Hang Tim Duncan's Whole Wardrobe Next to His Jersey

Tall, awkward, and light skinned with an emotionally unavailable hairline. These are all terms I would use to describe both myself and Tim Duncan, who just so happened to be my favorite basketball player growing up. The five-time NBA champion is regarded as one of the best power forwards to ever grace the sport. With today’s announcement of his retirement, he leaves an unforgettable legacy. A big part of this legacy is Duncan's widely criticized, soul-crushing inability (or revolutionary refusal) to dress remotely like he played a goddamn professional sport. A true punk rock visionary. To honor his iconoclastic and sustained rebuttal to stylish athletes everywhere, his wardrobe needs to be hung alongside his jersey in the AT&T Center.

Tim Duncan has about as much swag as a slightly open cabinet. He did to basketball fashion what the American public did to Donald Trump when he first announced he was running for president. He scoffed, and ignored it entirely. And we love him for that, because he unintentionally created something that can never be disingenuously duplicated despite recent flies around the shit (I'm looking at you, normcore). On the court, Tim was fundamental and cold with the poise and methodology of a serial killer but still had moments of ham-handed goofiness that made him likeable. Off the court, Tim dressed like he ate cold fries and played Super Smash Bros. while standing up (you know that one dude). His clothes are imbued with a mystical and highly misunderstood dark power that should and will be studied by alien civilizations thousands of years after the world we know has vanished. For this reason, his steeze needs to be retired, forever. These are some looks that defined the legend, Tim Duncan.