James Harden is bound for Brooklyn, where his lumberjack beard will endear him to local hipsters and his DIY offense should endear him to basketball fans. (His stance on home composting is unknown.)
There, in the land of brownstones and boutique bodegas, he will join Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving, two other peripatetic NBA beatniks with dazzling skills and glossy résumés. They will form the most fearsome trio in the Eastern Conference, and perhaps in the league.
If it all goes well—if they all sacrifice touches and points, if their skills and egos mesh, if their partnership is as organic as the kale at the Park Slope Food Coop—then perhaps Harden will finally seize the title that has long eluded him: NBA champion.