Last weekend, the Kevin Durant-Lil B feud re-erupted last weekend with the release of “Fuck KD”, which flips a DJ Khaled melody into the catchiest song you’ll ever hear about why the second best basketball player in the world can go fuck himself. Why Lil B is so adamant about playing Kevin Durant in a basketball game is beyond you and me, but the feud dates back to 2012. B, responding to Kevin Durant calling him a "wack" rapper, ultimately placed the "Based God's Curse" on Durant. Though Lil B eventually lifted the curse, Kevin Durant still hasn't won an NBA Championship leading the West's best team for several seasons. The vibe, well... it could be friendlier.
It might just be a matter of time before Durant does indulge Lil B for a game. But what if we didn’t have to wait?
What would it be like if Durant and Lil B played 1 on 1? What if technology enabled us to see this game right now? Enter NBA 2k14, which is the most recent iteration of the celebrated basketball videogame franchise and comes equipped with a player creation tool that would allow me to put a version of Lil B on the court. A version of the Based God that took his Based bragging at Based value, which meant combing through his lyrics and words to translate his so-called basketball skills into digital attributes.
For example: In “Fuck KD”, Lil B mentions how he’ll “3 point on your bitch like Dirk Nowitzki” while bragging about about his versatility near the rim (“might layup, might dunk on your bitch”). Giving him a 99 in all three categories seemed apt, as did top marks in hustle (“gotta hustle hard that’s all I know”), post offense (“I’ll post you up”) and emotion (“I’ll choke the coach”). In that interview with SB Nation he stated, “I have amazing defense. My defense is better than my offense.” That was enough to earn him a special skill as a “lockdown defender,” along with the “microwave” ability to get cooking in a hurry. Not that it was all positive: Anyone who’s sifted through however many songs are in‘05 Fuck Em knows he can be a little iffy with song selection, which means he got docked for consistency. He doesn’t always hold down his flow, either, so I sunk his ability to hold onto the ball. (He remained a great passer, though, because being Based is about sharing the love.)
Still, it would’ve been too easy to make the Based God a Basketball God. Even someone as transcendent like Durant isn’t without flaw. Lil B needed a weakness deeper than consistency issues or a penchant for turnovers; he needed something that would counteract the several skills he’d combined into potential stardom. He needed his real height: five foot six, short by real world standards and dwarf-like in the NBA. I could close my eyes and imagine the Based wavelength imbuing Lil B with a perfect shooting stroke; I could not imagine it giving him an extra foot of height. So I plugged him in at five foot six, and began.
I pondered how far to take it—whether to make five Lil Bs to play against five Kevin Durants, or whether to let the computer duke it out for itself. But the height disadvantage for so many short Lil Bs seemed unsurmountable, and the computer would never know how to properly use B as the conduit for all the team’s hopefully good fortunes. That meant the most basic setting (a game of 1 on 1) controlled by the most basic agent (me). That was… hard. I’m not great at the game, because it requires a level of hypersensitive dexterity with the analog sticks that I don’t have the patience for. But Lil B, for all the skills I’d given him, was still the sum of his height—desperately overmatched against Durant, just as expected. Lil B would get off a shot here and there, scraping and bumping inside against Durant’s gigantic frame, but his defense was comically ineffective—Durant would simply rip through any attempt to keep him in check, dunking or even shooting over Lil B’s outstretched arm.
Final score: Durant 21, Lil B 10, Durant with too many blocks to mention. It was disappointing, but there was salvation in sight: I decided to put Lil B on the roster of his hometown Golden State Warriors, and started a game against Thunder where he was once assigned to covering Durant. This time was a little more promising. Lil B was still… not great at staying on front of his man, but with an army of Based believers on his side him—aka notorious Aussie hack artist Andrew Bogut and his Swiss Army knife swingman Andre Iguodala—it became easier to contain the Slim Reaper.
Meanwhile, Lil B was a maestro at running the Warriors offense—despite that propensity for getting blocked inside (5'6'' is 5'6'') he could drop perfect passes to wherever any of his teammates were, pull up to nail any open shot, and dunk with authority when running the fast break.
I remained not good at the maneuvering of Lil B’s body into any kind of aesthetically pleasing basketball, but he could get close enough to float it over a surprised defender. Adopting the strategy of “shoot with Lil B when you have space,” I hoisted it up an unfathomable thirty-two times—a very un-Based stat line, but balanced by the seventeen baskets he created for his teammates. Durant was aggravated just enough to keep the Thunder from winning; even intentional fouling couldn’t help narrow the gap toward the end.
Video by Joseph Schulhoff
It was a good, silly time, living in this simulated world where it was plausible that Lil B might beat the second best basketball player at his own game. Because what would happen if they really did play? The satisfying upset wouldn’t be a win or even a made basket—it would be the acknowledgement that Lil B was here, on the court, making one world acknowledge the existence of his own. That would add up to something you might call Based World: a bunch of different people, out of their bubbles and being themselves in the same space.