A bastion of aging gracefully and culture in the NBA, The Knicks’ veteran center Taj Gibson returns for his third season with the team this year. Is there any surer thing than Taj’s impact on and off the court this year?

If NBA culture was a person, and you slipped some truth serum into Mr. NBA Culture’s accountability-flavored tea, and asked the all-knowing deity of organizational kumbaya one simple question, and stipulated that this question was to be answered literally — without all the decorative bullshit tropes and deflective hollow buzzwords that characterize Mr, NBA Culture’s calculated native tongue — and you asked: “who’s your favorite player?” you’d get a one-name answer: “Taj Gibson.”

Yes, Taj Gibson, the New York Knicks’ 36-year-old third-string center, is that guy.

The book on Taj’s cultural intangibles is widely known, his resume as an end-of-the-bench and heart-of-the-locker-room stud is flawless, and the list of reasons for Knicks fans to adore him is long — and growing.

His nickname is “Hard Hat”. He once tried to block a shot with his own sneaker. Honestly, look. He has been awarded the key to the Borough of Brooklyn, where he grew up, for his charity foundation’s impact in the community there. In explaining his decision to return to New York this offseason, despite interest from numerous teams, he answered, “Money doesn’t move me. I just wanted to be a Knick.” He’s played the majority of his career under the maniacal glare of Tom Thibodeau, and has become the undisputed on-court pestle to his forever coach’s sideline mortar: all defensive work and all defensive grind all of the defensive time. He perfectly embodies the evangelical blue-collar ethos of his team’s city and his city’s coach.

Part of the appeal of Taj the player is that his effort levels do not vary according to his NBA jersey. But part of what made his presence on last year’s magical Knicks roster so special is that his connection to the city isn’t borne of a theoretical reverence for the from-a-distance reputation of “The Mecca”: it’s borne of real roots. When the Knicks won Game 2 against the Hawks in the spring, in an emotional postgame interview, we got a glimpse of how much the Knicks have always mattered to Gibson, who shared a story about how as a rookie with the Chicago Bulls, he would talk to Coach Thibs about how magical it would be to win in the playoffs playing for the Knicks. 

Leon Rose re-signed the 36-year-old to a two-year, $10.1 million deal using the room exception on Aug. 3. Initially the deal was for less money, for the veteran’s minimum $2.6 million, but was re-worked to get Taj a bigger payday and give the Knicks a more moveable salary to use in future trades. But what’s easily lost in the signing, bringing back a 12th man and cultural cornerstone on a usefully-sized contract, is that The Hard Hat can still play. Like, really play.

In that euphoric Game 2 win against the Hawks, the Knicks’ first playoff dub in eight long seasons, it was Gibson who had a team-high +23 in 30 minutes of action, by far the best mark on the roster. 

In that series, it was Gibson who did the best job defending the borderline indefensible Trae Young and Clint Capela spread pick-and-roll. Per Cleaning The Glass, in the playoffs, his +14.2 net rating was one of only three positive impacts in the Knicks rotation, just behind Alec Burks’ +21.9 and well ahead of Derrick Rose’s +1.0. He led all playoff bigs in steal percentage at 2.6% — almost a full percentage point ahead of Robert Covington’s (who is generously listed as a “Big”) second-placed 1.8%.

His eight steals and five blocks in the series were indicative of his versatility defensively. He could simultaneously deter Trae’s floater and challenge Clint’s lob dunk in the split second where Trae decides to shoot or pass. He has feet quick enough to be in the right spot at the right time, and hands quick enough to disrupt and deflect interior passes. He can trap the pick-and-roll, hedge the pick-and-roll, or drop in the pick-and-roll — crucially keeping the offense on its toes in mixing up coverages. He’s a smart helper without being a reckless helper. He’s active in every defensive slide, for every second of every defensive possession — on and off the ball. He’s manipulative, stunting at and baiting ball handlers into passes to teammates in bad spots, where Taj is waiting to contest. Despite his size, he still protects the rim some, without compromising his responsibilities elsewhere.

In short, as Thibodeau himself said last season, Taj is one of the best and most fundamentally reliable pick-and-roll defenders in the league: a master of a form of ruthlessly unsexy rim protection predicated almost entirely on deterrence rather than the highlight-hogging contests of higher-flying bigs.

With Gibson on the floor in the playoffs, the Knick defense was 11.1 points per 100 possessions better — an 89th percentile impact, and a number just below, for context, Giannis Antetokounmpo’s 11.5- and Rudy Gobert’s 12-point defensive impact.  

Small, five-game playoff sample as this is, it would have been even smaller without Gibson.

Far from some throwback playoff-only impact, Taj was productive in the regular season, too. He had the third-best net rating on the team, with the Knicks +5.2 points per 100 possessions better with him on the floor — a regular season mark that trailed only Rose (+10.6) and Immanuel Quickley (+8.2).

In what was his 12th NBA campaign, albeit in limited minutes, per Basketball-Reference, Gibson logged some career or near-career numbers. Per 36 minutes, he had career bests in turnovers (0.8), steals (1.2), and field goal percentage (63%). He also grabbed his third-most rebounds per-36 of his career (9.6) and swatted the fourth-most shots per-36 of his career (1.9). This shot blocking activity is particularly noticeable, given his previous three seasons — two with the Minnesota Timberwolves and his first with the Knicks — were the three worst of his career.

All this is to say: Taj clearly still has a lot of effective basketball in the tank, which, coupled with his standing as a certified titan of culture, makes him about as complete a 12th man as an NBA team can hope for. 

Taj Gibson is emblematic of the Knicks’ two greatest strengths this season — depth on the court, and organizational kumbaya off it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to get a face-sized tattoo of Mr. NBA Culture’s favorite player’s face somewhere on my body. Maybe my chest. And maybe a hard hat, on the side of my neck, while I’m there. And before you ask, no, actually, I’m not in any way related to Taj. And also, no, I’m not clinically insane. I am, however, aware that carrying a few oceans worth of water for a player who’ll likely get but a few bit part lines in next season’s Knicks script is a smidge over the top. That there are many things he cannot and will never be able to do. That he is the definition of solid and far from spectacular.

But damn it he is spectacularly solid.

A calming cup of cultural bedtime cocoa. A player who operates in the unheralded seams of an NBA game. A dude who whistles as he works.

It’s this simple solidity that lends itself to a sense that everything special about last season — by far the most enjoyable Knicks season I can remember — feels somehow, intuitively, despite far better All-NBA avatars for last years success, like it dovetails ever so smoothly with what makes Taj Gibson special. That, even if he only plays a handful of minutes next season, the team will be better off for his presence regardless, benefitting from a general atmospheric waft of sleeves-up and head-down work. That if he’s called upon, we can be as confident as Brock Aller with a calculator that he and his hard hat will be ready to play.