There’s a darker side to Jason Kidd’s undeniable basketball genius

He had just delivered what was — may still be — the forever money performance in the Nets’ NBA history. Jason Kidd had played 51 minutes, 38 seconds of a 120-109 double overtime win against the Pacers, do-or-die Game 5, 2002 first round at the Meadowlands. Reggie Miller had made another of his gut-punch shots to extend the game, a 35-footer that made Tyrese Haliburton’s Game 1 prayer against the Knicks seem like a routine layup. 

Didn’t matter. Kidd stole the night back from Reggie. Kidd: 31 points, seven assists, eight rebounds. Not epic numbers, but Kidd’s genius as a player could never be explained by integers in a column. You had to see it. You had to play with it. Now, one by one, as Kidd sat in front of his locker stall trying not to pass out, his teammates paid homage. 

“Even when you see it every day,” Kerry Kittles said, “you can’t believe what he does.” 

“He told us, point-blank: ‘We are not losing this game,’ ” said Richard Jefferson, then a rookie. “When your leader commands you like that, you take it seriously. It’s an order.”