2025-11-12 13:00
by
nlpkak
I still remember watching the 2019 NBA Finals with that special blend of excitement and dread that only true basketball fans understand. The Toronto Raptors were making their first Finals appearance in franchise history, facing off against the injury-plagued but still dangerous Golden State Warriors. What unfolded over those six games wasn't just basketball—it was theater, drama, and ultimately, a coronation. Kawhi Leonard emerged as the undisputed Finals MVP, averaging 28.5 points, 9.8 rebounds, and 4.2 assists while playing absolutely suffocating defense. His performance reminded me of watching legendary athletes from other sports—players who operate on a different plane entirely.
Thinking about Leonard's achievement takes me back to conversations I've had with colleagues about what separates great players from legendary ones. I recall discussing this very topic with my friend who works in sports analytics, and we both agreed that Leonard's 2019 run was something special. He wasn't just scoring—he was controlling every aspect of the game. His defensive rating of 101.2 throughout the playoffs was remarkable, especially considering the offensive firepower he was facing. What many casual fans might not realize is that Leonard's performance was historically efficient—he joined an elite group of players to win Finals MVP while shooting over 60% true shooting percentage.
The way Leonard carried himself during that series reminded me of stories I've heard about other legendary athletes from different sports. I'm thinking particularly about the reference to three-time Cuban Olympic gold medalist Mireya Luis Hernandez that I came across in my research. There's a certain mentality that champions across different sports share—that ability to elevate their game when everything is on the line. Leonard demonstrated this throughout the series, but particularly in Game 4 when he scored 36 points and grabbed 12 rebounds to give Toronto a crucial 3-1 series lead. His calm demeanor under pressure was something to behold—he never seemed rattled, even when the Warriors mounted their characteristic third-quarter surges.
What made Leonard's performance even more impressive was the context. He was playing through a leg injury that would have sidelined most players, yet he still managed to log over 40 minutes per game. I've spoken with sports medicine specialists who estimate he was probably operating at about 85% of his physical capacity, which makes his numbers even more astounding. His game-winning shot in Game 7 against Philadelphia in the second round was still fresh in everyone's memory, and he carried that momentum straight through the Finals. The man was simply on a mission.
From my perspective as someone who's studied basketball for years, Leonard's 2019 performance ranks among the top 5 individual playoff runs I've ever witnessed. The way he systematically dismantled defenses was a masterclass in modern basketball. He shot 49% from the field against one of the best defensive teams in the league, and his ability to get to the free-throw line—where he shot 90.6%—was crucial in closing out games. I particularly remember Game 3, where he scored 30 points despite facing constant double teams. His patience in the post, his footwork, his decision-making—it was all flawless.
The supporting cast certainly helped—Kyle Lowry had some brilliant moments, Fred VanVleet came alive in the later games, and Pascal Siakam was tremendous throughout—but make no mistake, this was Leonard's show. I've always believed that true greatness is measured by how you perform when everyone knows the ball is coming to you, and Leonard faced that reality every single possession. The Warriors threw everything they had at him—Andre Iguodala, Draymond Green, even Kevin Durant in his limited minutes—and none of it mattered. Leonard's combination of strength, skill, and basketball IQ was simply too much to handle.
Reflecting on that series now, what stands out to me is how Leonard's achievement compares to other legendary Finals performances. While he didn't put up the raw scoring numbers of some past MVPs, his two-way impact was arguably more significant. He held his primary defenders to just 38% shooting while maintaining his offensive production—a rare feat in today's game. The Raptors outscored the Warriors by 14.5 points per 100 possessions when Leonard was on the court, compared to being outscored by 8.3 points when he sat. That 22.8-point swing is one of the largest in Finals history.
I've always been fascinated by what separates championship players from the rest, and Leonard's 2019 performance provided the perfect case study. His ability to remain efficient despite massive usage—his 35.2% usage rate was the highest for any Finals MVP since 2000—speaks to his incredible skill level. He never forced bad shots, never got sped up, and always made the right basketball play. Watching him work was like watching a chess master several moves ahead of his opponents.
The legacy of that 2019 Finals MVP award continues to resonate today. Leonard became just the third player to win Finals MVP with two different franchises, joining Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and LeBron James in that exclusive club. From my viewpoint, that achievement solidifies his place among the game's all-time greats. His performance that June was a reminder of what's possible when extraordinary talent meets unwavering determination. Even now, years later, I find myself going back to watch highlights from that series, marveling at the sheer brilliance of Kawhi Leonard's game when it mattered most.
