As All-Star Weekend was preparing to kick off in Los Angeles, inside the Clippers’ building of all places, some unfortunate news slipped out ahead of the festivities. And when the notification hit my phone, my first thought was simple and immediate: the NBA did him dirty. I am talking about Chris Paul, who had been traded by the Clippers to Toronto last week, only for the Raptors to waive him yesterday, which ultimately led to Paul deciding it was time to retire.
The timing was brutal, the setting felt ironic, and the whole thing landed with a strange finality, one of the most influential point guards of his era exiting the league quietly while the circus of All-Star Weekend warmed up around a place he called home for 7 of his 21 years.
It is hard to come up with a more unceremonious exit for a player of this magnitude, especially when you stack it against the career Chris Paul put together and the imprint he left on the league. The way this ended feels heavy, awkward, and deeply unsatisfying, like the lights got shut off in the middle of a sentence.
21 years. 7 teams. 23,058 points (41st all-time). 12,552 assists (2nd all-time). 2,728 steals (2nd all-time). 1 NBA Finals appearance.
What the Clippers did here feels dirty, and it deserves to be called that. This was not some forgettable stop late in a career, not a jersey he barely wore. This was the franchise that had no pulse, no credibility, and no real identity for decades until Chris Paul arrived in 2011 and dragged them into relevance. He changed how they were viewed, how they were covered, and how they carried themselves.
Yes, there were playoff disappointments, and yes, there were moments that still sting, but the idea that his final chapter with that organization would end in a quiet transaction and a shrug is something they should be embarrassed by.
Paul came back this past offseason after a year in San Antonio with the understanding, spoken or not, that this was a farewell lap. A chance for fans in Los Angeles and around the league to acknowledge what they were watching for the last time. Instead, he gets rerouted, waived, and left to make a retirement decision in the shadow of All-Star Weekend. That is not closure. That is avoidance.
And sure, plenty of people never loved Chris Paul. He annoyed opponents. He pushed buttons. He lived in the margins of the rulebook and made a career out of being smarter than the moment. But he also left something real everywhere he went. New Orleans. Los Angeles. Houston. Oklahoma City. Phoenix. Golden State. San Antonio. He built a trail of fans who appreciated the way he saw the game and the way he competed.
In a league that has drifted almost entirely toward scoring guards and highlight hunting, Chris Paul was a reminder of something older and more deliberate. A distributor. A tactician. A point guard who controlled tempo, space, and emotion. Watching him work felt like watching a craft that fewer and fewer players bother to learn anymore.
He and head coach Ty Lue reportedly did not see eye to eye, and at some point, the lines of communication went quiet. So the organization made the decision to send him home, one of those situations where the room suddenly felt too small for two strong personalities who both believed in their vision of the game.
The team moved forward without him, found some success along the way, even though Paul’s role had already been reduced to 14.3 minutes per game across 16 appearances, and eventually chose a different direction entirely at the trade deadline. James Harden was sent to Cleveland. Ivica Zubac went to Indiana. The message was clear. Eyes forward. Build toward what comes next.
What makes it linger is that there was also a chance to look backward, to acknowledge what had been given, to honor a career that shaped not only franchises but eras of basketball. I understand the business side of it. I understand the constant push to balance short-term decisions with long-term planning. I understand that Chris Paul is a big personality, one shaped by experience, conviction, and having seen nearly every version of the league over two decades.
The Clippers have been a public relations mess all season, and this only adds another layer to it. Allegations of salary cap circumvention tied to dealings with Aspiration and back-channel payments to Kawhi Leonard have been hanging over the organization like a low cloud. Everyone is waiting with bated breath to see whether there is any real accountability attached to it. Because if there is not, then what exactly are we doing here? At that point, Mat Ishbia might as well start handing out United Wholesale Mortgage stock to free agents and call it innovation.
This organization had a chance to look like the good guy in this moment. A chance to handle a legend with care, respect, and a little self-awareness. Instead, in classic Clippers fashion, they managed to walk away looking like the clown, fumbling optics, legacy, and basic decency all in one motion.
After 21 years in the NBA, one of the defining point guards of his generation fades into the sunset without ceremony, without a moment that fits the weight of the career, and that part sits heavy. Not because it ended, but because of how quietly it was allowed to slip away.
So, from a Phoenix Suns fan, I say thank you, Chris Paul. Thank you for what you gave this league over so many years.
When you arrived in Phoenix in 2020, something shifted immediately. The culture changed. The expectations changed. You showed this fan base that the franchise was not destined to live in the basketball wilderness forever. That Devin Booker was not empty calories or wasted talent. That his gravity meant something, and that winning could exist here again. You gave the Suns credibility, structure, and belief, all at once.
Yes, there were injuries. There always were. But there was also an NBA Finals run, a moment etched into the history of this organization, one that many great point guards who wore this uniform never reached. That matters. It always will. And it’s why you’re in my Phoenix Suns All-Time Pyramid.
So thank you, Chris Paul, for what you meant to the game, for what you meant to Phoenix, and for the standard you brought with you every night. And when the time comes, we will be watching, proud and appreciative, as you take your place in the Hall of Fame.