Is it ever too late for redemption?

Yes. Probably.

Whatever you think of James Harden, you thought it Wednesday night.

Perhaps you were amazed by the ambidextrous passing, the underappreciated control of the boards, the quick-handed deflections and timely blocks. “30 points, eight rebounds, and six assists,” you might murmur, nodding sagely as you add, “and the team had a superb 121 offensive rating with him on the floor. Nice!” (That’s how normal people talk, for sure.)

Or, you might have counted the number of times Harden fell to the ground, sneered at the six turnovers and five fouls, and pointed to all the missed free throws and clunky floaters he threw up near the end. “Typical Harden bull droppings,” you’d hiss (probably not quite like that). “They were lucky to win.”

Whichever version sounds like you, you’d be right!

I’m endlessly fascinated by the NBA’s tragic characters, the outcasts who don’t live up to expectations and become shunned by basketball society. Harden is the poster boy for not having the answers to the test (and his persistent defensive gaffes and 30-horsepower motor don’t help). After more than a decade of disappointment, is there any chance he’s finally studied up?

It’s funny, because I don’t believe in the idea of “clutch”. We judge entire careers on split-second actions that are driven far more by luck than any venomous snake DNA in our brains. A couple of shots that rim out or roll in can determine the narrative of an entire career. Father Fortune is very real, and he bestows and retracts his blessings with no notice or warning.

But there is an exception even to my forgiving line of thinking, and that’s when a player is scared to take the chance. Too often, we’ve seen Harden’s shot attempts and touches dwindle down the stretch of big games. “The ball didn’t get back to me,” Harden said once. Mother******, you’re the point guard! You’re a star! The ball didn’t step outside for a pack of cigarettes, never to return. Go get the damn rock!