“As long as people keep having kids, there’ll always be something to do.” — Henry Resnick, an old friend.
PRELUDE
When I first began following basketball, the early Knicks had several star players, but one of them missed a lot of games. How come? During his five full seasons (1949-54) as a Knick, Ernie Vandeweghe played a reduced schedule of games, because he was moonlighting as a medical student. Dr. Vandeweghe’s entirely sensible approach to load management came to mind when Magic Johnson made his post-AIDS comeback, and played only sparingly on the road or in back-to-back games. “Do you have to have AIDS to be allowed to take care of your body?,” I wondered.
I. LADIES FIRST
Just when I was waxing most enthralled at Las Vegas Aces floor general/point goddess Chelsea Gray’s handle and the across-the- board high level play of the WNBA, my new favorite pro basketball player was sidelined for Game Four of the Finals with a foot injury. Women following in men’s footsteps has long been a feminist sticking point, but the game seems to have been sufficiently mansplained to enable Chelsea Gray (whom I was going so far as to liken to Earl Monroe) and her friends to go it alone.
Even without her, Ms. Gray’s Las Vegas Aces proved the stronger of the WNBA’s two super-teams (the other being the New York Liberty). That being settled, the women stepped aside for the NBA, now seeming to require teams wishing to be considered championship contenders (1) to amass at least three arguable superstars. This hunt for “the right third” often wreaks havoc, turning former MVPs into haggling malcontents or odd misfits: Russ and James, take bows, please. Paul George and Kawhi Leonard are waiting in the wings.
Just then, it was revealed that Golden State’s Warriors had committed to bringing a new WNBA team to the Bay Area. This was wonderful news for Bay Area sports fans, likely soon to be in need of a new team in which to invest their surplus love, as the Warrior dynasty is finally crumbling (2), but equally so for women’s basketball’s growth. The women’s game grows at an accelerating rate, more so with each succeeding season, and will receive a significant boost by association with the San Francisco Bay area, in all its turmoil. In this case, more turmoil may be better.
As if with ruffled feathers, I bristled at the news. I felt sad. Why? The WNBA, in many ways, playing the shorter season that their avoid-the-NBA summer-only season mandates, represents, aspirationally, a role model for the men’s pro game. Would their being financially embedded within the NBA, and thus beholden to the whims and outrages of the NBA juggernaut’s business model, eventually homogenize and dampen their precious product? And what could I learn from my greater enthusiasm for watching the women?
II. BOYZ NIGHT UP
Meanwhile, between trips to gender neutral bathrooms, Commissioner Adam Silver was contorting himself out of recognizable shape in laying down load management guidelines; or are they rules? Players must now appear in at least sixty-five of eighty-two scheduled games to qualify for postseason awards. This implicates eligibility for selection to all-NBA teams, which in part determines the amount of money players can earn on max contracts, under the league’s salary cap bylaws.
So what’s our reward for staying loyal to the NBA, and paying attention this early in a too-long season? An in-season tournament, which is at bottom a capitulation to the gambling mentality (3) that has blitzkreiged sports at a dramatically accelerated rate, like women’s basketball’s level of raw talent. Alarmingly, Mark Cuban’s announced his sale of the majority interest in the Dallas Mavericks to Las Vegas based casino-owning Miriam Adelson, the widow of far-right bad actor Sheldon Adelson.
With me so far? Just hanging out in my transfer portal (or is it more like a bardo?), trying to manage my own load of information and hype. What’s this in-season tournament, I wondered, not yet having comprehended it (if indeed I ever finally did, when my son explained it clearly)? I was trying to figure out the tournament format, to fathom those crazy colored courts, and to take in enough information to decide whether, even at my best — as a young adult — I’d have had any more chance of gaming the next guy than other better-rounded kids had against me when we’d bet Penny a Point.
An even harder project would be to attempt to master the intricacies of the new and byzantine Collective Bargaining Agreement (4,5) that will soon become only one part of a sea change, when the broadcast rights of ESPN and Turner Sports get renegotiated, with the distinct possibility of yet a third — or even a fourth — corporate titan entering the field. God, it’s complicated! My nostalgic grief at not having grown up under such a tent of sophisticated manipulable numbers evaporates within seconds at the thought of how much there is to comprehend.
But the games; yes, the games. While early-season ones lacked a feeling of competitive tension, it was also clear that the level of skill development was careening (Kareem-ing?) out of control: shooters have unbelievable range, and the ball handling and footwork (with the help of what seems like a full-on moratorium against travelling calls) are staggering. And those psychedelic courts, looking like the detritus of the sixties. When did that decade take place, anyhow? (6).
Ironically, that feeling of competitive tension — or at least the illusion thereof- is exactly what the in-season tournament was designed to restore! Or should I say “simulate”? Only the last game- for “The Cup (7),”– would be an “extra” (eighty-third; not an unmanageable load, right?) game that would not count in the final regular season standings. For emerging victorious, the I.S.T. champions would pocket half a million dollars: just pocket money for the stars, but maybe enough for a second Ferrari, in case you’re just a role player.
III. SEARCHING/WAITING FOR SIGNIFICANCE
I generally wait for Christmas day’s marathon showcase of five carefully chosen games to catch up with what I haven’t yet paid attention to, but with these “special” games in my face, cherished personal custom needed to yield to marketing imperatives.
What was going on here, I wondered? Just as Dr. James Naismith invented the game of basketball as a way to occupy rambunctious New England youth during winter, so the NBA Cup was designed to sustain fan interest between the adrenaline rush of the season’s first games and the Christmas showcase. But even before they moved to the tournament games (notable for their unique and ugly markings defacing courts the league over), certain striking events seemed to be laying out story lines, which I seemed to need to take into account earlier this year. For this, I blame the NBA Cup. Adam Silver, j’accuse.
Among the stars, Dame Lillard’s move to Milwaukee yielded immediate dividends: he poured in 39 in his inaugural game as a Buck, hitting all seventeen of his free throws, while receiving appropriate deferential treatment from established Buck star Giannis Antetokounmpo, who set him up repeatedly during their team’s stretch run. James Harden’s move away from Philly to the Clippers followed Dame’s from Portland to Milwaukee, but these arguably league-shaking moves were just run-ups.
Soon to follow were news of the death of iconic coach Bobby Knight (8) and two more episodes in the ongoing unraveling of Golden State villain/star Draymond Green, whose cunningly vicious nature seemed to have finally gained the upper hand over his uncanny brilliance, in the battle for what one hopes is the something left of his soul (9). Draymond was back only six games from a five-game suspension for wrapping an opposing player (Rudy Gobert) in a chokehold, when he cold-cocked Portland center Jusuf Nurkic, leading to the NBA’s first-ever “indefinite” suspension.
IV. REDEMPTION COMING?
But then…, the beginning of what hopefully will be a redemptive tale: six days before Christmas, 24-year-old Memphis Grizzly star Ja Morant returned after a twenty-five-game suspension, having apparently been helped by his regimen of counseling, and expressing a new and decidedly positive attitude (10).
It was on December 19 (the tenth anniversary of my father’s death) that Morant made his spectacular return: 34 points, capped by an amazing, twisting game-winning shot on a 1-on-5 drive down the middle, to cement a 115-113 win for the formerly hapless Memphis Grizzlies, who had been down 56-33 before Ja led their comeback. They had been 6-19 without Morant, but proceeded to win four straight with him back! (Then, with Ja under the weather, they ran into Denver, and lost 140-105). This team could make lots of trouble down the line, if they jell; along with Morant, they have Derrick Rose, Marcus Smart, Desmond Bane, and Jaren Jackson.
On that same night, Stef Curry’s spectacular three pointer capped an overtime win over the Celtics, who came into town sporting the league’s best record. Big Day, December 19! AND: the WNBA released its 2024 business plan, featuring a forty-game schedule (for only the second time ever) to begin May 14, two days after Mother’s Day, along with — get ready — a special in-season tournament, to take place in June, with a mid-season break (July 20-August 15) for the Olympics in Paris. The hope is that, by then, the league will have added future stars Caitlin Clark and Paige Bueckers.
V. THE TALENT IN THE ROOM
The NBA is loaded like never before: one, two, three, a million dudes close to superstar status, either just having attained it, or about to get there very soon: not just Lebron, Stef, Dame, Anthony Davis, Joel Embiid (Almost Wilt-like in spurts, Embiid had a string of 12 straight 30 point/10 rebound games), Giannis Antetokounmpo, Devin Booker, Luka Doncic, and Jason Tatum, but Anthony Edwards, Jalen Brown, De’ Aaron Fox, Jalen Brunson, Tyrese Haliburton, and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander; just after we were digesting and speculating about Kyrie Irving and Ben Simmons. Not to mention Tre Young and old Kevin Durant.
Line up, you guys.
And now we also have intimations of Kawaii Leonard becoming his old self, and maybe James Harden too. How even describe the ever-expanding level of talent? “Ridiculous” is the new “unbelievable!” All these guys check their consciences at the gate. Like their ancestors from the Oscar-Elgin-Wilt Era, and the Larry-Magic-Michael-Hakeem days, these guys are constantly astounding. Six players are averaging over thirty points, precedented only by the insane 1961-62 season when Wilt averaged 50.4 (11). Let’ see AI take a crack at simulating them!
Is there any room at the top? And we haven’t even gotten to the new race of Giant Unicorns: Chet Holmgren has joined Victor Wembanyama to launch a new category, a subspecies of the unicorn: the very slender, highly skilled, position-less 7’1-7”5 dude. Wemby and Chet (whose OKC team started out 20-9) join three other, more physically developed Bigs (Embiid, Jokic, and Antetokuonmpo), who have accounted for the last four MVP’s.
Add Anthony Davis, who is right on their level when he’s not hurt. And Lebron, despite turning 39 this week, seems not to have declined at all, however many younger guys have joined him at the super- elite status that used to belong to him alone. And for title contenders in search of a third star, how about Kristaps Porzingis’s virtual transformation upon becoming a Boston Celtic? Particularly because he had been hide-bound to such dysfunctional franchises as the Phil Jackson-Carmelo Anthony Knicks and the current Washington Wizards, KP is demonstrably delighted to be part of the hallowed Celtic organization. Being interviewed after a recent win, he seemed like a delighted child (albeit a 7’3” one) whose whimsical intelligence and charm are finally being given room to breathe. It would be a special treat to see him battle Jokic in the June Finals, which may even coincide with the WNBA mid-season break!
VI. CHRISTMAS AT LAST: AN ANTICLIMACTIC SHOWCASE
The Knicks, starting four lefties (harkening back to Willis Reed and Dick Barnett, with Phil Jackson off the bench), got 38 points from budding superstar Jalen Brunson, whose ability to control a game’s flow makes him Walt Frazier’s true descendant, and led the Milwaukee Bucks all the way to a 129-122 win. It was a terrific opener, all the more so for being broadcast by Professor off Basketball Emeritus Hubie Brown. That could have been enough. Like the old days when the home team always won the only game of the day.
The rest of the day, I watched only sporadically. On it went, with Denver dispatching Golden State 120-114, with Jokic making all eighteen of his free throws. With Lebron having a subpar game for him, Anthony Davis wasted a 40-point effort in a 126-115 Laker loss to Boston. Then, an anticlimactic 119-113 Miami-76er game, which Embiid sat out with an injury. Will he make the requisite quota of sixty-five games needed to defend his MVP crown? Finally, Luka Doncic chimed in with 50 points, exceeded only twice before on Christmas Day, in a 128-114 Dallas win, as Kyrie Irving looked on in street clothes.
The league is very much in flux, along with the exploding talent. Lots will happen. It’s a very long season, and the women, hoping for potential superstars Caitlyn Clark and Paige Bueckers to join and supercharge them, will have started well before the men are finished. Clark will do for the WNBA what Curry did for the men: dramatically extend the range for three-point shooters, but the constant and seemingly obligatory comparisons with the men are misguided, as they fail to take into account that the women’s three-point line is between one and two feet further in, and that they play with a smaller ball.
But no longer does the designation of “beautiful game” apply to the men’s league alone. The spirit of the WNBA sparkles in its own right, and as the inevitable corporatization occurs, the hope is that they will manage their load gracefully and hold tight to their own unique exploding aesthetic.
Me, I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
I’ll have to pay to see Caitlyn Clark
Roll them fuckin’ dice.
NOTES
1 Being championship contenders is not necessarily the same as actually getting near the goal line, as the Miami Heat proved last year in their 4-0 Finals loss to Denver.
2 But think: after losing the 2018-2019 Final to Toronto, two of its great stars, Klay Thompson and Kevin Durant would not appear in a Warrior uniform for nearly two years, or EVER, and only three seasons later, they won another title.
3 I vividly recall 1950’s Madison Square Garden fans suddenly cheering- without warning- for a meaningless (except to the gamblers) final basket that the point spread rendered critical. Using the point spread as a determinant — even a minor one — of who advances in the I.S.T (soon to be mercifully rebranded as the NBA Cup) represents yet another capitulation to the gambling mentality, a mentality that draws in (ahem!) “patrons” who are not really basketball fans; it swells the ranks of fandom with wannabes who are there for the ride, the glitter, the show, the rush, the high.
4 I have long lamented not having grown up with these complexities, which might have made me seriously embark on a path to become a general manager, but I am awestruck by the newest CBA deal: a load too unmanageable for me!
5 Someone once remarked that the reason we have such complicated business arrangements is that people get so fabulously rich that, nowadays, the smarter people who used to enter the fields of law and medicine are now populating the world of finance, where there was always more money to be made, but not THAT MUCH more.
6 For an excellent treatise on the role of race, racism, and anti-racism in the development of modern pro basketball, and the centrality and significance of the ever-blackening face of the 1970’s NBA (most notably Spencer Haywood, Connie Hawkins, and Earl Monroe), see Theresa Runstedtler’s Black Ball: Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Spencer Haywood, and the Generation that Saved the Soul of the NBA. Dr. Runstedtler is an historian, a scholar of African and American Studies, whose prose style is powerful, direct, and uncontentious. Her research is thoroughgoing. Having been “there,” I feel as if she was too.
7 Perhaps to the delight of golfers, ESPN’s Doris Burke habitually refers to the basket as the “cup,” but she will need to alter this designation, as the NBA marketing guys have come, a season late, to recognize how silly “In-Season Tournament,” or “I.S.T.” sounds, and will mercifully rebrand it as “The NBA Cup.”
8 News of Knight’s death occupied the sports pages right around the time that an article appeared about Duke’s 19-year-old 6’3” Jared McCain, a top 15 national recruit in the current college freshman class, capitalizing on TikTok dance videos; a Tik Tok Star with two million followers. This morsel had me remembering my first glimpse of Mike Krzyzewski, taking charges for then 24-year-old Army Coach Knight. Having decried Knight’s behavior and indeed character in print several times, I am surprised to find a note of sympathy rising up in me, as I read others’ reactions to his death. Especially for his brutal over-reaction to that clueless and unsuspecting Texas Tech student’s idiotically disrespectful “Whassup, Knight?”
9 Very sad for me: I had felt proud to have been a first responder to Green’s unique talent, detecting something near his eventual level of uncanny brilliance as early as his first two years (2012-14) with Golden State, when he was getting scant playing time as a second-round draft pick. I even championed him as the true key to the Warriors’ success in their early championship years: I loved how devilishly smart he was (a seeming testimonial to his universally beloved Michigan State Coach Tom Izzo, who often showed up for his big games)! I considered him to be essential to the elevation of Stef Curry to superstar status before Curry bulked up and, in my eyes, actually came to deserve his accolades.
But with his striking out at Lebron’s privates and thereby taking himself out of Game Five and a highly probable 4-1 series victory, Green opened the door for a Cleveland comeback that shook the sports world, and turned me from being his greatest supporter to perhaps the only person in this fanatically loyal sports town who did not root for the beloved home team, that paragon of basketball as it was meant to be played. Instead, waiting the vindication that now may finally have come, I contented myself with memories of the Knicks of 1969-70 and 1972-73, and the Trail Blazers of Bill Walton’s tragically short time of dominance in Portland.
My timely defection spared me the pain I would no doubt have felt at Golden State’s later (2022) mismanagement of Green’s blatant assault in a practice on smaller younger team-mate Jordan Poole, who should have been Draymond’s rightful mentee. Shockingly, highly respected and much-beloved Warrior Coach Steve Kerr could do no more than decry the team’s failure to keep the whole incident all in the family.
10 Unfortunately, this should not bear heavily on how we regard Green’s case. Their differences in both age and temperament could hardly be greater. Morant is an exuberant, unpolished young man with a youthful full embrace of the game, whereas Draymond seems — from his calculated and sophisticated expressions, razor sharp wit, charm, and guile — to have been born old.
11 Even then, because Elgin Baylor’s 38.2 average was achieved in just 48 games, as he was playing on leave from military service, only five players were officially averaging over 30 points.