Thompson: A mother's faith has long fueled Kevon Looney's self-belief

Publish date: 2024-06-28

The first-round picks of the 2015 NBA Draft were coming in. No. 5 … No. 8 … No. 13 … No. 19. And her son’s name still wasn’t called. The frustration within the Kevon Looney camp increased with each pick. They were told he would go somewhere between fifth and 15th. Yet, the draft was into the 20s and all was silent in their corner. His mother, Victoria, didn’t want to show her emotions in the spotlight of the green room, so she went to the bathroom. So her tears could fall in private, so she could pray fervently.

On her way out of the bathroom, she saw the NBA commissioner and confronted him.

“He said, ‘Victoria, he’s here for a reason. He’s going to be OK,’” she said, recalling the words of Adam Silver. “He hugged me. He said go back to your seat. Everything will be fine.”

By the time she returned to her son, her composure was regained. Looney was still “in his tight suit looking all handsome” but had a dejected expression on his face. So she leaned over and did what she always does. She gave him a word.

It only takes one person to believe in you. We ain’t here for the whole world. We’re here for the select people that believe in you. If one person believes in you, that’s all it takes. You’re going to be just fine.

The Warriors drafted him No. 30 overall, the last pick in the first round. So began his improbable journey. Looney doesn’t say much, with his words or his expressions. He’s like his father, Kevin. That only makes his high level of self-assurance a bit surprising.

A year ago, when the calendar flipped to 2018, Looney was averaging 9.4 minutes per game, lost in a logjam of centers on the Warriors roster. Now, as 2019 has dawned, Looney is the most indispensable big man on the Warriors, a stalwart who wound up the last center standing.

Even though the odds have been stacked against him the whole way, after slipping in the draft and losing most of his first two seasons to hip surgeries, Looney sees his current post as an entitlement. In his mind, it was only a matter of time and opportunity.

It’s hard to spot in his wide eyes. It is not revealed in his half-cocked smile. But in Looney’s mind is a voice. It tells him this is just the beginning of the greatness he will behold. It tells him he is good enough, he deserves the success he is having and will have. It got him through adversity that would break most players. That voice makes him comfortable banking on himself, always.

And his mother put it there.

“My mom call me to preach to me every day,” said Looney, 22, who is in his fourth pro season. “If I don’t want to hear it or am tired of hearing it, she’s still going to tell me. You know as a kid, you don’t want your mom to be right. So sometimes, I’d be like, ‘She was dead on, but I ain’t never going to tell her.’ If I tell her she’s right this time, she going to be, like, you should listen every time.”

Looney’s ride has required every ounce of injected confidence, every boost from one of his mother’s pep talks. He is a pending free agent who stands to land a contract that establishes him as a steady NBA pro with a lengthy career ahead of him. For the longest time, such a career path felt improbable. But as Looney explains it, inevitable is more accurate.

When his journey started, it didn’t seem as if the road would have this many curves. He knew at 16 he was going pro after playing against bona fide NBA prospects like Jabari Parker and Andrew Wiggins and holding his own. Looney was a 4.0 student whose first looks came from Harvard and Yale, but the big-time schools eventually got in on the recruiting: Duke, Florida, Tennessee, Michigan State, UCLA. The red carpet was rolled out for Looney. Fancy hotels. Nice restaurants. Hyped welcomes. On his visit to Knoxville, Volunteers coach Cuonzo Martin surprised Looney’s father, a Tennessee native, with a reunion of his old high school teammates.

First, Victoria wanted Looney at Yale or Harvard. But her youngest son wasn’t nearly as moved by the academic prestige. Eventually, her heart was set on Duke. But Looney threw a curveball and chose UCLA.

The funny part: UCLA was his worst visit. He went in the middle of the week, during midterms. He spent most of the trip sitting in the room with his hosts as they were studying. Still, the allure of California was strong for the Milwaukee kid.

But then everything started to spiral in Los Angeles.

The summer before his freshman season at Westwood, Looney was playing during open gym on campus. Bruins guard Isaac Hamilton took a floater in the lane. Looney got in position to grab the rebound and Hamilton fell into his right leg. The jolt injured his hip.

He had a pinching feeling for the first week or two. He couldn’t run; even walking was tough. He took a few weeks off and, with rehab, he strengthened his legs and his core and started feeling better. He never missed any practice or a game. But he said he was suffering after playing on his hip.

Looney survived with regular rehab and high pain tolerance. But the frustrating part was that his game suffered because of it. He played guard most of his years in basketball. He was known for being able to handle, create his shot and shoot. But his ailing hip ruined his lateral movement and slowed him down significantly. He stayed away from change-of-direction moves and turned into a lumbering big man.

The Bruins hosted Gonzaga in mid-December. It was a big game between West Coast powers. His family and friends came down to Los Angeles. He played 36 minutes, totaling 14 points, eight rebounds, four assists and two steals. And afterward, he could barely walk. That was probably the low point.

He said his days were consumed by rehab as UCLA’s medical staff worked diligently with him. An hour before practice. Two hours in practice. Lots of strength work and soft-tissue work. If he got hit in his hip, he would have to ice it, get the swelling and pain down and get back into his rehab routine. He wasn’t doing much skill work, just managing his hip.

“My hip was fucked up,” Looney said. “The thing was we didn’t really know what was wrong … (My parents weren’t) sure if I was really hurt and they were like, ‘Is it in all in your mind?’ I was like, ‘No. It hurt for real. It hurt bad.’ After I told him it was serious, my dad knew that I was hurt and it was serious. By that time, it was too late. The season was almost over.”

The Bruins made it to the Sweet 16, losing to Gonzaga again. Looney entered the NBA Draft after his freshman year. The first round was calling even in a year he didn’t feel like he improved because of his hip. He couldn’t pass that up.

But he got red-flagged during the draft process.

“We had the idea and beliefs that he would heal,” Warriors general manager Bob Myers said this week. “For Kevon, I think, had he been fully healthy, I think he goes higher. I saw him a couple games. He had a 20-rebound game, which is pretty impressive for any freshman. He showed the ability to rebound and that usually translates college to pro. He does have a knack for that.

“That’s probably the best thing he does, his nose for the ball. He showed he could stretch. He showed he could put the ball on the floor. Just the simple things he did, making the extra pass, putting the ball on the floor. When you’re drafted in the first round, most teams want that player to be able to play. We didn’t need him to be able to play right away. We figured it would take about a year.”

Even still, Looney tried to tough it out when he arrived to play for the Warriors summer league team. Playing with rehab worked his freshman season at UCLA. He and his dad decided to try it with NBA rehab. But it was clear soon he needed surgery.

He had a torn labrum in his right hip. The labrum is the ring of cartilage that surrounds the hip socket, cushioning the joint and acting like a gasket to help securely hold the ball at the top of the thigh bone in the hip socket. Looney also had a bone impingement that required shaving down the bone.

Hip surgery didn’t scare Looney. The August 2015 procedure gave him relief. He knew once he could play pain-free again, people would get to see his true game.

But the next hip injury did scare him. He had come back from surgery and was playing with the Santa Cruz Warriors in the early part of the 2015-16 season, trying to work back into shape. He rejoined the team and was playing 3-on-3 at the downtown Oakland facility. Jason Thompson crashed into his surgically repaired hip.

He felt the same pain as he did before. It turns out his right hip was fine. But they looked at his left hip, too, because it had been giving him problems. Doctors told him he would eventually need surgery on that hip. Looney has structural abnormalities that exposed his hips to issues. He had surgery in April 2016 to repair a labrum tear in his left hip. Figured he might as well get it out of the way.

His parents, who moved to the Bay Area when Looney joined the Warriors, spent the whole 15 days with him in Vail, Colorado, where his second surgery was done. He wondered why he had to go through this. He wondered if he could ever maximize the potential he had. His mother did what she does. She anointed her son with oil. She prayed for him. She talked to him.

I’ve been there. I know about haters. I know about being sabotaged. Sometimes no matter how good you do, that don’t mean things will go right. The devil is a lie. You came too far and you worked too hard. This is your dream and you’re going to achieve it. You’re going to be OK.

Kevon Looney (far right) with his parents and his girlfriend. (Photo courtesy of Victoria Looney)

To understand Looney and his quiet confidence requires knowing his mother. He’s got his dad’s chill vibe and it covers a fire he got from his mother.

Her story begins in Milwaukee, one of 15 children. In the third grade, she sang “Lift Every Voice and Sing” at her elementary school and became a local prodigy.

With that booming voice, Victoria’s mother made her the main singer at True Vine Missionary Baptist Church. She was a star who could turn a service out. She toured other area churches and would tear the house down with her singing. She played basketball and ran track, but that all took a backseat to her singing.

When she was 21, she got a job at a retail clothing store, Next to Nothing, a local shop that sold name-brand gear at discounted prices. It was owned by Kevin Looney.

“When I walked in, I took his breath away,” Victoria said. “I didn’t even have to fill out an application. He hired me, fired me and married me.”

She was 22 when she left her childhood church for a megachurch in Milwaukee: Christ the King Missionary Baptist Church. She was compared to greats like Mahalia Jackson, Aretha Franklin and Whitney Houston. She graced stages with gospel music titans like Vickie Winans, Yolanda Adams and Kirk Franklin. She’s sung in “every Black church in Milwaukee” and in Las Vegas. She was 27 years old when she sang with legend Shirley Caesar. She’ll never forget it because Caesar thought she was showing too much neck and chest and buttoned up Victoria’s shirt for her right on stage.

Despite her talent, Victoria’s career never took off. She was supposed to be a star, even put out music. But in those days, nobody was coming to Milwaukee in search of talent. Victoria didn’t have a manager and didn’t relocate to Los Angeles or Chicago to chase her dream. Instead, she and her husband ran their business and raised their children.

She knows exactly what it’s like to be on the brink of your dreams. She knows how talent draws envy as much as it does opportunity. She didn’t become a renowned gospel artist. But she found solace in her family. She did get the good husband she dreamed for. They had a successful business and a good life. But she wouldn’t let her son not chase his dreams.

Especially since he was her miracle baby. Kevin Jr. was their first child. But with her daughter, Summer, the pregnancy was rough. Victoria’s blood pressure was so high, she was close to having a stroke.

So when she wound up pregnant a third time at age 29, doctors told her she shouldn’t have the baby. She thought about it for a week. She prayed.

“God told me I would be all right,” she said. “And the doctor told me, ‘I pray that your God is right.’ Kevon was the baby the doctor told me not to have.”

She has always believed her son was destined for something great. It has always been vital that he knows that, too. She knows her son is quiet, like her husband, and she believes that invites people to take advantage of him, makes him an easy target for criticism. She can’t have that eating at his self-worth, eroding his belief in his gifts. So she stays in his ear.

When he has a good game, she’s showering him with praise and adulation. When he plays poorly, she’s letting him know about it and nudging him to step it up, to seize every moment. When he’s down, she has an uplifting sermon ready for him. When he is being mistreated, she is hyping him up to speak up, to fight back, letting him know she’s ready to fight with him.

His father is his trusted coach. A former player himself, at Schreiner College (now Schreiner University) in Texas in the ’80s, Kevin constantly reminds Looney of the little things on the court. At halftime, Kevon will check his phone and see his dad pointing out all the box-outs he missed or imploring him to keep moving and playing with more energy.

Victoria, though, is the mouthpiece that feeds his spirit. She is his mother and his preacher. His lawyer and his conscience. His Bundini Brown and his Simon Cowell. His confidence, his ego, his self-esteem is a skyscraper built by years of her verbal architecture.

“I call him my Bionic Man,” she said.

Looney said the worst part about the hip surgeries wasn’t being on crutches for two months each time. No, the worst part was the brace he had to wear on his hip. It made everything a chore. Walking. Getting in and out of cars. Using the toilet.

He recovered in time to start the 2016-17 season. He got spot minutes for most of the campaign. Then another scary hip incident. He started feeling tingling. It traveled from his hip down to his foot. It didn’t hurt, but that feeling wasn’t normal. After two surgeries, he was still having issues. He played 53 games his second season, none after April 4 as he was shut down for the season.

“The times when I did get on the court, I felt like I could make all the plays, I was just like a half-second slow,” Looney said of that season. “I see everything developing. I know what I’m supposed to do. It was just getting myself to do it, I didn’t feel like I was lost and so couldn’t do it. I just had to get into shape and especially getting into shape and get my confidence back.”

Rest and new rehab techniques cured the tingling. It just went away. And finally, Andre Iguodala’s pestering about his diet hit home.

Looney was known for walking away from the Warriors’ loaded, high-end spreads with a burger or some chicken strips. Iguodala would always implore him to eat some vegetables, add some color to his plate. But Looney stayed in his comfort zone. During his time on the mend, he watched a lot of television and ate a lot of convenient food. When he had his hip brace on, having Postmates deliver Taco Bell was his go-to.

But once he got on the court, he felt slow and noticed his conditioning wasn’t good. It was a big reason most wrote him off. After two years, he could barely get off the bench. He was never in shape. He looked overwhelmed by the speed of the game. Plus he was a non-threat on offense. The first-round experiment looked to be a complete failure.

For Looney, though, it was just starting. He got past his hip issues and actually got to work out over the summer, work on his game instead of rehabbing his injuries. He also started heeding what Iguodala had been telling him about diet. Looney got in shape, got some of his quickness back. He came into his third summer league — in 2017 — feeling good. He showed up at training camp and finally started looking like a first-round pick. Coach Steve Kerr raved about Looney’s play all camp.

But he didn’t play the first four games of the 2017-18 season. Kerr finally put him in against Washington and he came up big with nine points and five rebounds in nearly 12 minutes. That was his only performance before Oct. 31, the date the Warriors had to decide whether to pick up the fourth-year option (for 2018-19) on his rookie contract.

On Oct. 30, the Warriors were in LA to play the Clippers. Myers told Looney he would be inactive that night and also that the Warriors were not going to pick up his option. Welcome to rock bottom.

“So now I’m not getting into the game,” Looney said. “So,it’s like all right, they’re not picking up my option and I’m not playing. How am I going to stay in the NBA? If I can’t get an opportunity to play, like how does it work?

“That was the low point. I was hot, but I was trying to play it off.”

But Looney didn’t wallow. His anger heightened his confidence. He was determined to prove the Warriors wrong. The shell was off. He was healthy and in shape. He just knew his game would deliver.

And on the biggest stage, it did. By March, he was averaging more than 20 minutes a game and was the team’s most valuable big man. His defense was so valuable in the postseason, Kerr inserted him into the starting lineup midway through the second round series against New Orleans.

It was clear the Warriors erred in not picking up his option, a gamble that made sense at the time after two injury-plagued seasons from Looney. The Warriors, like everyone else, lost confidence in him. But he never lost it in himself.

“He was a guy that was highly touted out of high school,” Myers said, “So I don’t think he was afraid of big moments. He’s played in some big-time games. You can’t mimic the Western Conference finals. You don’t know how players will respond under that kind of pressure. But he certainly came with some confidence.

“As you move through the playoffs, intelligence really matters. Scheming, following the defensive plans. You have to be so disciplined. To throw him into that fire and have him do well was great. Plus he is so well liked and well regarded by his teammates. He’s a complete team guy.”

Even when the free-agent market last summer didn’t yield the returns he expected, Looney returned to the defending champions on a one-year deal certain he could prove himself with another solid season. With Damian Jones expected to be the starting center and Jordan Bell coming off an impressive rookie, Looney still came back to the Warriors. He only got the minimum — he could have signed with a losing team for guaranteed minutes so he could show his stuff. But he came back to the Warriors to finish the business he began.

Once again, he is proving vital to the Warriors frontcourt. He is averaging career highs in points per game (6.5), field-goal percentage (63.3), rebounds (5.9) and minutes (20.6). With Jones out for the season, Looney is now the starting center for the back-to-back champions and so important to what they do there is concern about him being overworked.

He doesn’t make mistakes. His basketball IQ makes him ideal for the Warriors’ switching, helping defense. He has also proven capable of switching onto guards on the perimeter and staying in front, a byproduct of healthy hips and sound fundamentals.

Another productive postseason, any signs of an outside shot (especially a 3-pointer — he made his first one of the season last week in Portland) and Looney could finally get the contract he knows he’s worth. He’s sure of it, because his mother plants that message in his ear repeatedly.

You’re gifted like your mom. You’re a quiet gem. You’re a hidden diamond. They don’t see you yet because you’re like a chameleon, because you’re blended in. They going to see you one day. You won’t be a hidden diamond. You’re a diamond that’s going to shine. You can’t hide greatness. You can kind of put dirt on it. But when you clean the dirt off of it, you still gone shine. I know.

(Top photo: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)

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Thompson: A mother's faith has long fueled Kevon Looney's self-belief