When traded to the Portland Trail Blazers as part of the deal that sent Eric Bledsoe to Milwaukee last summer, it was believed that the 2018 No. 1 overall pick, Deandre Ayton, could experience a resurgence after falling out of favor with the [Phoenix Suns](ppp5].
Portland, a young and rebuilding team, offered an environment with minimal pressure to win, presenting Ayton with ample opportunities to embrace a more assertive role and mindset compared to his time in Phoenix. However, the anticipated transformation did not materialize.
Consistent with his career narrative, Ayton often receded into the background during games, displaying a troubling tendency to settle for passive offensive plays. His rim rate as a non-spacing center was notably low, and his rim protection statistics were lacking, culminating in a career-low scoring average of 12.5 PPG by late January.
What hindered Ayton’s performance? The explanation provided by Ayton for his struggles was nothing short of peculiar and unprecedented in the realm of professional athletes rationalizing poor play.
In a previous statement, Ayton attributed his subdued play to a period of adjustment, both in terms of acclimating to a new offensive system and integrating with unfamiliar teammates. However, he revealed a deeper layer to his challenges.
“My body wasn’t just my body,” Ayton expressed. “People overlook the human aspect of my adaptation process.”
This encompassed even basic necessities such as obtaining adequate rest.
“Just the comfort of waking up,” he elaborated. “I didn’t have a bed for a considerable period. I relied on an air mattress while trying to navigate through this.”
This revelation starkly contrasts with Ayton’s assertion in the same article that he possesses substantial wealth. Notably, in late January, Ayton boldly declared that he harbored no need to validate his worth in the league, proclaiming himself a max player with nothing to prove.
Setting aside the implications of Ayton’s contentment with subpar performance due to financial security, the focus shifts to the literal aspect of wealth. Despite signing a lucrative $133 million contract less than two years prior, Ayton apparently struggled to secure a proper bed for himself.
Ayton’s narrative suggests a sense of resignation, as if sleeping on an air mattress was an inevitable consequence of relocating as a multi-millionaire. He contends that this substandard sleeping arrangement adversely affected his game, yet he failed to promptly address this issue to enhance his performance.
The juxtaposition of a seven-foot, affluent athlete grappling with sleep deprivation due to makeshift bedding is both incredulous and somewhat relatable. Ayton’s narrative attempts to underscore the humanity of athletes facing real-life challenges, but inadvertently reinforces perceptions of indifference.
While Ayton has recently exhibited a marked improvement in his performance, averaging 29 points and nearly 17 rebounds over four games in March, and 17 points and 11 rebounds in February, the notion that a better bed catalyzed this upturn remains dubious. If bedding did indeed play a role, Ayton bears responsibility for neglecting his sleeping conditions until a later stage.
In conclusion, the saga of Ayton’s bedding woes amidst his professional basketball career serves as a curious anecdote, underscoring the complexities of athlete lifestyles and the peculiarities of individual priorities and responsibilities.