It started with a party.

With the grand opening of the Jones Assembly, a chic music bar in a hip, developing area and a new symbol of cultural and civic evolution in Oklahoma City, the Thunder said hello to Paul George.

It was an offseason coronation, a celebration of a return to Tier 1 relevance. It was the recovery and restoration of a forlorn contender, with George giving a second chance to a jilted superstar and a heartbroken franchise. It was also Day 1 of George's yearlong recruitment.

But the Thunder weren't finished. Two months later, fans gathered under the smoldering September Oklahoma sun at a hangar at Will Rogers World Airport to watch Carmelo Anthony step off a private jet. Adding George wasn't enough of a swing. It had to be bigger. It had to be bolder.

Then, with Russell Westbrook's signature still missing on a five-year contract extension, Sam Presti applied the full-court press. It was a just-add-water superteam, a roster rebuilt one year after losing its franchise cornerstone. Westbrook signed a few weeks later. George said knowing Westbrook's future would make his own free-agency decision "easier." The roster looked stacked, and things were really good for the Thunder.

Then the season started.

From the beginning, everyone around the team warned against overreactions, as they anticipated a bumpy road. Patience was preached at every opportunity. This was an assembling of stars that would require time to figure some things out -- trial and error was necessary. It was Westbrook, coming off an MVP season in which he set new usage rate records. It was George, who had lived life as the unquestioned alpha of a small-market franchise of his own. And it was Anthony, who lorded over New York and spent the past few seasons in a blink-first staring contest with the Knicks. It was going to take some time.

If you were to put a pitch count on it, the phrase "figure it out" was uttered two to three billion times. There was never any tangible panic, only fleeting moments of anxiety, such as when Westbrook sat on the end of the bench in Orlando following a baffling 13-point loss to the Magic that dropped the team to 8-12, eyes burning holes into hardwood with a blank stare.

The Thunder bounced back with a win in the next game and, up against every wobble, would win just enough, especially against good teams, to validate themselves. Maybe in the end, though, that was the problem -- they never panicked.

Will Paul George be in a Thunder uniform next season? Gene Sweeney Jr./Getty Images

IT WAS THE DAY after Game 3 in the Thunder's opening-round series against the Utah Jazz, and practice was wrapping up at Vivint Smart Home Arena in Salt Lake City. With ice packs on their knees, hoodies cinched up around their heads and slides on their feet, Thunder players hovered near one of the tunnels as the calls for the first bus to leave were shouted out. The conversation was heating up.

It wasn't an argument or debate -- it was a dare. Thunder forward Jerami Grant started it, suggesting one of the team's athletic trainers should get "Thug Life" tattooed across his stomach. Another player chimed in and said he'd put some money up for it. Then another player added more to the pot.

Carmelo Anthony finished an interview, walked over to join the group and asked what was going on. Once he found out, he threw out his own number to add to the pile. With each contribution, the cheers and screams erupted, and the trainer walked around shaking his head. The final pot was said to be nearing six figures, though it's not clear how serious it all was.

"With George headed for free agency and the yearlong recruitment not going to plan on a promise of sustained top-end success, another judgment on Westbrook and the Thunder is coming."

The whole scene had the perfect setup of a team loose and confident following a deflating Game 3 loss, with a massively important Game 4 ahead the next night. The pressure might have been building, but the Thunder weren't sweating.

They lost Game 4 by 17.

All season, they desperately tried to stay together and stay positive. Sources within the team were adamant throughout the season that chemistry was never an issue. Veterans marveled at the connectivity of the group. Everyone was aligned, everyone wanted the same thing. Even as players adjusted to new roles and responsibilities, some having a harder time than others, the buy-in was total.

Among the many issues they ended up with -- fit, focus, consistency -- some rested simply in hubris. They lived in denial all season, right up to the bitter end. After getting whacked in Game 4, it was explained away with their missing shots and the Jazz getting hot. Before Game 5, Anthony forgot what time the game started, showing up to the arena as if it tipped at 7 p.m. local time, rather than the scheduled 8:30 start. He walked down the hallway to the Thunder's locker room, nonchalantly looking around and seeing no one, before realizing he was there way too early. He got in his car and left. They told themselves from Day 1 that they were a superteam, but they existed as such only on paper.

If there ever was a true panic button moment, it came in Game 5 when Jae Crowder hit a 3 to put the Jazz up 25 with 8:34 left in the third quarter. For the first time, the Thunder actually freaked out. There was a true, purified sense of urgency for the first time all season. They weren't good enough. They were kind of, gasp, bad really. The "on" switch they dreamed all year of came in the form of Westbrook and George turning into a two-headed monster that overcame and overwhelmed the Jazz.

Even that night was complicated, though. Anthony was not-so-inconspicuously on the bench during the Thunder's 32-7 run to close third quarter. He was seen begging assistant Mo Cheeks to come back in, and finally got his wish with 7:58 left in the fourth. He was neither good nor bad -- he was merely there -- but after the Jazz targeted him with Donovan Mitchell driving past him twice, Billy Donovan benched him for the final two minutes.