“Go win the ball game, AR! Go win the ball game!” LeBron James is shouting in Austin Reaves’ ear as he speaks to a reporter for a walk-off interview. It is just moments after the Lakers’ scintillating overtime win against the Clippers on their shared home turf in Los Angeles, marking their first win against their Crypto.com Arena co-tenants in a dozen tries. Reaves, of course, didn’t single-handedly secure the victory. It was a true team effort, led by James himself setting the record for most points ever (35) by a player in their 21st season.
But James is emphasizing the conclusion to which everyone in the organization (and many more in the NBA at large) have already arrived: Reaves is – as he bellowed after sinking a half-court buzzer-beater against the Golden State Warriors during last year’s playoffs – him.
To say that Reaves had a rough start to this season is, admittedly, an understatement. Yes, the 6ft 5in, 197lb shooting guard was still impactful in some ways in the first few Lakers outings, but his signature verve, the propulsive drives to the basket resulting in timely buckets, the unlikely heaves from distance swishing through the basket, were missing. Perhaps, it was speculated, this was a result of the acclimating to his newfound place in the spotlight, or a side effect of having essentially no offseason (due to his feature role for Team USA at the Fiba World Cup over the summer), or maybe even just an adjustment period to the new-look Laker lineup.
Whatever the cause, the dip in quality had the internet proletariat and the roundtable pros alike chattering, and at a deafening volume. One of the unfortunate side effects of commanding people’s attention, it turns out, is that they’re constantly looking for proof that you don’t deserve it. Reaves is a floppy-haired, undrafted white kid from a small town in rural Arkansas; he would look equally at home selling orange puffer jackets at Bass Pro Shops as he does in an NBA uniform. What were the odds that he was the real deal, that his unlikely ascent to becoming the Lakers’ third best player in their run as the No 10 seed to the conference finals last year wasn’t a fluke?
To Reaves’ credit, he doesn’t seem to have let the noise about his slow start rattle him. In the midst of the shooting slump, he told a reporter post-game: “You want to make shots. But no athlete ever went through their whole career and played perfect. So you have these things happen, and you just have to figure out a way to get through it.”
This attitude is true to form for the even-keeled Reaves, who, while hyper-competitive on the court, doesn’t really ever seem to get too high or too low. He sheepishly laughed off persistent, bizarre rumors this summer that, pre-Travis Kelce, he was Taylor Swift’s paramour (a rumor, it turns out, that was started as a joke by a Clippers staffer). His in-game ferocity is belied by his aw-shucks demeanor outside the lines: consistently reticent to accept much praise, steadfast in wearing a tech fleece in his tunnel ensembles in lieu of high fashion, reluctant to even acknowledge, really, the growing profile he’s amassed over the past year.
In the Lakers’ locker room before their home opener against the Phoenix Suns, I held up my phone to show Reaves what the Lakers had posted on their Instagram in advance of the game: a photo from media day featuring the club’s presumptive ‘Big Three’: LeBron James, Anthony Davis and Reaves. I asked him what a teenage Austin, growing up on the outskirts of Newark, Arkansas (population: 1,100), would think if he saw this image, and was told that someday, this would be his life. “I would’ve looked at you like you had six faces,” he deadpanned.
His distinctly unpretentious nature, has, no doubt, contributed to people’s hesitancy to acknowledge his star ascent. But the brightest basketball minds around him have always seen something special in him. I asked Frank Vogel, the now-head coach of the Phoenix Suns, who coached Reaves on the Lakers in his rookie season, if he saw signs early on that Austin had an it-factor. “I did,” Vogel said. “We were very high on him.” He recalled Jesse Buss, head of the Lakers’ scouting department, showing him film of Reaves’ college days at Wichita State and the University of Oklahoma: “It was remarkable how well he played. I remember thinking he was a smaller, a poor man’s Luka [Dončić], with the way he played in pick and roll – it was that impressive to me.”
Reaves brushes off praise thrown his way, insisting that his parents and brother raised him to “play the game the right way”, and that he’s focused on continuing to elevate his game. “I want to compete and grow and get better every year, just see how good I can be. That’s really my main thing. You can never be perfect in this, and that’s what kind of just keeps you going.” He’s tried, he says, to keep his focus on that task, instead of on his mounting success and, quite frankly, surreal life path thus far. “I stay very present,” he said. “One of these days I’ll sit down and reflect more [on my career] and probably appreciate it– not that I don’t appreciate it now, but appreciate it a lot more, and in a different aspect.”
Partially due to the Lakers’ dire bench situation in Reaves’ rookie year, he saw playing time pretty quickly in Los Angeles, although it took a little while for him to become a regular rotation player, and even longer still to get elevated to the starting role he won deep into last season. As Reaves’ profile began to climb, he became a fan favorite, especially as his stellar play in the second half of the year helped buoy the Lakers to a playoff bid. By the end of the season the ardor reached such a fever pitch that he was regularly garnering “M-V-P!” chants during his trips to the free throw line.
Of course, there’s the other side of the coin: the more people you have rooting for you, the more people you have doing the opposite. But the sometimes off-puttingly well-adjusted Reaves doesn’t mind. I asked him if he ever feels misunderstood, ever gets rattled by all the strangers’ opinions: “I care about what I care about, and that’s obviously basketball, my family,” he said. “But all the outside noise is like … if you support me, great. If you don’t, then it doesn’t really matter to me. It comes along with it and I think that’s the beautiful thing about sports, is that you’re fans of who you’re fans of.” He pauses. “And that’s pretty much it. I’m a fairly simple person.”
Reaves was recently moved to a sixth-man role in the Lakers’ rotation, a shift head coach Darvin Ham said was “not a demotion, just a realignment”, comparing it to Manu Ginóbili’s super-sub function in the San Antonio Spurs’ second unit. Reaves, to his credit, seems to have adjusted well. He has maintained his minutes load and remained impactful for the club; his points, rebounds and assists per game averages are all up from last season. “Basketball is basketball for me,” he told a reporter after the Lakers’ besting of the Portland Trail Blazers on Sunday. “Start, come off the bench, go play pickup back home. I try to play the same way regardless of the situation.”
I asked the Orlando Magic’s Paolo Banchero, who played alongside Reaves at this summer’s World Cup, what he finds unique about him. “His fearlessness,” last year’s No 1 overall draft pick said, without hesitation. “He’s not scared of any moment, really.” Banchero had, overall, a glowing review of his Team USA teammate (“great guy, super humble”), and was decisive in his view of where Reaves’ career can go from here. “I think he’s on his way to being a star,” Banchero said. “He’s an every-game type of guy, he’s going to show up in the big moments. I’m sure he’s going to hit a lot of big shots for the Lakers. I think he’s going to have a great career.”
It’s not just Banchero, though, who has faith in Reaves. The Lakers’ elder statesman himself, LeBron James, has articulated his confidence in him. In their locker room in Los Angeles, James tells Reaves: “You’re a star, man.” Reaves grins back at him, shaking his head. “Ha. Fake it till you make it.” But fakes don’t fool James, and the evidence is mounting: Reaves isn’t one.
