Perch yourself into the cheap seats at any adult community basketball game on the island, as I did recently at a Hawaii Government Employees Association contest, and you’ll see something quite startling.
Men grown and beyond, some 25 years past their prime, some 25 minutes from passed out are executing the game of basketball in a manner few NBA teams seem willing to undertake. There is passing, movement, more passing and, often times, a sensible shot attempted.
It’s fascinating. There’s virtually more to be learned about basketball watching out of shape adults than pro players.
Now, I’m no fool. I’m not drawing a legitimate comparison between the respective bodies on the floor at each venue. But I am saying this: for the basketball purists, the NBA is unwatchable. It’s worse than lawn darts, bowling and dog shows; it’s got me scanning the TV Guide channel in search of another A&E Biography.
These men on the pro hardwood are supposed to be the torchbearers of the sport, the protagonists in the literature of basketball, the few who have made it to the pinnacle.
But they operate from the spectrum’s other end. Aside from their athleticism, there is nothing pure about many of today’s NBA players. They have trouble running the floor, cutting to the basket and — egad — shooting. At one time, recently even, games flowed with all the efficiency of a good college contest. It was a bit of poetry in motion.
That flow has dissolved into a host of one-on-one forays and clear outs for the most skilled players on the court. Offenses are so horribly predictable as to render actually watching games pointless. Even if the result of the contest is not preordained, the manner in which the end will be wrought truly is.
The theme is not so different from the Magic-Bird-Jordan era of just a few years back, but for some reason that period in NBA history sings of vitality. Sure, you knew Michael was going to take 35 shots in addition to the final one each game. Yeah, the ball was going to find Larry Bird’s hands more often than not, but the game moved back then. Of late, most of the moving is done by free agents looking for the next bloated pay check.
NBA players are often called the best athletes in the world, their bodies able to sustain the ruthless pounding of an 82-game regular season and, for some, an extra 10-20 games in the postseason. But that doesn’t stop me from turning on the television Sunday morning and wondering why the action seems to move in such a deliberate, nauseatingly-slow manner. I know I’m not alone; I know you see it too, because the ratings for NBA games have dropped considerably over the last couple of years.
For a league that relies so heavily on its TV audience, that’s not good. Any questions about just how much the NBA needs its home viewer can be answered by scanning the chairbacks at the arena during many telecasts. It’s like a wasteland.
So, the league is going to try and spice up its games with some new rules. It’s eliminating illegal defense, a rule often misunderstood by the referees themselves. It’s reducing the time allowed the offense to cross half-court from 10 to eight seconds, in an effort to encourage more defensive pressure. And it’s set to allow handchecking, as long as the player with the ball is not impeded.
The last two modifications should prove entertaining, but the elimination of illegal defense means basically one thing: get ready for the zone. And that means prepare for more long-range shooting, something NBA players have shown — collectively — to be one of their shortcomings.
The original intent of the rule changes was to promote movement and speed up the game. Well, the zone defense is the sworn enemy of movement. It’s going to be three passes around the perimeter and a jump shot.
The league has dug itself a hole with it’s encouragement of one-on-one play. Players now leave college early because they see not only money, but the chance to, in a me-against-the-world format, prove they have the most basketball skill in the land. All that clearing out was palatable when Michael or Magic was taking fodder to the hoop, but now it’s rampant and unattractive.
The rule changes are not the solution, just as baggy clothes are not the fitness answer on an overweight man. It’s not the cosmetics that need changing, but the core product. Quit adding franchises, perhaps trim the season and stop letting 18-year-old boys into the league.
Let’s start there.
Sports editor Jason Gallic at 245-3681 or mailto:kauaisports@pulitzer.net
