I hoped that I would never see
The Spurs compete without Timmy
My sons were taught to play the way
Tim Duncan did on every play
For hustle I’d point out Manu
But even he could not outdo
The silent Tim who only glared
And really really really cared
About the game of basketball
Heap praise upon the great LeBron
Grant many years till he is done
Let Curry thrive, and shoot those threes
But we’ll miss the fundamental ease
Of bank shots, rebounds, perfect passes
The guy who went to all his classes
The one who quietly worked and worked
Who built those winners, never shirked
Kobe mamba’d out with sixty
Hulk to Duncan’s mild Bill Bixby
Whereas Timmy barely sent a letter
Both are good, neither better
But the difference surely tells a story
Of different styles pursuing glory
They say the Spurs have got a system
Which soon will show how much they miss him
When first they tip it off next season
And fans must find another reason
For loving this team in silver and black
Despite their pluck and skill and tact
Because now there’s something out of whack
Despite Kawhi’s supreme attack
And LaMarcus, Tony, and new Pau
But you have to sadly wonder how
A creature lives without its heart
Because there goes Timmy Duncan’s art
Which gave a million coaches treasures
And proof it worked to play by measures
Which gave ten million fans such pleasures
Treasures, measures, pleasures — and rings!
Goodbye to all that was Tim Duncan
A superstar who favored function
Who measured success by winning and trying
Who always came back, and never stopped vying.
