn’t show weakness,” McMillan says. “Sure, he struggled with his shot, but he’s convinced the next one will go in. So am I.”
Those who have coached with and played for McMillan rattle off his long-standing mantras. “Don’t f— with the game” is one; he believes when teams get up by 20, players start stat-hunting, and he will not tolerate that. Another is his faith in the three “C’s”: Stay calm, clear and connected. Do so down the stretch, McMillan surmises, and you will win.
There’s a third one he has adopted more recently: Adapt and grow. After nearly 700 career wins and a jarring dismissal from the Indiana Pacers last August, McMillan has taken that particular message to heart. He has gone to great lengths to examine the game he adores through the lens of a (barely) 6-foot dynamo who, in so many ways, embodies everything Nate McMillan is not.
So, McMillan exercises restraint when Young shimmies before he drops a monster 3 in Wednesday’s Game 1 Eastern Conference finals win over the heavily favored Milwaukee Bucks, an act that would’ve been unfathomable to McMillan in his playing days as a no-nonsense floor leader. Young finished with 48 points and 11 assists, yet McMillan was equally pleased with his defense — like when Young blocked off the baseline to prevent a Jrue Holiday drive, or when he leaned against Giannis Antetokounmpo in the post, even though he was giving up 10 inches and 64 pounds to the two-time MVP.
“Nate has gotten Trae Young to play defense,” notes longtime NBA assistant Billy Bayno, who was by McMillan’s side at stops in Portland and Indiana. “That tells you everything.”
As this unlikely pair of point guards embarks on this improbable basketball journey together, one an old-school coach and the other a new-school star, they made a pact: I will adapt to you — as long as you adapt to me.
TWO YEARS REMOVED from his playing days and still an inexperienced assistant, McMillan was just 15 games into the 2000-01 season when then-Seattle head coach Paul Westphal was fired.
McMillan was thrust into the head-coaching role and tasked with appeasing his friend and former teammate, Gary Payton. Like Young, Payton was a brash and forceful personality with tantalizing skills.
Brent Barry was in his sixth season then and recalls the charged environment that awaited McMillan when he scooted one seat over from the assistant’s chair.
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