You’d think that watching LeBron James, Chris Paul and Kobe Bryant—the best of the NBA—coming together to play a friendly five-on-five would be worth watching, right? Then why did I switch over to a cable-censored version of Demolition Man after the first 30 minutes? It’s a question I pondered intently after witnessing Sly Stallone’s 20th f-bomb come out as “fudge.” Rolling my eyes as Wesley Snipes quipped, “Simon says…die!” and then turning the TV off completely, I searched for a plausible explanation as to why the loudest sound in the Toyota Center this week was caused by the crickets.
NBA all-star weekend
You’d think that watching LeBron James, Chris Paul and Kobe Bryant—the best of the NBA—coming together to play a friendly five-on-five would be worth watching, right? Then why did I switch over to a cable-censored version of Demolition Man after the first 30 minutes? It’s a question I pondered intently after witnessing Sly Stallone’s 20th f-bomb come out as “fudge.” Rolling my eyes as Wesley Snipes quipped, “Simon says…die!” and then turning the TV off completely, I searched for a plausible explanation as to why the loudest sound in the Toyota Center this week was caused by the crickets.
The lack of a competitive edge is the most obvious answer to the yawning onlooker. Unlike the MLB’s All-Star Game, in which the National League and American League all-stars battle it out to determine which league’s champion will get home-field advantage in the World Series, the outcome of the NBA All-Star Game lacks an incentive for players to try their best. As fun as it is to see LeBron dunk on fast breaks, the proceedings lose some of their luster if the defense rolls out the red carpet and steers clear of the charging forward.
I attribute the failure of fan support for the All-Star Game to the organization of the event as a media spectacle rather than something even remotely linked to an actual sporting experience. I’m not sure that we really need to see Fall Out Boy (featuring an out-of-place 2 Chainz) decked out in Michael Jordan Chicago Bulls jerseys for eight-plus minutes, or get a shot of Russell Westbrook’s ridiculous outfit a dozen times during the night. Instead of discussing how Kobe has been in every All-Star Game since 2000, we are treated to multiple camera angles of Drake jumping up and down and high-fiving his crew.
The highlight of the All-Star week is undoubtedly the dunk contest, the only event that I could sit through in its entirety. It’s a celebration of what any fan—casual or avid—enjoys, especially when it’s injected with a little style and pleasant absurdity. Although this year’s dunk contest was a bit weak compared to previous affairs (note to dunkers: please stop trying to leap from the free-throw line—you’re not Jordan), the competition had its moments. I particularly enjoyed Utah Jazz power forward Jeremy Evans’ arrangement—dunking over an object that was covered with a black sheet, and then removing the sheet to reveal a painting of himself dunking over a black sheet. Also, he painted it.
It’s just too bad that a main-event primer is more entertaining than the main event. It’s also too bad that the NBA All-Star Game itself has regressed to the same level of fan indifference as the NFL’s Pro Bowl. Like the Pro Bowl, the NBA All-Star Game will never match the level of intensity that a regular-season or playoff game will bring, and fans are left with a competition characterized by apathy. Once again we are reminded that you can fill an arena with superstar athletes, but if their talents are being restrained, the sport devolves into nothing more than vapid celebrity gawking.
