When Paul Allen and Neil Olshey walked out of a June meeting with LaMarcus Aldridge, the Portland Trail Blazers’ owner and general manager were uneasy with the two words that had been ominously absent from Aldridge’s lips: Damian Lillard.

Before the start of free agency, the exhausting, contradictory nature of Aldridge left Blazers officials uneasy. When Olshey had arrived as general manager five years ago, Aldridge was a star stranded on a lottery team. Surround me with talent, Aldridge implored. Olshey dipped into the next NBA draft and delivered Lillard, an All-Star point-guard talent with character for miles.

For all of Aldridge’s personal success and the Blazers’ winning over the next three years, for every way in which Lillard tried to be a deferential co-star – passing on praise in the locker room and assertion on the court – Aldridge treated Lillard like a competitor, as someone stealing his spotlight.

Aldridge walked out the door, Olshey reassembled the roster, and Lillard signed a five-year, $120 million extension with one hand and clutched something else with the other: The responsibility that goes with a max deal, with a franchise star’s stature.

And back then, here’s something that no one could’ve imagined: Aldridge’s season could end only 24 hours after Lillard’s, with the Spurs in Oklahoma City for Game 6 Thursday.

Damian Lillard, right, embraces his role as team leader. (AP) More

The Blazers’ season ended Wednesday night in Oakland, and Portland’s loss of LaMarcus Aldridge exposed Lillard for the truth: The kid’s a magnificent player, a powerful leader and a decent rapper. Franchise players are there in good times and bad, and they take responsibility every waking hour.

Perhaps no player and no team earned the respect around the league as Lillard and these young Blazers. Olshey didn’t win NBA Executive of the Year, and Terry Stotts didn’t win Coach of the Year. Lillard still wasn’t chosen as an All-Star, and some people picked the Blazers to finish last in the Western Conference. Truth be told, the Blazers are developing one of the best winning cultures in the NBA, born of a GM and coach forging one of the league’s most formidable partnerships.

Most of all, though: Lillard did it.

“It wasn’t so much about not making the All-Star team, as I think Damian was invested in the team’s success – and what he could do to elevate the team,” Stotts told The Vertical. “Everybody here in Portland felt he was slighted by not making the All-Star team, but he handled it better than the people around him.”

It is no coincidence that C.J. McCollum blossomed beside Lillard, that he gave his young teammate the platform to prosper.

After Aldridge bailed on the Blazers in the Western Conference playoffs a year ago – mailing in his first-round performance and blowing out of Memphis on a private jet without his teammates – those around Lillard will tell you that he vowed to march into that leadership gap.

More than a month before the start of training camp, Lillard organized his teammates for an informal training camp in San Diego. He made sure every player spent his September in Portland, working at the Blazers’ facility. “Special,” Stotts told The Vertical. “Just very unique.”

Suddenly, the Blazers had a strong voice and a strong supporter. With Aldridge, the Blazers could’ve been Western Conference championship contenders. Without him, Lillard understood that his presence had to transcend his performance. The Blazers needed more out of him, and deep down, he always believed he had the capacity to deliver it.

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