For all his passion and exuberance, Russell Westbrook cuts a grim figure across the NBA. His intensity borders on caustic; his laser focus is tinged with acrimony; and his personality is often described as moody and standoffish. For many fans, Durant's decision to leave Oklahoma City was a binary of disloyalty, and it turned Westbrook into an unlikely hero, his vendetta against the league reimagined as a one-man crusade. But casting Russ as an avenging angel has always been off the mark, and it overlooks all that's demonically glorious about his game. His torrid play this year isn't about revenge, it's about perfection—which is why the first half of his season is probably just the beginning.

Russell Westbrook on Kevin Durant's Departure, His Renegade Style, and Stepping Up This Season Russ is ready...but are we ready for Russ?

Anti-social bent aside, Westbrook probably isn't thrilled at losing an All-Star Game popularity contest to Steph Curry or former teammate James Harden. But the snub is relative: He'll still play heavy minutes and, given his total unwillingness to observe All-Star decorum, could very easily take over the game. In fact you'd almost expect him to enter the game guns blazing, out to prove the world wrong and send a scathing message to anyone who would deny him his propers.

Except…that's how Westbrook plays every single night, whether he's avenging a specific someone or something, or not. He's incendiary as a rule and it's almost unimaginable that he could ever summon up more ferocity. There's no such thing as more or less Russell Westbrook. For all his volatility, he's actually remarkably constant. The truth is, snubs make no difference to Russell Westbrook, because he's already playing as if the world is about to end. When he gets fixated on opponents, or his own teammates, he isn't seeking external motivation. He's after confirmation of what he already thinks and feels.

On the surface, Westbrook's season has been a study in dissonance. He's the league's ultimate one-man show and the Thunder's system is essentially an extension of his game. His output, while otherworldly, suggests a player who has decided to do it all himself. Without the even-handed KD around to regulate the offense, Russ has free rein to let loose his every impulse. Yet at the same time, Westbrook has never been a more responsible or convivial teammate. He's never reluctant to give up the ball and delights in helping big men Steven Adams and Enes Kanter get easy buckets. The stat lines only tell part of the story: His triple-doubles come naturally, not greedily, filling all sorts of voids for a team that's sorely lacking in talent. Westbrook has also emerged as a steady leader. He feeds off of the Thunder's chemistry while remaining indecipherable to those on the outside. And it's yielded results: Despite prolonged injuries to Victor Oladipo and now Kanter, the Thunder have a 31-25 record, good enough for seventh in the West and, barring a major slide, a guaranteed trip to the playoffs.

The millions of viewers who tuned in for Kevin Durant's return to Oklahoma City in early February didn't do it just to glimpse the angry, aggrieved crowd at Chesapeake Arena. The assumption was that Westbrook would be out for blood—that whatever good will knitted him and KD together for eight seasons would unravel into utter scorn and dismemberment. And for the most part they got their wish: the game was never terribly close, but it was chippy, and the tension came to a head in the second half when Westbrook started barking at KD heading into a timeout. The final score was 130-114, but Westbrook finished with 47 points—15 over his average, and presumably a reflection of just how badly he wanted to get this win and send a message to Durant.