What I mean by that is: if I wanted to implement something new?into my game, I’d see it and try incorporating it immediately. I?wasn’t scared of missing, looking bad, or being embarrassed. That’s?because I always kept the end result, the long game, in my mind. I?always focused on the fact that I had to try something to get it, and?once I got it, I’d have another tool in my arsenal. If the price was a?lot of work and a few missed shots, I was OK with that.

As a kid, I would work tirelessly on adding elements to my game. I?would see something I liked in person or on film, go practice it?immediately, practice it more the next day, and then go out and use?it. By the time I reached the league, I had a short learning curve. I?could see something, download it, and have it down pat.

From the beginning, I wanted to be the best.

I had a constant craving, a yearning, to improve and be the best. I?never needed any external forces to motivate me.

During my rookie year, at first, some scouting reports said I wasn’t?tough. The first time I went to the basket in games, I’d get hit and?the defense would think they had me. I’d come back the very next?play and pick up an offensive foul just to send them a message.

I didn’t need that extra push to be great, though. From day one, I?wanted to dominate. My mindset was: I’m going to figure you out.?Whether it was AI, Tracy, Vince—or, if I were coming up today,?LeBron, Russ, Steph—my goal was to figure you out. And to do that,?to figure those puzzles out, I was willing to do way more than?anyone else.

That was the fun part for me.