The NBA Finals have been nothing short of spectacular. And for those who haven’t been watching? I genuinely feel for them. This is the apex of basketball, the dream stage for every player, where legends are born and the sport shows off its most poetic form. What we’re witnessing between the Oklahoma City Thunder and the Indiana Pacers isn’t just competition. It’s theater, it’s art. A buzzer-beater. Wild momentum swings. Beautiful, high-level basketball that flows with rhythm, purpose, and intensity.

And on Sunday, it all ends.

Perhaps, in some strange way, that final buzzer could benefit the Phoenix Suns.

Because one of these teams, despite playing their hearts out, despite executing at the highest level, will lose. That’s the cruel beauty of competition. And while both the Thunder and Pacers have displayed the kind of cohesion Suns fans can only dream of, the reality is that they’ll have to look in the mirror once the confetti falls. And if the thought creeps in, just a whisper of “we need a little more to get over the hump”, could a Kevin Durant reunion be on the table?

Far-fetched? Sure. Both organizations have built themselves the long, hard way. No shortcuts, no superteam assembly lines. They drafted wisely. They cultivated culture. They bet on player development and identity. And yes, they added high-salary players along the way. But those additions complemented what they already had, not replaced it.

Still…one loss changes everything.

And in the aftermath of Game 7, someone might be tempted to tip the scales. Someone might call Phoenix. Because for all of Durant’s drama, his gravity is undeniable. And if one of these teams dares to chase that final 5% — that missing piece that pushes them from great to immortal — then maybe the Suns will find their suitor.

It’s the same conversation we’ve had all postseason long. When a team falls short, especially one that’s clawed its way to the edge of basketball immortality, you can’t help but wonder: how do they see themselves now? How do they measure where they stand in the shifting tides of the league?

If it’s the Pacers who come up short, I don’t see them picking up the phone for Kevin Durant. Why? Because they’ve built something real. Back-to-back Eastern Conference Finals. Now, a Game 7 in the NBA Finals. That’s a foundation, not a fluke. And when you look at the Eastern Conference next year, it’s softening. Jayson Tatum’s injury could ripple through Boston’s plans. The star migration west continues. And oh yeah, Dallas, who just won the lottery, is only getting scarier.

So if you’re Indiana, you stay the course. You run it back. You don’t dismantle your culture to bring in a mercenary, even one with Durant’s firepower. You’re no longer chasing relevance, you’re perched right on the doorstep. The East is wide open, and they have the keys.

Now, Oklahoma City? That’s a slightly different story.

The Thunder are walking toward a financial reckoning. Chet Holmgren is nearing the end of his rookie deal. His $13.7 million team option is likely a formality before a max extension. Jalen Williams and Cason Wallace are on a similar timeline. And Jalen just dropped 40 in Game 5 of the Finals. Lu Dort? He is two years from unrestricted free agency. The bill is coming due.

So while it might seem unlikely, it’s not impossible to imagine OKC glancing at their championship window, at their soon-to-balloon payroll, and asking the big question: why not cash in some of that long-term control for short-term, nuclear-level firepower? Why not bring Kevin Durant home?

Imagine it. Durant hoisting the Larry O’Brien Trophy, confetti raining down in Paycom Center, tears in his eyes as he grabs the mic and yells, “Oklahoma City, this is for you!” His LeBron moment. Full circle. The ghosts finally laid to rest.

Sure, it’s probably a pipe dream. Pure speculative fantasy, born of a long offseason and too many hours spent staring at cap sheets and highlight reels. The odds of Durant landing with either of these teams are slim at best.

But the deal hasn’t happened yet. The Suns are still holding the grenade.

And until it finally explodes, we’re allowed to dream. Because that’s what the NBA summer is for. Daydreams, conspiracies, and irrational hope.

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