Nikola Jokić soaked in the love, felt the vibes and unexpectedly was happy to spend parade day in Denver.

The Finals MVP, for once, allowed himself to live in the moment the past couple of days, showing the world a glimpse of his personality while still remaining true to his ethos — giving as little as possible.

But in it, he found out that participating isn’t so bad, that it doesn’t always have to be “play ball, go home, leave me alone.”

And because of the newfound validation of becoming a champion, more will be asked of him. It would help all involved if he obliged every now and again. He doesn’t have to be a statesman, but almost every stamped superstar in the league has had some kind of footprint beyond the 48 minutes on the floor.

Being foreign in an Americanized world can be intimidating if not off-putting. We assume players are comfortable in media settings when many times, the language barrier and anxiety can take over.

The awkward silence can draw uncomfortable laughs, but introverted types can go further into their shell in those moments.

But what does he owe the game, if anything? Does he owe the game more than his on-floor performance?

Jokić draws comparisons to Tim Duncan, and the Nuggets almost seem to mirror Duncan’s Spurs in terms of patient team-building, sustainable excellence and international flavor. Nuggets coach Michael Malone is a bit more rambunctious than Gregg Popovich was in his early days as Spurs czar, and his bravado is refreshing even if he seems to rail against the lowest common denominator of complaints.

Jokić follows the lead of the Nuggets, and after years of being relatively nondescript on the NBA map, they’ve been thrust into the spotlight as champions: as the standard every team will emulate and simultaneously try to take down.

Duncan was noticeably reticent to promote the game, if not downright loath to do anything but play ball. However, in his early years he was part of Nike campaigns and Sprite commercials, some really funny ones that played into his personality.

In one, the defensive wizard walked around town slapping things away from unsuspecting citizens — even approaching a little girl with a lollipop and slapping it from her hand before giving it back.

He didn’t say a single word in it, but the point got across. It was hilarious.

In a Sprite commercial, he was battling with the late Kobe Bryant — a rap battle — topped off by a playground game featuring the two with Missy Elliott finishing up the song.

Catchy, funny and even self-deprecating.

Even if it was early, Duncan seemed to understand he had a responsibility. Either that or he did it kicking and screaming. No matter, nobody knew the wiser.

The NBA wasn’t quite in the place it’s in now, but its stars knew they were standing on the shoulders of giants who helped them accumulate the rising salaries at the time. Since then, it’s increased almost threefold.

Jokić couldn’t remember his first NBA Finals memory he watched as a kid, a product of being in Serbia. He just loved the game, dedicated his professional life to the craft and made his way to the States and has added to the lore — but wants nothing more from it.

It’s hard to say he understands the value of the relationship NBA players have with the public, a far more intimate one than other men’s pro sports, so he’s granted grace.

The fledging league in the ’80s gained traction because of the equity built by Magic and Bird, Isiah and Michael, and of course, Dr. J. It wasn’t a bankable commodity in the eyes of mainstream America, but those players used their personality quirks to their advantage to draw the public in.

Magic and Isiah had these great smiles and charming personalities. Dr. J was stately and classy. Jordan rarely said anything in his early commercials, letting his athletic excellence do the talking while Spike Lee did all the boastful stuff.

Bird, of course, wasn’t anybody’s charming sweetheart, but he was a perfect foil to the smiling Magic — a white guy in a Black league. Like it or not, the public loved that, and Bird was up to the task.

Magic and Bird appeared in only one commercial together but it was memorable, a Converse spot. Bird also appeared in one of the greatest Super Bowl campaigns of all time, a McDonald’s commercial with Jordan where they played a game of one-upmanship.

He didn’t go above and beyond because it wasn’t in his nature, and didn’t have a whole lot of notable quotes, but when he spoke, discussing either Jordan or Magic after playoff games, it became part of NBA lore.

“It’s just God disguised as Michael Jordan,” following Jordan’s 63-point playoff game at Boston Garden.

“Magic is just a great basketball player. He’s the best I’ve ever seen,” after Magic’s junior-junior skyhook in the 1987 NBA Finals.

Perhaps if Jokić had a vocal foil, someone who could serve as an alter ego or ultimate opposite, his silence and dry wit would play better — maybe with his Philadelphia rival, Joel Embiid. And of course, he’d have to be willing.

The days of playing ball and going home or doing the bare minimum feels harder to justify, especially when someone just signed a $272 million max deal last summer.

It’s not pocket-watching but there is something to leaving the game in a better place than you found it, to drawing more fans in because of who you are, not just how you play.

He doesn’t have to be some Madison Avenue cover boy; he doesn’t even have to fake it and be something he’s not.

It’s important to note some players have overextended themselves by trading on their image and risking exposure, so Jokić could be protective for a reason — limiting us to basketball and his older brothers.

In a way, it’s damn near admirable the lengths he goes to deliver little.

The Nuggets have privately and publicly crowed about the lack of respect they’ve received nationally, which will certainly change with their newfound jewelry. They rightfully bristled at every storyline being focused on the Lakers during the conference finals, clearly annoyed at LeBron James taking away a chunk of spotlight in the aftermath of the Nuggets’ sweep by bringing up the possibility of retirement.

They deserve to have the eyes of the world on them, and so does Jokić, even if he dodges the spotlight quicker than he dodges defenders — well, actually, he doesn’t really dodge defenders, he lets them blow by him.

But he could certainly help the NBA, and most importantly, his franchise with some much-needed, earned exposure. The game was built by players who didn’t have to do more, but did. It benefited all.