Another NBA All-Star Game has come and gone, and it was once again an uninspiring Sunday night. The game, once the crown jewel of All-Star Weekend, was a dud despite expectations that the league was going to fix it.

NBA commissioner Adam Silver said as much on the eve of the game itself. He discussed the changes the league made to make the game more competitive — welcome back, East vs. West! – the efforts it took to figure it out with the players, all the nuances of the wait times for introductions and halftime. All of it.

“I think we’re going to see a good game tomorrow night,” Silver said.

Then he, and we, got a 211-186 East win. It was the first time in league history that the winning team surpassed 200 points.

The All-Star Game remains unfixed. Now the question turns toward how to actually do that. Can it be done at all? Somebody has to solve the NBA’s All-Star Game malaise. Why not us?

The Athletic asked members of its NBA staff one question: “What can be done to fix the All-Star Game?” Here’s what some of them said:

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Joe Vardon, senior writer: Combine the In-Season Tournament (IST) and All-Star Weekend. Expand the IST a little, put a little more money into it (for IST and for All-Star Saturday participants), move the IST back a little so that the final four lands at the actual season’s midpoint, celebrate your All-Stars with a nice little ceremony that weekend, have an All-Star Saturday night in between final four and finals and then the entire league takes a week off.

Mike Vorkunov, NBA/Business of Basketball writer: What if the NBA still picked 12 All-Stars from each conference but eliminated the game and made each of them have to pick one of the All-Star Saturday Night events to compete in? Cancel the game but save the Slam Dunk Contest.

Sam Amick, senior writer: Here’s the problem with the idea of an All-Star Game bonus (bigger than the $100,000 they already get for winning), losers get $25,000, and the comparison to the IST: The $500,000 IST prize is big enough to matter to lower-level players, and we saw All-Stars who make $30 million-plus a year decide to care in large part because their teammates who make so much less had a chance to make impactful cash. But in an All-Star Game, where they all make so much already, what the hell kind of number would it take to have a similar effect on the competitiveness? Seriously, are we talking about an extra $5 million to $10 million per guy? The optics of that would be rough, not to mention counterproductive from a business standpoint for the league. It would be nice if players would just take it seriously for the sake of honoring those who paved the way, but it’s pretty clear that’s not going to happen. And from what I heard after the game, there was no shortage of former players who were rolling their eyes at what they had just watched.

John Hollinger, senior columnist: I’m not sure the money was more than a secondary motivation for the IST. … Games all counted except the last one, and in the final, you’re understood to be playing a game that matters (to your owner/coach/fans/teammates, if not to you). The All-Star Game is just …. an exhibition.

Amick: Fair points, John, but they make the notion of more money being a possible solution even more challenging. And I make these points because, as I wrote overnight, that was the discussion among some of the players after the game (that a big prize would change how they play in the ASG).

Vorkunov: Why is the All-Star Game worth saving? It worked for a number of years, and now it doesn’t. If the NBA is about innovation, then it should try to find a new way to service fans. Maybe move the skills challenge/3-point contest and dunk contests to Sunday and incentivize its biggest stars to actually compete in them. That diminishes the chances of getting hurt (which is ostensibly a reason they don’t try in the ASG now). Replace Saturday night with something else. Or keep Saturday night as is and find new one-on-one competitions for Sunday that might get fans interested. Sabrina Ionescu vs. Stephen Curry was the coolest part of the whole weekend; put that and future iterations of that idea on Sunday instead. The whole thing is a marketing roadshow anyway.

Jon Greenberg, Chicago-based columnist: How about changing the slogan to “If You Don’t Like It, Don’t Watch?” The only real solution is for the players to care again. None of the other gimmicks will work. The draft sounded fun on Twitter, but ultimately, it was detrimental to the product and scrapped. Here’s an interesting thought exercise: Which NBA stars actually hate (or dislike, even just in a competitive sense) other stars? Who out there NEEDS to win at all costs against his peers? Those are the only guys who can “save” the game because they could set the tone for the rest. Most of the players probably don’t care because they see it as marketing/entertainment fluff, and that’s probably not going to change going forward, especially as the younger players have grown up with this kind of All-Star effort. In reality, the game will go on, people can just complain about it and the NBA Takes Economy will keep churning. My only real suggestions are: Go back to making cool uniforms and have Common do the intros every year.

OK, one more idea: Everyone talks about upping the prize money, but what if the losing players had to pay the prize money to the winners? Does that do anything for you?

Amick: You’re right, Jon. Making all those changes, and then going back to the original format only to have it go so poorly, is not a great look. There’s this part too: With the league trying to maximize leverage during this time of crucial media-rights negotiations, it’s more important than ever for the tentpole events to go well. The IST was a win, in that regard, even if the ratings weren’t what they had hoped for. But this, it’s safe to say, was a setback on that front. In case you wondered why Silver looked so displeased after the game…

Jason Lloyd, Cleveland-based columnist: It’s always about the stars in the NBA. The tentpoles of the league. LeBron James doesn’t care as much about competing in All-Star games anymore. If he did, everyone else would fall in line (like they did with IST). These guys can say whatever they want at the podium, but if LeBron, Kevin Durant and Curry actually guarded and competed, I guarantee you Tyrese Halliburton and Jayson Tatum and the rest would fall in line. For all the good Silver has done, I think he lets the players run all over him. A large number of NFL guys really dislike Roger Goodell, and while I’m not trying to defend him, the product has never been stronger. It feels like Silver bends to the players on everything. And I think the product has at times suffered for it.

Zach Harper, staff writer/The Bounce: This is what happens when your commissioner is obsessed with being friends with the players.

Vorkunov: Sam, I agree about the media-rights aspect. Basically everything around the NBA seems to be in a stasis until that gets settled. Silver said any tweaks to the In-Season Tournament are on hold until he talks to potential media partners about what might work for them; maybe he’ll have the same talks about this event too.

I wonder if the big change might be trying a U.S. vs. The World model. Roll it out after the Olympics. The very best players in the world are no longer American-born. Nikola Jokić, Giannis Antetokounmpo, Joel Embiid and Luka Dončić are annually the top finishers in the MVP voting. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander has a case this year. It could make for an interesting game, and fans and players are usually more rapt with interest whenever you wrap the flag around something. But there will also be issues involved with this format, from how the rosters get filled out to who gets to be an All-Star, and those would have to be parsed out carefully.

The big issue is how to make up the rosters. There were just five non-U.S. born All-Stars this year. Where do those seven other All-Stars come from? Do you still name 24 All-Stars combined between the two conferences but create the U.S. and World teams differently? It’s harder to figure out those logistics.

Amick: I love that concept, in a vacuum. But the historical significance of overhauling how All-Stars get picked, I think, would make it a no-go from the league’s side of things. The makeup of the league’s elite talent works well for that concept right now, but that becomes a major problem when that’s no longer the case.

Harper: This is also a product of parity — which Silver has been trying to create for a decade. And it’s also a product of the 65-game rule. Players going all out or even half out for this exhibition actually could cost them something if injury happens. I’m not saying it’s right, but I get why you’d approach this as just having fun and not risking anything serious.

Jeff Maillet, senior editor: Create a two-on-two or three-on-three, half-court tournament format with prize money and eliminate the Sunday game. The leading vote-getters could pick their teams, and the games would be short: Eight minutes with a running clock or the first to a designated score (11 or 15 points). You’d think a more open floor would reduce any concerns related to contact injuries because there are fewer players.

I have two 10-year-old basketball-playing daughters who wouldn’t watch an NBA All-Star Game if I paid them. But their eyes were glued to the television during the skills competition (it was probably the new LED floor!). Keep it, add more WNBA players and make it more difficult. Create an improved obstacle course with the floor guiding players better and with more challenging shots (a behind-the-basket shot, one from a fan’s seat in the lower bowl that gets randomly chosen, etc.) and drills.

Eric Nehm, Bucks writer: This may be small, but if you want the NBA All-Star Game to be a game that matters, treat it like a game that matters.

NBA players are maniacal about their routines. From my perspective as the Milwaukee Bucks beat writer, I know Giannis Antetokounmpo does the same thing before every game. He gets on the floor two hours before, works out for 15-20 minutes, watches film, throws on some leg sleeves, meditates, does the pregame meeting and then comes out for warmups. It’s the same for every other player in that game. Curry’s pregame is famous at this point. Same things for Durant and countless other players.

On Sunday, Antetokounmpo got on the floor 90 minutes before the game, and he wasn’t supposed to touch a basketball. Instead, he was supposed to stand still and listen to instructions during the rehearsal for the Eastern Conference team’s pregame introductions.

If you want the players to compete at a high level, you have to give them the space to compete.

David Aldridge, senior columnist: I understand the “optics” of using money to induce greater effort may turn off some viewers. I think many, many more are turned off by the crap effort displayed in the last few years. I don’t recall much blowback from the IST because money got guys to care a little more about regular-season games. People just remember seeing LeBron take charges and Haliburton blowing up. This is a different era – one in which players are getting $40 million and $50 million per year (which, by the way, is fine with me). Money is pretty much the only thing that gets their attention. (And, he notes parenthetically, money is pretty much the only thing that gets the attention of a lot of people who watch TV, if the reality TV era is any indication.)

I have advocated for almost two decades that the NBA lean in on its top 10 or so corporate partners and induce two of them, once each in a five-year period, to put up $5 million. The NBA would put up $2 million, for a total purse of $12 million, or $1 million per player. Then, take a briefcase with a check for $12 million in it (or, a bag with an actual $ sign on it) to midcourt before the tip. Have Michael Buffer (or, I guess, now, Buffer’s kid) announce that this is winner take all. I think you’d solve at least some of the effort issues.

Obviously, you couldn’t do this every year. I get that. I’m just saying to try it for a while and see what the results are. This isn’t the Treaty of Ghent. It’s an All-Star Game. You can do whatever you need to do to make sure, as (I think, Mike) noted, that this tentpole programming for TNT and the league doesn’t go the way of the NFL’s Pro Bowl.

Or, another idea: If you fall on the side of, “This is all entertainment, so no one cares about competition,” then get rid of the competition altogether. Lean all the way into entertainment.

Keep All-Star Friday and Saturday as is but have a two-hour concert on All-Star Sunday. You can announce/introduce the players who were picked as All-Stars, and they’d all have to come wherever the weekend is. But why not try to take some of the momentum the NFL creates with its halftime show? (I already have a tagline: “Fifteen minutes just isn’t enough.”) The NBA has incredible relationships with the entertainment industry, from Irving Azoff and Jay-Z to Lil’ Wayne and Dr. Dre. Why can’t the NBA promote “The All-Star Concert at the Sphere, starring U2?” Or, Mary J. Blige at United Center? Or Bruce Springsteen at the Garden? Or … one of these two.

As for U.S. vs. the World: In theory, yes, that could be really competitive. There’s certainly enough talent to go around to put two outstanding teams together, and at least along the margins, you’d think it would goose the players to play a little harder. But what if the international team brings the juice while the U.S. guys go through the motions – and the World team smacks the U.S. around by 20 or 30? I don’t think the NBA wants, “Our guys got smashed, and they don’t give a damn,” hot takes coming out of one of its signature events.

Oh, one more idea (This is what happens when you sit in an airport for four hours.): Part of the All-Star problem, too, is that the crowd that attends the game is, to be blunt, terrible. Cheering is nearly non-existent. It’s all corporate sponsors and their families and celebrities and influencers and politicians – and very, very few actual basketball fans. A lot of people come to be seen, not to get loud. There are few fans from the host city, other than a few hundred each year whom the league brings in to highlight local charities and civic organizations.

Again, it’s a long shot, but real problems require real changes. Why not have a lottery or giveaway or however the league wants to do it for a large chunk of seats throughout the building – like, 5,000 or so – that would go to actual basketball fans from the host city? (This would also help team owners, who are inundated every year by angry season-ticket holders from the host team’s city who can’t get All-Star Weekend tickets or can only get seats up in the nosebleeds.)

Willy Wonka this sucker. Put “Golden Tickets” in game programs during the first half of the season – limit it to four per person – and have 100 people or so every home game, from the 400 level to courtside, get the good news. Or have an essay contest for the local elementary, middle and high schools, with the winning school getting 500 seats. Just get people with actual lung capacity in the building.

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(Top photo: Justin Casterline / Getty Images)

Growing up in Spain, Ricky Rubio had a decision to make. At just 10, he showed promise as an athlete and was asked to choose between basketball and soccer.

“The real football,” he said.

He was a good soccer player, and the popularity of the sport in his country compelled him to throw everything into it. That lasted for about a month.

Rubio could not ignore a connection to basketball that ran deep. His father was a basketball coach. His older brother was an accomplished player. But more than family ties called to him. The rhythm of the game, the metronomic beat created by the ball bouncing on the hardwood, was music to his ears. The angles and geometry needed to excel created equations he reveled in solving.

“I decided I miss basketball too much. It’s something that was inside of me,” he said. “Nobody pushed me to play basketball. It’s just a sport that I fell in love with because of how complex it is in all single details in the game.”

Those early, innocent days birthed a career that included Olympic medals, a World Cup title and MVP award and a 12-year NBA career that ended earlier in January when he announced his retirement from the Cleveland Cavaliers.

Rubio also paid a price during almost two decades in the spotlight. As a 14-year-old prodigy in Spain, he gave his youth to the game in his eagerness to get his career started. He shouldered the pressure that comes with being a much-hyped prospect and endured several major injuries throughout his NBA career that challenged him mentally and physically to such a degree that he could not muster a 13th season in the NBA.

Rubio’s decision to retire came four months after he announced he was stepping away to address his mental health. He alluded to July 30 being “one of the toughest nights of my life” and said the feeling of losing control prompted him to end his career.

For a player who won over fans, coaches and teammates with his charming, relentlessly positive personality in the locker room and his dazzling unselfishness on the court, Rubio’s revelation was concerning for so many who connected with him. To hear Rubio tell it now, his love for the game and playing it was always pure, but his hakuna matata exterior masked an underlying anguish that was tormenting him.

“I’ve always been that guy trying to be positive,” Rubio said in a telephone interview from his home in Spain. “But sometimes it was me lying to myself, saying, ‘Don’t feel that way’ because it might stop you. … Eventually, if you lie to yourself, it can catch up in a wrong way, like what happened to me. So be true to yourself.”

He is not yet ready to make public the exact nature of his struggles. His wounds are healing, but there is still work he is doing to climb out of the hole he was in. What he can say right now is just how deep in the hole he was.

“I have goose bumps thinking about those days when everything was dark,” Rubio said. “I had something clouding my mind that I couldn’t get over. Now I’m doing much better with the help that I needed and building myself from inside-out instead of outside-in.”

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It was clear from a young age that the game coursed through his veins. He showed enough promise to suit up for DKV Joventut as a 14-year-old in 2005, becoming the youngest ever to play in a Spanish ACB League game.

He was named FIBA Europe Young Player of the Year in 2007, ’08 and ’09. His vision and passing made him a crowd favorite and his family worked hard to protect him from the attention at such a young age.

“It came so fast and so natural that I couldn’t even think (do) I want to be a professional,” Rubio said. “It was, I am a professional.”

He joined the Spanish national team for the 2008 Olympics and went global with his performance against Team USA in the gold medal game in Beijing. The Spaniards pushed the Redeem Team, led by Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, Chris Paul and Carmelo Anthony. Their 17-year-old point guard didn’t back down an inch.

“I was fearless and I didn’t know the wrong side, I would say,” Rubio said. “I always thought about good things and I enjoyed that final.”

His numbers didn’t leap out. Six points, six rebounds, three assists. But as the game wore on, it was clear that this teenager was one of his country’s most important players. Spain fell 118-107 with Wade and Bryant leading the Americans’ bounce back from a bronze medal finish in Athens in 2004.

But the performance put Rubio on the map. Shortly after the game, he needed surgery on his right wrist because of an injury he suffered, but the rush he felt of competing against players he watched on television as a boy masked any pain during the game itself.

“I was having so much fun, I could have played with one leg,” he said.

Rubio and Spain went on to win the gold medal at EuroBasket in 2009. Ten years later, he earned MVP honors as he led Spain to the FIBA World Cup championship. Those teams were Rubio’s favorite, a brotherhood with the likes of Pau and Marc Gasol, Rudy Fernandez, Juan Carlos Navarro and Juancho and Willy Hernangomez. His affection and respect for those men helped hone his approach to the game as he evolved from one of the first real YouTube sensations into a true floor general.

As Rubio prepared for the 2009 NBA Draft, those grainy highlight reels were all that most fans had to get an idea of what this floppy-haired passing savant was all about. His workouts with NBA teams leading up to the draft were shrouded in mystery. When he was chosen fifth by the Minnesota Timberwolves, he was asked in his first interview off of the stage to what player he would compare himself.

“I’m Ricky Rubio,” he said. “I’m not like anybody else.”

That became a mantra of sorts that followed Rubio to the Twin Cities, a philosophy that focused on avoiding comparisons and staying true to one’s self. Fifteen years later, Rubio says that deep down inside, adhering to that credo was much more difficult than he made it look.

“I wish I could have lived by those words. I have tried,” Rubio said.

The celebration on draft night was muted because of the uncertainty surrounding his contract situation in Spain. His contract with Joventut called for a buyout of more than $6.5 million to secure his release. The Timberwolves were only allowed to pay $500,000, so Rubio remained in Spain for two more seasons.

He was traded from Joventut to Regal Barcelona in 2009, and Rubio remembers being booed by Joventut fans when he came back to play there, a stinging reaction to something beyond his control that gave him an early glimpse into the more cutthroat side of the game.

“It has been kind of forgotten because I didn’t want to believe that feeling,” Rubio said. “If I would have believed that feeling, it would have destroyed me. I was 18 years old, and it was super huge for me. And then I realized it was a business.”

So began Rubio’s efforts to not let the outside world know what was happening underneath his boyish smile and enthusiastic nature.

“Maybe because I’m a super sentimental person, but I had to hide my feelings from me sometimes (so I) don’t feel it and it doesn’t stop me from performing at a high level,” he said.

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After two years with Barcelona, the buyout finally reached a manageable figure to allow Rubio to come to the NBA.

On June 20, 2011, he arrived with his family at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. When he walked into the baggage claim area, more than 100 fans, team employees and cheerleaders were waiting for him.

“I felt like a rock star,” he said. “I didn’t want any of the spotlight, to be honest. But I wasn’t complaining. It felt great.”

When he finally hit the court at Target Center, it was pure electricity. Teaming with a young All-Star in Kevin Love and playing under an accomplished head coach in Rick Adelman, Rubio burst onto the NBA scene. He threw passes from angles only he could see and teammates would be shocked when the ball found its way into their hands for an easy dunk or wide-open jumper.

In an era where scoring point guards such as Derrick Rose, Russell Westbrook and Deron Williams were becoming the norm, Rubio made passing cool again. Behind the back, no-look, on the run, lobs from beyond half court, anything was on the table.

“That was pure Ricky,” he said. “It wasn’t something disrespectful to the other team. It was more something to have fun with the game. I’m always trying to be respectful with everybody. But at the same time, I like to have fun on a basketball court.”

Behind Rubio’s joyous orchestration and Love’s scoring and rebounding, the Timberwolves were 21-19 and chasing down their first playoff appearance since 2004 when they played the Los Angeles Lakers on March 9, 2012. They led 102-101 with 17 seconds to play when Bryant collided with Rubio’s knee, and Rubio crumpled to the court. The arena has never been so quiet. He tore the ACL in his left knee, an injury that started the Wolves on a downward spiral and changed the course of his career.

“I felt, at one point, invincible,” he said. “Then that injury happened and I said that it won’t affect me. I will come back. I won’t say I was innocent, but I was not thinking that I could fail.”

Rubio missed the first six weeks of his second season while completing his rehab, and it took him another six weeks to start playing up to his expectations. The Rubio who returned from that injury was a more careful player, more deliberate in his passing and less prone to taking risks. He would eventually return to a starting-caliber point guard with some exceptional moments, but he never quite recaptured the magic of that rookie season.

“I always think about that day that I got hurt and what could have happened,” Rubio said. “Everything happens for a reason. And sometimes I think about it. But I was having so much fun that season, I couldn’t believe it.”

Just days before the 2015-16 season began, Timberwolves president of basketball operations Flip Saunders, who developed a close bond with Rubio, died suddenly from Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Rubio lost his mother, Tona, to lung cancer in 2016, a death so devastating that he considered retirement. He tried to keep his chin up while enduring the pain, but it was exhausting.

“I had to perform, I had to play basketball. And that’s what I’m here for. And it’s something that I don’t regret because things worked in a really good way for me,” Rubio said. “But at the same time, I wish I would have been more honest with myself.”

He spent one more season (2016-17) in Minnesota, but he never got on the same page as coach Tom Thibodeau and was traded to Utah before the 2017 draft.

“Looking back in the 12 years of my career, of course, your first time it’s always great. A rookie season is special,” Rubio said. “But that was something really, really special for me, and I think for Minnesota as well.”

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The transition to Utah was comfortable for Rubio, who saw similarities to Minnesota in terms of the mid-sized market and quality of life away from the court. He took quickly to the Jazz organization, a tradition-rich franchise that treated its players well and had a standard of expectations that he wasn’t used to in Minnesota.

The Jazz won 48 games in Rubio’s first season there, giving him his first taste of the playoffs in his seventh season in the league. The Jazz beat the Oklahoma City Thunder in the first round, and Rubio thoroughly outplayed Westbrook in the series, averaging 14.0 points, 7.3 rebounds, 7.0 assists and 1.3 steals.

“That was my biggest challenge in the NBA,” Rubio said. “I never took it personally. I always thought about the team and how we could beat them as a team.”

While in Utah, Rubio teamed up with the A Breath of Hope Lung Foundation to raise money for cancer research in honor of his mother. He was active in the community and appreciative of the Utah fans’ basketball knowledge and passion.

“I feel like the fans are a part of the game as well,” he said. “I always try to leave an impact in the community that I play for just because we’re so grateful that we have to be a good role model for a lot of kids growing up and watching us play. We have to use our celebrity to our advantage, that they listen to us more than a teacher or a parent sometimes.”

Rubio spent two seasons in Utah before signing with the rebuilding Phoenix Suns as a free agent in 2019. He spent a year in Phoenix, where he and his wife, Sara, welcomed their son, Liam, into the family and then spent the ill-fated 2020-21 season back in Minnesota, where a heartwarming reunion was short-circuited by the pandemic.

The Timberwolves traded Rubio to Cleveland in the 2021 offseason. After initially having reservations about joining another young team that did not figure to contend right away, he was quickly won over by the Cavaliers. He scored 37 points in a win in Madison Square Garden early in the season and averaged a career-high 13.1 points per game off the bench for a Cavs team that exceeded expectations.

After years of searching for the vibes of that rookie season in Minnesota, Rubio finally started to feel that tingle of invincibility again.

“I reached a point where everything was in a perfect situation. Me being in a team that they need me to perform at a high level, at my prime physically and mentally,” Rubio said. “It was the best I felt.”

That made what happened in New Orleans on Dec. 28, 2021, all the more devastating. The Cavs were down two in the final 2 minutes, 30 seconds of the game when Rubio took a shovel pass from Love and drove down the lane. As Pelicans center Jonas Valančiūnas slid over to stop the penetration, Rubio planted with his left leg and slipped a pass to Evan Mobley. His left knee, the same one he injured in 2012, buckled.

A day after the injury, with an outpouring of sympathy directed toward one of the league’s most well-liked players, Rubio again projected positivity. He posted a video of Bryant urging to “always keep going.”

“What I’ve come to find out,” Bryant said, “is that, no matter what happens, the storm eventually ends.”

It took Rubio more than a year to come back from that injury, but in some ways, his storm is still going.

“I still think I’m not over it, to be honest with you,” Rubio said. “I lost a lot of confidence on why things always worked in that way where I was having a good season with everything in place and, after all the storms that I have been through, and you give me that now?”

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The Cavaliers’ season ended in April with a disappointing 4-1 loss to the Knicks in the first round of the playoffs. Rubio returned to Spain and was met face-to-face by the demons that had been whispering in his ears for years. In his NBA retirement announcement, he said that July 30 “was one of the toughest nights of my life. My mind went to a dark place.”

Rubio had dealt with depression in the past, but he could identify the root cause when his mother passed away. This time was not so straightforward. Yes, the injury was deflating, but he did not believe that was a “major, significant event that caused me that. It’s been small, little things that have been building from the past and eventually catches up.”

All these years later, Rubio wonders if starting so young was the best thing for him, especially if the stressors that started at 14 and accumulated across two decades prevented his one chance at being a kid.

“It’s tough and it’s hard to do because you only have one chance, probably, sometimes in life,” he said. “If you don’t jump on that train, you don’t know what would have happened. But I wish I would have enjoyed more that early stage of my life.”

Maybe that’s why that boyish charm was so evident in his early days in the NBA, the kid inside of him trying to burst out of the fishbowl created by entering the professional realm so young. Eventually, basketball became one of the main things in his life that was holding him back and not giving him joy.

He was stateside because of basketball while his mother was being treated for cancer. He had to leave his wife and newborn son just a few days after he was born to go on the road with the Suns.

Through every bit of adversity, Rubio tried to tell himself, and the world around him, “never too high, never too low.” The conflict inside him finally became too much to bear.

“I was lost. I didn’t know who I was. I had to rebuild myself,” he said. “I think eventually a lot of people have that point in their life that has to rebuild them because they have lost the focus on the purpose of their life. Luckily, I stopped it in time.”

Rubio was surrounded by family, friends, former teammates and basketball people who offered support and well wishes. He started to get help to address what he was going through and has, gradually, started to come out of the fog.

“I know I’m not alone. So I feel like when you speak out, people relate to you,” he said. “We’re human beings, we go through the same things in a different context. Lean on each other, lean on who you love. It’s been a tough process, I’m not going to lie.”

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In the wake of the retirement, teammates from every stop have praised Rubio for his abilities on the court, but even more for the teammate and friend he was off of it.

“I’m gonna miss him on the court, but he’s a friend forever,” Devin Booker told reporters in Phoenix. “Even though it was just one year, it was so impactful to my career.”

“That’s my championship, I’ll say,” Rubio said. “I’d rather be seen as a good person than a great player. At the end of the day, what people will remember is who you are and how you make them feel, not because you play good basketball or bad.”

As he has pulled himself back together, he has found peace and contentment away from the game. This was the first Christmas since 2011 that he could be at home in Spain with his family.

“Things in life change, but you’re trying to build memories,” Rubio said. “This year was one of the traditions that I always put aside because of basketball. Finally, I could do it.”

Little by little, Rubio is finding himself again. The personal improvement he has made in recent weeks only validates his decision to bring an end to his NBA career.

“Sometimes I wish I could have had a better NBA career,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I would’ve had a championship. Sometimes I think about my career, but at the end of the day, I had a lot of fun. I enjoyed it.

“Was there bad times? Of course. This is not a perfect story. But I learned a lot, I made a lot of friends through this process and I grew up a lot. I enjoyed basketball a lot.”

While his NBA days are over, Rubio has not ruled out a return to the court in Europe. With his mind clearer, he began to think about how his body would feel if he laced up the sneakers again. For all of his trials in the game, he is not ready to say his playing days are completely done.

“I hope not,” he said. “Eventually I want to try it out since I’m doing better, but I’m sure it will be a different me. I will put myself first. I’m still in the recovery process of a big shock, but I know basketball is a big part of who I am.”

(Illustration: John Bradford / The Athletic; photos: Christian Petersen, Streeter Lecka / Getty Images)

Elk jaar in augustus, nadat de NBA het speelschema voor het komende seizoen heeft bekendgemaakt, denkt Michael McCullough, Chief Marketing Officer van Miami Heat, na over de volgende 82 wedstrijden. Hij houdt zich niet alleen bezig met de kaartverkoop en promoties, maar plant ook een afspraak met de materiaalmanager van het team en concentreert zich op een essentieel onderdeel van zijn werk: uniformen.

Het uitdelen van de juiste truien was vroeger in de NBA een gemakkelijke oefening. Er waren slechts twee keuzes. Toen Rob Pimental, de uitrustingsmanager en reiscoördinator van de Heat, in de jaren tachtig zijn carrière begon bij de Sacramento Kings, was het alleen maar wit en blauw: witte truien thuis, donkere onderweg. Wat je moest dragen vereiste geen gesprek.

Tegenwoordig zijn er veel vergaderingen nodig. Het is een van de belangrijkste keuzes geworden die een franchise elk seizoen kan maken. In de afgelopen zes jaar zijn truien niet alleen uitgegroeid tot merchandise, maar ook tot onderdeel van een heel marketingensemble, een diadeem van de commerciële onderneming van dat jaar.

Jerseys waren ooit gebonden aan conventies – niet altijd constant, maar op zijn minst consistent in kleur en plaats – maar ze veranderen nu voortdurend. Esthetisch gezien ziet de NBA er van jaar tot jaar anders uit, omdat ze elk seizoen nieuwe uniformen introduceert. Het is opwindend of vermoeiend, afhankelijk van aan wie je het vraagt. De competitie stuit op grootse ideeën achter de creativiteit van haar teams, of ze vlucht voor de conventies en verwatert haar legendarische merken.

Het verhaal van de omschakeling van de competitie kan verteld worden aan de hand van de erosie van één oude steunpilaar: de witte thuistrui. Decennia lang was dit een NBA-hoofdbestanddeel. Nu wordt het steeds zeldzamer.

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Het proces om truien te kiezen voor elk van de 1.230 NBA-wedstrijden per seizoen lijkt eenvoudig: de thuisploeg kiest eerst zijn uniform en de wegploeg kiest daarna. Maar het is verschrikkelijk ingewikkeld. Wat vroeger vooral een binaire beslissingsboom was, is nu complex.

In zekere zin begint het jaren van tevoren. Teams beginnen twee seizoenen vóór hun debuut met het ontwerpen van hun nieuwste City Edition-truien met Nike.

“Het lijkt in veel opzichten op een legpuzzel”, zei McCullough.

De make-over begon in het seizoen 2017-2018, toen Nike de uniform- en kledingactiviteiten van de NBA overnam. Teams hadden de competitie af en toe gevraagd om af te stappen van de gebruikelijke uniformsplitsing om nieuwe alternatieve truien te introduceren of onder de aandacht te brengen. Deze trend begon eind jaren negentig en is sindsdien stapsgewijs toegenomen.

Toch hadden teams hiervoor toestemming van de competitie nodig. Nike introduceerde een systeem met vier uniformen: de Association, een witte trui; de Icon, een donkere trui; de Verklaring, een alternatieve trui; en de City Edition, die jaarlijks verandert en geen vast kleurenschema heeft. Sommige teams hebben een Klassieke jersey ook.

De NBA stroomlijnde het proces. Christopher Arena, hoofd van on-court en brand partnerships voor de NBA, hield een Excel-spreadsheet bij van de uniforme beslissing van elk team voor elke wedstrijd, waarbij hij af en toe op jacht ging naar hun keuze of een ander team belde om zijn keuze aan te passen om een ​​beslissing te voorkomen. kleur botsing. Toen moderniseerde de NBA. Het debuteerde NBA LockerVisioneen digitale database waarin teams hun uniformen inloggen weken nadat het speelschema is vrijgegeven.

Er zijn regels over hoe vaak een franchise elke trui moet dragen: Association en Icon moeten minstens 10 keer per seizoen worden gedragen, Statement zes keer, City Edition en Classic drie keer. Er zijn vangrails tegen kleuren die te nauw bij elkaar passen, hoewel niet alle incidenten zijn vermeden. Nadat Oklahoma City Thunder en Atlanta Hawks tegen elkaar speelden bijna bijpassende rood/oranje tinten in 2021verbood de competitie teams verder om truien te kiezen die te veel op elkaar leken.

Dat zette de reguliere volgorde op zijn kop. Waar vroeger thuis regelmatig witte truien werden gedragen, zie je ze nu vaker op de weg. Die marketingbijeenkomsten in augustus zijn een gelegenheid om de beste tijden vast te leggen om te pronken met de nieuwste City Edition-trui.

Er zijn maar weinig teams die zoveel naar voren hebben geleund als de Miami Heat. In sommige opzichten worden ze nog steeds door de traditie overgenomen. De rood-zwarte trui van Miami is al tientallen jaren vrijwel onveranderd. Elk voorjaar brengt Miami zijn jaarlijkse “White Hot-campagnedat bestaat sinds 2006. De organisatie draagt ​​thuis tijdens de play-offs haar witte uniformen en vraagt ​​fans om ook wit te dragen.

“Dat maakt deel uit van de hele sportgeschiedenis, die traditie”, zei McCullough. “Ik denk dat er in de sport ruimte is om nieuwe tradities te creëren. Ik denk graag dat dat is wat we doen: andere mogelijkheden creëren voor mensen om een ​​andere relatie met hun team te hebben, rond wat de spelers dragen. En natuurlijk worden voor ons hele merchandise-lijnen uitgebreid om deze uniformen en deze tweede identiteit te ondersteunen. Het wordt gewoon een beetje wie je bent.”

Hoe veel die witte truien ook voor de organisatie betekenen, de Heat heeft de afgelopen jaren kunnen experimenteren en nieuwe ontwerpen en kleurenschema's kunnen introduceren. Wanneer McCullough elke zomer het nieuwe schema krijgt, begint hij zich de uitrolcampagne voor de nieuwste trui van dat jaar voor te stellen.

The Heat heeft een aantal van de meest levendige City Edition-truien van het afgelopen decennium gemaakt. Hun ‘Vice City’-truien waren een groot succes. De originelen waren wit; daaropvolgende edities zijn verschenen in blauwgal, fuchsia en zwart. Dit seizoen dragen ze zwarte truien met ‘HEAT Culture’ op de borst.

Het nieuwste HEAT City Edition-uniform is er

Gisteravond – exclusief om @KaseyaCenter — kaarthouders behoorden tot de eerste fans die het volledige exemplaar kochten #HEATCultuur verzameling.@MiamiHEAT // @AmericanAir pic.twitter.com/nbH08RmMlT

— Miami HEAT (@MiamiHEAT) 2 november 2023

Meestal dragen ze ze thuis. The Heat heeft deze City Edition-truien geprogrammeerd om 19 keer in Miami te dragen en slechts één keer onderweg. Hun verenigingsuniformen – of wat vroeger bekend stond als de thuisblanken – zullen 24 keer op de weg worden gedragen.

McCullough wil ervoor zorgen dat de City Edition-uniformen genoeg optredens krijgen in Miami om onder de Heat-fans te belanden. Hij wil dat de Heat ze rond de feestdagen draagt, als fans gaan winkelen. Hij wil een gunstige omgeving creëren om ermee te pronken en affiniteit voor hen op te bouwen.

'Je hebt een heel verhaal rond dit speciale uniform geweven dat je alleen thuis kunt doen,' zei hij. “Dat kun je onderweg niet doen.”

The Heat kan een hele campagne rond hun nieuwste truien bouwen door ze thuis te dragen. Ze onthulden in 2018/2019 een alternatief veld dat paste bij hun Vice City-truien en hebben er sindsdien elk seizoen één gehad. De franchise kan kiezen wanneer de truien worden gedragen als de wedstrijd in Miami plaatsvindt, zodat ze de juiste dagen kunnen prioriteren.

Het Vice City-ontwerp werd een eigen soort merk voor de franchise. Het kenteken van de Heat in de kleuren van Vice City is het op een na best verkochte kenteken in de staat, zei McCullough, en staat bovenaan onder alle professionele sportteams van Florida.

Het 5e en laatste VICE-uniform. #Vice versa @MiamiHEAT // @AmericanAir pic.twitter.com/cMju7UEtV3

— Miami HEAT (@MiamiHEAT) 1 december 2020

“Als je naar elke stoere auto in Zuid-Florida kijkt – en je weet dat er veel stoere auto's zijn – en ze hebben allemaal de Heat plate erop”, zei hij. “Het is gewoon een cool ogend bord. Ik weet zeker dat veel van die platen geen warmteventilatoren zijn. Het is gewoon een stoere kentekenplaat voor op je auto.”

Het is een symbool van de succesvolle inspanning van de Heat. De planning gaat organisatiebreed. McCullough onderzoekt Pimental en beschouwt hem als een onofficieel lid van de marketingstaf. Alle uniforme beslissingen worden door hem genomen.

De taak van Pimental is enorm. Telkens wanneer de Heat hun wegtruien kiest, moeten ze bedenken welke invloed dit op reizen zal hebben. Hij moest leren hoe hij opnieuw moest inpakken voor reizen nadat Nike het in 2017 overnam vanwege de nieuwe mogelijkheden.

Voor elke roadtrip brengt de Heat een spelset van elk uniform en een back-upset mee, evenals een paar losse onderdelen; dat zijn 40-45 uniformen in elke kleur. Als ze van plan zijn op reis twee verschillende uniformen te dragen, kunnen ze bijna 90 verschillende sets meenemen.

Dan is er al het andere: de warming-ups, de sneakers, de panty's, de sokken, de oefenuitrusting. In totaal zegt Pimental dat zijn team en het trainingspersoneel ongeveer 3.000 pond aan uitrusting meenemen op roadtrips.

Hij noemt het ‘een reizend circus’. Het is ver verwijderd van zijn begindagen in Sacramento, maar hij mist de eenvoud niet.

“Natuurlijk, misschien (er zijn) momenten dat je gefrustreerd raakt, maar ik denk dat het cool is om wat meer identiteit te hebben,” zei hij. “Ik denk niet dat er iets mis mee is. Modes veranderen, dingen veranderen. Je weet nooit of je thuis weer teruggaat naar witte uniformen. Het is leuk om verschillende dingen te zien.

“Vroeger zag je thuis alleen de witte uniformen. Nu krijg je de kans om alle uniformen te zien die we hebben.

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De NBA is niet de enige competitie die de witte thuistrui als kernprincipe heeft verlaten. NHL-franchises zijn in de geschiedenis van de competitie omgeslagen en zijn tijdens het seizoen 2003-2004 thuis weer hun donkere truien gaan dragen. De NFL laat het thuisteam zijn uniformen bepalen, en welke teams kies zelden meer voor wit. Zelfs de Los Angeles Lakers droegen thuis pas begin jaren 2000 wit.

NBA-teams begonnen thuis vaker alternatieve truien te verkopen in de tien jaar voordat Nike het overnam. Arena gelooft dat teams in 2017 hun witte truien thuis ongeveer 75 procent van de tijd droegen.

Nu is dat veel minder. De oude uniforme regels en verwachtingen gelden niet meer. Arena beschouwt dit niet als een algehele afstand doen van de competitienormen.

‘Het was al aan het eroderen’, zei hij. “We hebben er gewoon een paradigma omheen gezet. En nogmaals, eroderen gaat ervan uit dat wat het was enigszins perfect was, zoals een standbeeld, en dat het aan het eroderen was tot iets onvolmaakts. Ik zou zeggen dat het op weg was gebrekkig te worden, en we hebben het nu perfect gemaakt.

Het Association-shirt wordt dit seizoen met dezelfde frequentie gedragen als tijdens het seizoen 2017-2018, Nike's eerste jaar als kledingdistributeur, maar de kloof tussen thuis en op de weg is groot. Teams droegen hun Association-truien ongeveer 29 keer per seizoen in dat eerste seizoen onder Nike, en gemiddeld 17 thuiswedstrijden. Dit seizoen speelde het bondsshirt gemiddeld 29 wedstrijden per team, maar slechts ongeveer negen keer thuis.

Ongeveer 22 procent van alle wedstrijden dit seizoen zal bestaan ​​uit een match tussen twee teams, elk in een kleurentrui. Het is de bedoeling dat teams dit seizoen hun City Edition-truien ongeveer 14 keer zullen dragen, waarvan 11 thuis.

De regels die de competitie heeft opgesteld, maken sommige truien tot een skeletsleutel. De gouden Icon-trui van de Lakers kan met alles worden gecombineerd, zei Arena. Andere truien – zoals het geel van de Indiana Pacers, het oranje van de Thunder en het lichtblauw van de Memphis Grizzlies – zijn ook veelzijdig en hoeven niet alleen als contrapunt tegen wit te worden gedragen.

De NBA, zei Arena, is “hier meer door geobsedeerd dan je je kunt voorstellen.” Uniformen maken deel uit van zijn levenswerk en hij is al 26 jaar verbonden aan de competitie.

In die tijd heeft de competitie drastische veranderingen ondergaan, verschillende keren van uniformaanbieder gewisseld en een nieuwe reeks logo's en kleurenschema's zien verschijnen. Gedurende het grootste deel van die periode zijn sommige basisprincipes nooit veranderd, maar het dragen van witte truien thuis maakt geen deel meer uit van die basis.

“Ik weet niet dat we ooit zo standvastig willen zijn in regels en voorschriften, tradities en vooroordelen dat we niet naar buiten kunnen treden en naar onze teams en onze fans kunnen luisteren”, zei Arena. “Ik denk dat wat onze teams ons vertelden was dat onze fans deze verschillende tenues thuis wilden zien, en dat ze het misschien beu waren om hun team 41 wedstrijden lang elke wedstrijd in het wit te zien.

“Het voordeel, zou je kunnen zeggen, is dat ze de prachtige kleuren van de 29 andere teams zien binnenkomen. Ze kunnen het paars van de Lakers en het groen van de Celtics zien, enzovoort. Maar ze hebben hun team thuis nooit in hun kleuren zien dragen, wat een ongelooflijke dynamiek is om te zien.”

(Bovenste foto van Jimmy Butler: Isaac Baldizon / NBAE via Getty Images)

The dunk is basketball’s most lionized play. The most iconic ones are canonized, referenced fondly and often, debated for their merits and significance. The sport’s language has created so many names for it: jam, yam, slam, poster, stuff, hammer. It’s a unique club that only few on this world can join. It’s marvelous.

And it hurts like hell.

“Can you think of any other concept where your hand swings at something metal?” 11-year NBA veteran Austin Rivers asks. “It’ll probably hurt, yeah?”

When asked, players catalog the pain dunking has caused: broken nails; bent fingers; recent bruises; lasting scars; midair collisions; twisted necks; dangerous landings. Injuries that cost them games or even seasons.

Derrick Jones Jr., a former NBA All-Star Weekend dunk contest winner now with the Dallas Mavericks, points out two specific marks on his left wrist. Larry Nance Jr., another high flier in his ninth NBA season and third with the New Orleans Pelicans, recalls childhood memories of his father’s scarred arms from a 14-year NBA career that included winning the first-ever dunk contest in 1984. Dallas’ Josh Green remembers one pregame dunk that set his nerves afire.

“I remember thinking, ‘Why would I do this before a game,’” the 23-year-old Green says.

And yet still they dunk.

In the modern NBA, the dunk’s frequency has been increasing, going from 8,254 in the 2002-03 regular season to 11,664 last year. The rise is mostly due to the 3-point revolution and the increased spacing and cleaner driving lanes that come with it. But the league also has taller, more explosive athletes entering every year. With them come even more spectacular aerial feats, ones that enrapture fans and wow even the players who witness them.

What players think of the dunk, and the agony that can come with it, is ever changing. This isn’t some new trend. It’s just that the dunk, for all its allure and mystique, is the most visceral mark of a player’s maturation.

Basketball’s most exclusive club, one only entered 10 feet in the air, isn’t one that players can — or always want to — live in forever.

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When young basketball players first start dunking, they never want to stop.

“It makes you the guy,” Dennis Smith Jr. says.

Smith’s first in-game dunk was an off-the-backboard slam in a state title game when he was 13. His team was up big and his teammates were showing off. “Now it’s my turn,” the 26-year-old Brooklyn Nets guard recalls thinking. “I got one.” An in-game dunk is a status symbol he has never forgotten.

Willie Green, now the head coach of the New Orleans Pelicans after a 12-year NBA career, was told as a teenager that toe raises would help him reach above the rim. Every morning in the shower, he counted to 300 — rising onto the balls of his feet with each number until this club finally let him in.

“If you could dunk, people looked up to you, they glorified you,” Green says. “You felt like you got over a big hurdle in basketball. It was a huge step in basketball when I was able to dunk.”

Every player asked remembers how old they were when they first started. “You’re young, you’re bouncy,” Markieff Morris, 34, says. “You dunked so you could talk your s—.” It was the first thing youngsters like him did stepping into the gym, the last before they left.

“When you’re first dunking, your fingers are full of blood because of the (contact),” Philadelphia 76ers forward Nicolas Batum recalls. “But you get used to it. You have so much joy of dunking. You’re one of the few people in the world that can.”

Once players start dunking in games, it becomes even more addicting. “When you try to dunk on someone, you’re hyped up, you’re amped up,” the New York Knicks’ Donte DiVincenzo says. “You don’t feel any of that s—.” It’s the same as any adrenaline high. “It feels like energy,” 21-year-old Mavericks guard Jaden Hardy says. As the crowds grow bigger and the reactions reverberate louder, it’s even better.

Marques Johnson, a five-time NBA All-Star who retired in 1990, remembers one slam he had at age 15 in a summer league over a player who had just been drafted to the NBA. To dunk on him, to knock him to the ground, proved something.

“As a young player, if you can hang with guys on the next level,” he says, “it becomes that validation that you belong.”

Johnson, currently the Milwaukee Bucks’ television analyst, played collegiately for UCLA, where he was named the Naismith College Player of the Year in 1977, the first season the dunk was re-legalized in college basketball. “I really believe it’s a big reason why I won,” he says. “People ain’t seen a dunk in college basketball in 10 years.” Johnson, a hyperathletic 6-foot-7 forward, took up residence above the rim.

Once, he missed two weeks with a knee sprain after dunking on a teammate in practice and landing hard. As he lay on the ground in pain, he still remembers what his first question was.

“Did the dunk go in?”

“Yeah,” he was told. “You dunked on him.”

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Last season, Christian Wood rebounded his own miss and found an empty path to the rim. He dribbled once, planted both feet, hurled the ball through the rim — and then clutched his left hand as he ran back down the court.

Wood, who signed with the Los Angeles Lakers this summer after his one season with the Mavericks, finished the game but missed the next eight with a broken thumb. “I went for a tomahawk (dunk), trying to look flashy for some reason, and hit my thumb again,” he says. He had already injured it, he says, but that’s the moment when he knew he “had really hurt it.”

As teenagers age into veterans, their relationships toward dunking often change. “To really dunk consistently in the NBA, you gotta be a freak athlete.” Rivers says. For those who aren’t, dunking becomes more akin to a tool than a feat.

“S—, those things are really adding up,” the 26-year-old DiVincenzo says. “A lot of the younger guys want to dunk every single time. I am not like that anymore.”

DiVincenzo still dunks — he had nine last year with the Golden State Warriors — but prefers layups when possible. It isn’t always possible, though. “Sometimes, (a dunk) is the only way to draw fouls,” he says.

When Willie Green neared the end of his career, he recalls hating when defenders forced him into it.

“They’re chasing you down hard on a fast break, and you want to lay it up, but you know if you lay it up, they’re going to block it,” he says. “I’m like, ‘Man. You made me dunk that.’”

Green was a two-foot dunker, which meant accelerating into the air was hard on his knees, especially the left one, which was surgically repaired in 2005. “That force, that gravity, compounded with coming down,” he says. “It takes a toll on you.”

Smith, the ninth pick in the 2017 draft, entered the league with a record-tying 48-inch vertical — and with a dangerous habit of coming down on one leg. While recovering from knee surgery, he learned to land on both of them. “I don’t even think about it now,” he says. But he still does thoracic therapy to treat scar tissues in his wrist from his childhood dunks, which he believes has had an effect on his shooting form.

The league’s freak athletes, the ones Rivers referenced, do have different experiences. Nance Jr., who remembers his father’s forearm scars, has none of his own. His hands are large enough to engulf the ball rather than pinning it against his wrist. “I never really learned how to cup it like everybody else,” Nance says. “I genuinely don’t believe I could do it if I tried.” He drops the ball through the rim rather than relying on inertia.

“Not really,” he says when asked whether it hurts. “Unless I miss.”

Players like him still experience pain from the midair collisions and the misses: when the basketball hits the cylinder’s rear and sends shock waves through their arms; when an opponent’s desperate swipes hit flesh and nerve; when the crash of bodies sends theirs sprawling to the floor.

Anthony Edwards, another alien athlete, doesn’t even refer to what he does as dunking. “I don’t really dunk the ball,” he says. “I just put it in there the majority of the time.” Earlier this month, though, Edwards elevated over the Oklahoma City Thunder’s Jaylin Williams, nicked him on the shoulder and came crashing back down.

Though Edwards only missed two games with a hip injury, the Timberwolves’ rising star admitted he was “scared” and “nervous” in his first game upon returning. And even if missed dunks don’t injure him, there’s still pride.

As Edwards said of them last season: “Those hurt my soul.”

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Kyrie Irving had stolen the ball and was alone at the basket in a December game when he rose up to dunk in front of his own bench. His Dallas teammates had already risen up to celebrate — until they couldn’t.

“I mistimed it,” he says. “My momentum wasn’t there.” The ball grazed the front of the rim and fell out.

The 31-year-old Irving is known for every sort of highlight except dunking, of which he has only 25 in his 11-year career. But a flubbed dunk is embarrassing even for a player like him.

“You just feel bad!” he says. “We’re the best athletes in the world. I should be able to get up there once in a while.”

Later that quarter, the 6-foot-2 Irving had another chance at a wide-open fast break, at redemption. This time, he made sure to prove he could still do it.

“I had to double pump,” he says, laughing now. “I had to get up there, bro. I couldn’t come in the locker room to my teammates, coaching staff, upper management. They would’ve been on my head.”

Still, as players grow closer to retirement, they often hang up their dunking careers first.

Rivers, who remains a free agent after spending his 11th season with the Minnesota Timberwolves in 2022-23, recently retired from dunking. “I just prefer laying the ball up,” he said last year. “A dunk takes a lot out of me.” It was the hard landings that ultimately got him to stop, but he believes he became a better finisher once he made the decision.

It’s easier for veterans who never needed to play above the rim. Like, say, Stephen Curry, who seems amused he was asked about something he hasn’t done in a game since 2018.

“I had no problem letting that part of myself go,” the 6-foot-3 Curry says. “I very easily moved on to the next chapter of my career.”

Batum, a 35-year-old with 367 career dunks, also swore off contested dunks before last season. “My body told me,” he said. “It said, ‘No more, bro.’” Now he only dunks, gently with two hands, when he knows he’s alone at the rim.

“When you hit 32, the game isn’t about dunking anymore,” says Morris, now in his 13th NBA season. “It’s about longevity and still being able to play at a high level.”

Caron Butler wishes he had realized that sooner. When he was younger, Butler, who had two All-Star appearances before retiring to become a Miami Heat assistant coach, practiced as hard as he played.

“I overemphasized the two points I was getting to prove a point or show off my God-given ability,” he says. “It would have given me more longevity.”

Butler doesn’t have any regrets. But he thinks about the dunk differently now.

“It’s just two points.”

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It’s just two points.

“I’m listening to an old man talk,” Butler says. “That’s what 13-year-old Caron Butler would say. He would say, ‘I’m listening to a very old man talk about dunking.’”

He’s not the only retired player who sees the irony. Green thinks his younger self, the one who counted his toe raises in the shower, would feel similarly

“Thirteen-year-old me would really be disgusted right now,” he says.

But Green did dunk again earlier in 2023, a windmill slam in a January practice that had his players hollering in amazement. “They always tell me I can’t dunk,” he says. “I wanted to show them I had a little juice.” Green, the league’s fifth-youngest head coach, says that one of his coaching qualities is his relatability.

“When you’re asking high level professional athletes to do something, it helps for them to know that you’ve done it,” he says. “And it helps to know when they look at you that it looks like you still can do it.”

For others, it’s something that hearkens back to the past: to the adrenaline rush they first felt, to the validation it gave when their NBA careers were still dreams. Klay Thompson, perhaps this sport’s second-best shooter ever behind Curry, his Warriors teammate, says one of the best moments of his career was a dunk. After missing two consecutive seasons with major surgeries, in his first game back, he drove to the rim and slammed one. Thompson knew in that moment, he says, that the Warriors could still win another championship — and later that season, they did.

Thompson used to stroll onto the court and dunk as soon as his shoes were on. “Now, I need a good hour to get the gears greased and the motor working,” he says. As his body has changed, so too has his appreciation for what dunking means.

“It’s always an amazing feeling hanging on the rim that you can (forget) most people can’t do it,” he says. “I no longer take it for granted.”

It’s just two points for these club members, yes, but it’s more than that. For Johnson, the former Naismith College Player of the Year, dunking still means something special. Johnson turns 68 in February, and he plans to continue his personal tradition that began when he was 55: dunking on his birthday.

It’s motivation, Johnson explains, to stay in shape, which was inspired by his son, Josiah, who films it every year. It started becoming harder when Marques turned 60. “The first two attempts, I’m barely getting above the rim,” he says. It’s harder to palm the ball as his hands lose strength, and it usually takes until the fifth or sixth try before he succeeds.

Johnson, who had hip surgery this summer, doesn’t know if he will succeed next year. After all, he only attempts to dunk on his birthday, never in-between. “I know, eventually, I’m not going to be able to do it,” he says. But his recovery has gone well, and he feels good he’ll dunk once more next February.

He still remembers it, misses it.

“I remember them vividly: the excitement, the adrenaline rushing through your body,” he says. “So the dunk, as you can tell, has meant a whole lot to me.”

When asked what his younger self would think about hearing him talk about dunking now — this exclusive club he first joined as a 14-year-old wearing slacks and dress shoes, one that has represented pain and joy, aging and authenticity — Johnson instead chooses to turn the question around.

“I’d tell 16-year old me,” he says, “do it until the wheels come off.”

(Illustration by Rachel Orr / The Athletic. Photos of Derrick Jones Jr. (left) and Anthony Edwards (right): Amanda Loman and David Berding / Getty Images)

Last winter, NBA commissioner Adam Silver set out a checklist for the league’s top priorities. First, the NBA would need to strike an agreement with the NBPA on a new collective bargaining agreement, then it had to sign off on its next round of media-rights deals. Only then would it move its attention to a topic that has been bubbling to the surface over the last few years: expansion.

In April, the league and the union agreed to a new CBA. The NBA’s exclusive negotiating window with its current TV partners, Disney and Warner Bros. Discovery, begins in March but there is already rampant forecasting about what the media layout will look like in fall 2025, when this latest batch of contracts will kick in. The uncertainty about the NBA’s media-rights future, however, has not stopped speculation about expansion.

While the league loathes to talk about it in detail publicly, let alone commit to it, Silver has progressively come closer to saying expansion is coming. As the NBA hits Las Vegas this week for the final rounds of its inaugural In-Season Tournament, intrigue will only continue to ramp up as the league continues to dig in further in a potential new home market.

“It’s not a sure thing,” Silver said in July of expansion, “but as I’ve said before, I think it’s natural that organizations grow over time.”

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As the NBA has slowly inched forward, a class of interested parties have moved ahead too. A steady, if informal, buildup is already starting among prospective buyers for the next round of available expansion franchises to hit the market, based on conversations with nearly a dozen sports-investment banking and industry sources, who along with other sources in this story were granted anonymity so they could speak freely. One sports investment banker said he already has spoken to people who are assembling to buy an expansion franchise. Another longtime banker said he knows of three groups angling to get into the bidding process.

“Oh, yeah, people are lining up,” the first banker said. “They’re getting organized. How serious that is is a different story. You can only go so far … until the NBA starts a process.”

There is no process in place as of now. Silver has made that repeatedly clear. The new media-rights deals still await, and those will come first.

That would provide important certainty about the league’s revenue streams. The NBA crossed $10 billion in revenue during the 2021-22 season, and it averages roughly $2.7 billion per season on its current national TV deal. The next one could be worth twice as much, or more, in total annual value. Several sports investment bankers say the upcoming TV deal has been baked into recent franchise sale prices, with the valuations worth more than the standard revenue multiples that NBA teams sell for.

Yet, that has not stopped some from trying to plot out a timeline for expansion, or trying to ascertain how much a team would cost. Sports bankers have already begun evaluating when a transaction could occur, with several believing it could happen as soon as late 2024 or 2025. Even NBA front offices have begun thinking about expansion.

Silver, with his public pronouncements, has not created any reason for hesitation. In recent weeks, he has gone so far as to even name cities that have expressed interest in a team.

The NBA would need buy-in from its current group of owners for the league to expand, a cohort that has seen some changeover during the last few years. The Phoenix Suns, Charlotte Hornets and Milwaukee Bucks also have seen new control owners take over in 2023. The Minnesota Timberwolves are expected to change hands soon, once Marc Lore and Alex Rodriguez complete their purchase of 80 percent of the franchise with one more tranche of payments to Glen Taylor. The Dallas Mavericks will soon too, if the league approves the sale of the team to the Adelson and Dumont families, who have entered a binding agreement to purchase a majority stake from Mark Cuban. They would have to vote for or against expansion.

While expansion might be seen as a league issue, it is more acutely a personal issue for each owner. They would have to weigh several variables, not least of all their own financial interests. Wherever the next national media-rights deal lands, it, along with other league revenue streams, will be split in 30 directions. Would each owner be willing to see that annual cut diluted by two extra teams each year for the foreseeable future, while taking in their share of expansion fees? That choice might land in different places for different owners. That places an emphasis on two numbers — the revenue from the next media-rights deal and the value of the expansion fee — so owners could run their own discounted cash flow model to decide if it’s worth the short- and long-term trade-offs.

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Seattle and Las Vegas are believed to be the front-runners to land new NBA teams, and each city is considered to be a strong market. Silver has talked up Mexico City in recent years and said the league would be “looking seriously” at the city. He has also said Montreal and Vancouver have each shown interest in having an NBA team.

Mexico City could be intriguing as the NBA’s media ecosystem changes and it is no longer tethered to linear television. A franchise in Mexico could help spur sales in that country for any streaming network that buys a share of the NBA’s media rights. The league has already pointed to the success of the Capitanes, its G League franchise in Mexico City. The team announced that it set a franchise attendance record for its season opener with 16,178 fans at Arena CDMX, and its average per-game attendance is nearly double that of the next G League team, according to numbers shared by a league source. But there are still concerns about player security if a team lands there, as well as the currency exchange.

Las Vegas has grown into an NBA outpost even without its own team. The league holds NBA Summer League there every July, along with Team USA events, and held its G League Showcase there through last year. The Oak View Group, a prominent venue operator nationwide, intends to build an NBA-ready arena in Las Vegas and has acquired 66 acres there, with the intent to break ground next year and the hope that the development could be completed by 2026. The Las Vegas Review-Journal reported Tuesday that $3 billion in federal funding will go toward a high-speed rail from Los Angeles to Las Vegas — a project owned by Wes Edens, who controls the Bucks and a 110-acre plot next to the Oak View Group land.

Tim Leiweke, CEO of the Oak View Group, declined to offer more about the venture. “I never get ahead of commissioners,” he said.

LeBron James, for one, has been open about his desire to own an NBA team in Las Vegas. James is a partner in Fenway Sports Group, the company that already owns Liverpool F.C., the Boston Red Sox and the Pittsburgh Penguins. According to industry sources, FSG has expressed an interest in owning an NBA team, though there is currently no momentum toward that, and has explored buying an ownership stake in the Oak View Group building project. FSG sold a roughly $200 million stake in Liverpool in September to pay off debt and other projects.

Seattle has its own strong case. It’s the largest media market in the country without an NBA team after the SuperSonics moved to Oklahoma City to start the 2008-09 season. It is a hub of wealth and home to Amazon and Microsoft. It has already earned one expansion team in the last half-decade, the NHL’s Seattle Kraken, and its home venue, Climate Pledge Arena, is believed to be NBA-ready. The WNBA’s Seattle Storm already play at Climate Pledge Arena, which is operated by the Oak View Group. The Kraken’s CEO and part-owner, Tod Leiweke, also is the brother of Oak View Group CEO Tim Leiweke. David Bonderman, who owns the Kraken, is a Boston Celtics minority owner and his daughter, Samantha Holloway, now a Kraken co-owner, said last year that she wants to bring an NBA team to Seattle. Bonderman is the founding partner of TPG Capital, which just sold its majority stake in Collective Artists Agency for a reported $7 billion.

The city nearly drew an NBA team back in 2013 when a group led by hedge fund manager Chris Hansen almost bought the Sacramento Kings and tried to move them to the Pacific Northwest, but that effort was stopped. Hansen still owns a large tract of land in Seattle’s SoDo neighborhood. But the price of a team has gone up dramatically in the last decade, when Hansen’s group tried to buy the Kings at a $625 million valuation.

New franchises in both cities are expected to draw significant bids, if not record prices. One head of a sports private equity firm believes the bidding will begin at $4 billion, while others say it could be as much as $5 billion in the end, if not more.

“You got to find somebody to write that check,” the longtime sports banker said. “I think you will find somebody to write that check out. I have very little doubt. Why is it moving quickly? Because you’re going to get a great price. You have two really good markets. You have a lot of demand right now. I’ve never seen the market for pro sports franchises — forget the NBA but any sports franchise in the big leagues — as robust as it is today … This is the perfect time to expand. Why would you wait?”

The Suns and Mercury were valued at a combined $4 billion when Mat Ishbia and his brother bought control of the franchises from Robert Sarver earlier this year, but that transaction only netted them upward of 50 percent of the team, not the full share. The Bucks were valued at $3.5 billion when Jimmy Haslam bought out Marc Lasry’s 25 percent stake. The Hornets went for a reported $3 billion dollars this summer to Rick Schnall and Gabe Plotkin. The Qatari Investment Authority bought a 5 percent share of Monumental Sports — which owns the Washington Wizards, Capitals and Mystics — at a valuation of a little more than $4 billion.

There will be pressure on the league to keep valuations rising. The NBA has increased access to teams for institutional investors in recent years, sensing that there were fewer wealthy individuals who could buy a team on their own or buy out expensive minority stakes. It allowed private equity funds in during 2020 and then let sovereign wealth funds, pension funds and university endowments in during 2022. No one fund can own more than 20 percent of a franchise, and funds together cannot own more than a cumulative 30 percent of a franchise. A team’s control owner cannot own less than 15 percent of the franchise.

There is already intrigue about whether the NBA would change its rules on how much of a team can be owned by a private equity or sovereign wealth fund, let alone if either could be a control owner. Silver said this summer that he could not see a sovereign wealth fund running a team “in the foreseeable future” and preferred that an individual maintain control of a franchise.

As franchise valuations continue to climb, there will be fewer wealthy individuals who can afford to buy a franchise or even a majority share, which could necessitate the need to smooth the rules to allow values to keep increasing. But even if the prices might seem high, they won’t be prohibitive. Teams have become their own investment asset class in recent years, with its own industry building around it and more money behind it.

“All these people build these ridiculous models to tell you what these things are worth,” the longtime banker said. “You know what these things are worth? What some guy with a huge bank account is willing to pay for it.”

If the league does expand, it will add a new franchise for the first time in more than two decades. The NBA hasn’t introduced a new franchise since the Charlotte Bobcats were approved by the league in 2003 and started play with the 2004-05 season. The NFL’s Houston Texans began play the year prior. The NHL has added two teams since then. The WNBA just announced a new franchise last month and still hopes to add at least one more.

Silver has taken to expansion with a sense of patience and seriousness.

“I can’t set a specific timeline on it, but a main part of my job, if not the most important part of my job, is to grow this league,” Silver said last month. “So, it’s something I think about a lot.”

(Photo of Adam Silver: Tom O’Connor / NBAE via Getty Images)

The weeks leading up to the NBA’s February trade deadline were anxious times for Mike Conley and his wife, Mary. They had spent the past three-and-a-half years in Utah, making a home in Salt Lake City for their three children while Mike pursued a championship with the talent-laden Jazz.

They had found the perfect neighborhood, filled with similarly aged children for their kids to play with, made friends in the organization and the community, and with Mike at 35, could envision what life would look like in Utah even after his playing days were over.

But one by one, they had watched the core of the Jazz depart. Donovan Mitchell traded to Cleveland. Rudy Gobert shipped to Minnesota. Bojan Bogdanović sent to Detroit. Suddenly, Conley was one of the last vets standing in Utah’s rebuilding plan. Even though the Jazz had been surprisingly competitive through the first three months of that 2022-23 season, Mike and Mary knew they could be next out the door.

Conley stayed in constant communication with his agent and would even bend the ear of a journalist or two to see what they were hearing about the rumor mill. He kept a close eye on the Los Angeles Lakers and LA Clippers, two playoff-hopeful teams in need of a veteran point guard. But as the deadline grew nearer and nearer, there was little tangible sign that the Jazz had anything substantive cooking, so the family started to settle into the idea that they would stay in Utah … at least for the rest of the season.

“It seemed like nothing was happening on the other teams,” Mike Conley said. “I was like, ‘We’re going to be in Utah.’ ”

On Feb. 8, one day before the trade deadline, Conley started going through his normal midday routine at his home in Utah before heading to the arena for a game that night against Minnesota. While playing the video game “Call of Duty” with teammates Malik Beasley and Kelly Olynyk, he heard Beasley through his headset starting a curious conversation.

What? Say what? Me to L.A.? Oh, man. Me and Vando to L.A., and Mike to Minnesota?

The trade deadline can be a hectic time of year. Rumors flying everywhere. Conley did not know who Beasley was speaking to, but he started texting his agent, just in case this one had legs. In a day and age where players will often learn about trades through social media, Conley had the news broken to him by Beasley while on a video game. The Jazz traded their vet leader to Minnesota with Nickeil Alexander-Walker in a three-team deal that brought Russell Westbrook (briefly), Juan Toscano-Anderson and Damian Jones to Utah and sent Beasley, Jarred Vanderbilt and D’Angelo Russell to the Lakers.

“I was like, ‘Whoa! We play them tonight. I’m going to the arena in like 30 minutes,’ ” Conley said.

Conley’s arrival in Minnesota has been a revelation for the Timberwolves. From the moment he landed, he has helped stabilize a team in desperate need of a steady hand on the wheel. With Conley at the helm this season, the Timberwolves have been one of the league’s biggest surprises. They are 11-3 and in first place in the Western Conference, the best start in franchise history. And Conley is the 36-year-old straw who is stirring the drink.

“It’s probably the best situation for me at this stage of my career,” he said. “Not only do we have a team that can be competitive to a contending team in no time, but I also get to be a part of that, like I’m not being thrown to the side where they say, ‘Hey, you know, you’re done playing. You’re not going to play much. It’s a leadership role.’ ”

The Conleys have settled nicely in Minnesota, their third stop in Mike’s 17-year career. But those early days of transition last winter were not easy. The NBA is the most transaction-obsessed league in American sports. Fans tinker with online trade machines like they’re running a front office. Teams are hyperactive in wheeling and dealing, shipping players around the league. Lost in the analysis of the deals, the celebration of a new player’s arrival and the rampant rumormongering of who is going and who is staying is the human toll exacted on those in the middle of it all.

Conley had been traded before, in the summer of 2019, when Memphis sent him to Utah. At the time, his oldest son, Myles, was just 2. Now they are a family of five. Myles is 7, Noah is 5 and Elijah is 3. They had friends in Utah. Myles and Noah were in school. The timing of the move coming during the season meant they would be without their dad for an extended period while he went to play for Minnesota. Mary and the kids would stay back in Utah to finish the school year.

“There were all these unknowns of us starting over,” Mary said. “When we got traded the first time, the kids were so little, it was just me. So it didn’t affect them as much. But now, this time, it’s like I have to start thinking about a school, sports, pediatricians, dentists, everything.”

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The Conleys were at ease enough with their situation in Utah on Feb. 8 that Mary decided to go forward with a planned trip from Utah to New York City with Spencer Hardy, wife of Jazz head coach Will Hardy, and several other friends from the organization. Her flight was in the air when her cell phone suddenly started buzzing with text messages.

I’m so mad right now. 

Oh my gosh! 

I think it happened. 

Mary was sitting right next to Hardy as the messages started pouring in, tears gushing from her eyes and panic pulsing through her body. She couldn’t call Mike. She couldn’t hug her children and explain to them what was happening. Minnesota had never really entered their minds as a possible destination. She was a mom and a wife stuck 30,000 feet in the air and hurtling in the exact opposite direction from where she needed to be.

“I just lost it,” Mary said, her eyes welling again seven months later as she sat on a couch in the couple’s suburban Minneapolis home. “It’s hard not to cry now because it was such an emotional time. And I think what made it really hard is because we weren’t together.”

Shortly after hearing about the possibility of the deal, Conley headed to the Jazz arena to investigate the situation. What followed was a whirlwind made even more unique by the fact that his new team was, by some crazy coincidence, at the same arena preparing to play the Jazz. Conley got dressed and went through some Jazz warmups to find some kind of normalcy. But when it became clear that the deal was going to go through, he showered, said some goodbyes to teammates and Jazz staff and headed for the door.

On his way out, he bumped into former Timberwolves equipment manager Peter Warden, who introduced himself and started to prepare him for the transition. He asked Conley what size shirt he wore, prompting Conley to smile at the seeming mundanity of the question as his world was turning upside down.

At the time of the trade, the Wolves were 29-28, a record far below expectations after they pulled off one of the biggest trades of the summer of 2022 when they landed Rudy Gobert from Utah for five players and a bevy of draft picks. They needed Conley, who had extensive experience playing with Gobert, and they needed him right now.

Fans often dismiss the human element of these transactions, justifying it by the extraordinary salaries that so many of them command. But all the money in the world couldn’t take the initial sting away for Conley.

“You can make a lot of money, but if you get punched in the face, you’re still like, ‘Oh my God, that hurt,’ ” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. But at this moment, it’s hurting me. So let me feel this for a second here and then move on.”

Conley headed back home to his children, who were being watched by Mary’s mother. He remembers a surreal scene of sitting on the couch with them while the Jazz and Timberwolves were playing on the television. The kids were a little confused. They were used to watching Daddy play when the Jazz were on TV.

He explained that he had been traded. He pulled up a map and showed them where Minnesota was. He told them about the Mall of America — “The biggest mall in the world!” he told them — to get them excited.

“I want to go to Minnesota. I can’t wait to go to Minnesota,” Myles told his father. Mission accomplished.

“They probably didn’t understand exactly what it meant, like you’re going to leave behind your schools and all that stuff,” Mike said.

What really sold the kids on Minnesota? In their eyes, the team name changing from Jazz to Timberwolves was a serious upgrade.

“Our kids love animals, so to cheer for Wolves, Timberwolves, was very cool,” Mary said. “That was one easy thing.”

Maybe the only one. The Conleys are a close-knit family. When they considered trades to Los Angeles, it was not as daunting. It’s a quick flight from Salt Lake City to L.A. But Minnesota? It caught them completely off guard. Mike would leave immediately to join the team, suiting up two days later in Memphis of all places, the city where he spent the first 12 years of his career.

“We have a huge support network and our neighbors are there for us, and tons of friends. But no one can replace your spouse, no one can replace your dad,” Mary said. “So I think we all handled it well, but it definitely still was hard.”

The Jazz were conflicted as well. Sending Conley away meant saying goodbye to a key part of a team that was surprisingly competitive at 27-28, not far behind Minnesota, and firmly in the Western Conference Play-In Tournament race. As a first-year head coach who was younger than his starting point guard, Will Hardy leaned heavily on Conley for guidance.

“Mike was a massive safety blanket for our team and, most importantly, for me,” Hardy said.

But the Jazz were in rebuild mode, prioritizing stockpiling draft assets and developing Lauri Markkanen and Walker Kessler over winning in the moment. It was not a shock that on the day Conley left, the Jazz suffered one of their most lopsided defeats of the season 143-118 to the Timberwolves.

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Mary was not able to see her husband in person until she met up with him in Dallas five days later. Finally reunited, they embraced, talked and tried to get their bearings.

“It was hard even watching the games,” Mary said. “It just didn’t seem real. I could see him in the jersey, but I’m like, ‘Where are we?’ It was just so unfamiliar.”

The Wolves played three games before the All-Star break, giving the family a small chance to catch their breath and spend some time together. But it felt like every waking moment was spent scouting school districts, looking for a house and navigating Minnesota’s snowy winter.

Even in the first few days with his new team, Mike had started to wrap his brain around the situation. There were several familiar faces. He had played alongside Gobert and Alexander-Walker in Utah and Kyle Anderson in Memphis. He was now teammates with a budding young star in Anthony Edwards and was awaiting the return of three-time All-Star Karl-Anthony Towns from a calf injury. Jaden McDaniels is one of the best perimeter defenders in the league and coach Chris Finch told Conley that he needed him to run the show.

Conley’s biggest concern about possibly getting traded was that he would land on a team that would just see him as a contract that was soon to come off the books and not an asset on the floor. That was not the case in Minnesota.

“Man, this is great,” Conley thought to himself. “I get to have the ball, shoot, score, pass, whatever it is. Whatever it takes to win. And I saw the depth of the team that we had, and it was like, man, there’s not many teams that have this.”

He played in all 24 regular-season games after being acquired by the Wolves, averaging 14.0 points, 5.0 assists and shooting 42 percent from 3-point range. More importantly, he showed the rest of his teammates how best to play with Gobert and helped lead them to a playoff berth, where they performed well in a 4-1 loss to the eventual champion Denver Nuggets. An excitable team by nature benefited greatly from Conley’s cool. Edwards quickly took to him, picking his brain on what went right and what went wrong after every game.

“If you heard the reports about Mike Conley before he came, you would’ve thought he was broken down and had to be wrapped in bubble plastic every day,” Finch said. “But it’s certainly not been the case. He’s given us everything and more. I think he’s exceeded our expectations by a long mile on and off the floor.”

In some ways, the isolation of those early days in Minnesota helped Conley narrow his focus to the court. With his family back in Utah, Conley had nothing to come home to, so he didn’t come home. He spent long hours at the Wolves practice facility, working out, getting treatment and honing his craft. He most often FaceTimed with his kids while he was recuperating in the cold tub.

“It kind of rejuvenated me in a sense,” he said. “And it kind of kept my mind off of all the things that I couldn’t control as far as seeing my family or not seeing them.”

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This summer, the Timberwolves exercised Conley’s $24.3 million team option for this season, an expected move given Conley’s impact on the team and their need to leap this season. Once that happened, Mary started to feel more secure about finding a house for the family to live in while the Wolves pulled out all the stops to help her identify prime areas, review schools and get a sense of the community.

“The organization is really, really great and welcoming and included us and tried to help us in any way,” she said. “And that’s all any mom could ask for.”

After much searching in the Twin Cities’ red-hot real estate market, they ended up buying a beautiful place in a suburb about 15 minutes from downtown Minneapolis with a pool and deer running through the fields behind the house. Mary now knows her way around Target Center and has gotten to know people in the organization. The family has become enamored with the lake life that is such a part of the fabric of Minnesota. The kids are in school and playing sports and making friends.

Suddenly, the Conleys are feeling the positives of their situation. Mary laughs when she points out that Minnesota is much closer to their summer home in Columbus, Ohio.

“We’ve gotten over the roller-coaster emotions,” she said, smiling. “We can be excited now.”

Timberwolves fans have been excited from the moment the deal went down. They dubbed their new point guard “Minnesota Mike.” Mary wore a shirt with the moniker to the team’s home opener against Miami in October.

MINNESOTA MIKE!!!!!!!! pic.twitter.com/7YQ2QnApvW

— Minnesota Timberwolves (@Timberwolves) November 15, 2023

As promising as the fit looked last season, it’s been even better this season. They have already beaten formidable opponents in Denver, Boston, New York and Golden State and are 7-0 at home. After a rough first season in Minnesota, Gobert has returned to his dominant defensive form. Edwards has shown all the makings of a young superstar. Towns has found his rhythm. And Conley’s fingerprints are everywhere.

“One of the things I’m really grateful for is Mike coming here,” Gobert said. “The presence, the impact that he has, not just on the court, but especially in the locker room. The way he carries himself, you can overlook it, but for Ant, for all the young guys, Jaden, it’s invaluable what he brings. They’re going to carry that over their whole career.”

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When Conley first arrived in Minnesota, he told himself not to get too close. He has always been the kind of guy to fall fast for his surroundings. He loved it in Memphis. He loved it in Utah. He loved his one year of college at Ohio State so much that the family lives in Columbus in the offseason.

He was planning on keeping his latest home at arm’s length. This was a business. He is in the final year of his contract. The future is uncertain. No need to form close ties just yet. But Conley just can’t seem to help himself.

He loved spending time on the water this summer. He has found some great restaurants and told his father just before the season started that he needs to come out and visit, take a boat ride and play some golf to appreciate how nice it is here.

“I just fall in love and I’m like, ‘Man, this could be a place we could have a lake house in Minnesota,’ ” Mike said. “Instead of having to go somewhere really far or something, I would just go to Minnesota for the summer. So I’ll just start rambling and getting into my head.”

Myles came home from school recently and proudly told his mom that he made eight friends that day. Noah likes to compare the kids he has met in Minnesota to his old friends in Utah. Mary has found a workout spot and is now looking for community groups who could use help during the holiday season. After a period of acclimation, things appear to be falling into place.

“I’m happy. We’re good. We’re settled,” she said, the relief palpable in her voice. “And then wherever the future takes us, we’ll be ready to support.”

Timberwolves president of basketball operations Tim Connelly was the architect of the deal that brought Conley to Minnesota. Connelly said before the season that he hopes this is the last stop in Conley’s career, but that will be tricky. Towns, Gobert and Edwards are all on max contracts. Jaden McDaniels and Naz Reid signed lucrative extensions this summer. The luxury tax is looming for a franchise that has rarely paid it.

Then again, Conley is the only starting-caliber point guard on the roster. There is no Plan B right now.

“Certainly we didn’t get Mike for just to be a short-term thing,” Connelly said in September. “When you get a person as special as Mike is, you want to be sure that he doesn’t leave here.”

The one thing Conley has yet to do in 17 years in the league is win a title. But after the harrowing days of early February, he does not want to embark on a puddle-jumping, ring-chasing sojourn through the back end of his career. It just so happens that for one of the rare times in the franchise’s 35-year history, the Timberwolves offer a legitimate option to contend in the Western Conference.

“Why not chase it here and hope that my family adjusts and gets settled here right now and not have to run around for three or four more times before I retire,” he said. “And just because I’m chasing something I want, you’re not guaranteed to get it anywhere else you go anyway. So why not do it with people that love, respect you and treat you the way you want to be treated? This organization is all about heading in that direction.”

When times have gotten their toughest for the Timberwolves this season, when the offense gets stagnant and an opponent is making a run, Finch will turn to Conley and tell him, “Go get the ball.” The rest of the team looks to him to settle things down, to get a good shot and to solve whatever problem they are currently facing.

Whenever he hears that command from his coach, Conley smiles. Whenever he sees one of his teammates looking to him for help, he embraces it.

“I haven’t heard that in a long time,” he said. “To have that kind of trust from not only coaches but the team, this is why I’m here. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

The Conleys did not have control over landing in Minnesota. They had no say in how the deal went or the logistics of the move from Utah. But the family stayed strong and made it through those difficult early days and now are thriving, on the court and off it.

Now as the Timberwolves dare to chase something that would have been unfathomable for nearly all of their previous 34 years of existence, one thing has become abundantly clear: Mike Conley is in control.

(Illustration: Eamonn Dalton / The Athletic; photos: Jordan Johnson, Zach Beeker / NBAE via Getty Images)

By Jon Krawczynski, Anthony Slater and Marcus Thompson II

Golden State Warriors guard Klay Thompson, forward Draymond Green and Minnesota Timberwolves forward Jaden McDaniels were ejected after an altercation broke out in the first quarter of Tuesday’s game.

Just 1:43 into the game, Thompson and McDaniels got into a scuffle at center half, with both players grabbing each other’s jersey. Moments later, Minnesota’s Rudy Gobert — who appeared to try to break up the altercation — was grabbed around the neck by Green before players and coaches intervened to break up the altercation.

Thompson, Green and McDaniels were ejected.

The Timberwolves beat the Warriors 104-101. Minnesota improved to 8-2, while Golden State fell to 6-6.

What exactly happened between Thompson and McDaniels?

Thompson boxed out McDaniels in the right corner on one of the first possessions of the night. As part of that, Thompson appeared to grab McDaniels’ jersey. McDaniels objected. He grabbed Thompson’s jersey and started yanking on it, leading to a strange and prolonged tug-of-war between the two that culminated in a much bigger commotion. Thompson’s sweater was torn. After the assessment, both were ejected. – Anthony Slater, Warriors beat writer

The Warriors and T-Wolves got into a brawl in the first 1:43 of the game.

Draymond Green put Rudy Gobert in a headlock.

@NBCSWarriors pic.twitter.com/p3yzj8Mvip

— The Athletic (@TheAthletic) November 15, 2023

What exactly happened between Green and Gobert?

As the confrontation between McDaniels and Thompson transitioned to the Warriors side of the court, Gobert came in and grabbed Thompson from behind. That brought Green into the fray, and he put Gobert in a chokehold to pull him off Thompson. Karl-Anthony Towns and Anthony Edwards grabbed Green and Gobert, and tempers continued to flare. McDaniels was extremely agitated and had to be restrained by teammates as he yelled at Thompson. — Jon Krawczynski, Timberwolves beat writer

Are there any longer-term concerns for Warriors?

Possibly. I doubt Thompson and McDaniels will receive any additional discipline, but everyone knows the history between Green and the NBA. They even admitted after Domantas Sabonis’ first-round stomp that they had suspended Green for a game in part because of his past. That will likely come into play again as they review this incident in the coming days. If they find Green’s attitude toward Gobert excessive, he could be suspended again this week after two separate ejections. —Slater

What losing McDaniels means for the Timberwolves

McDaniels is the Wolves’ best perimeter defender. His importance in this game was diminished slightly with Steph Curry dropping out, but Wolves will still miss the pressure he can put on Chris Paul and Andrew Wiggins. From a team perspective, the fight certainly seemed to confuse the Wolves early in the game. They initially struggled to calm the game down, missing shots, turning the ball over and looking disorganized on defense, which played into the hands of the short-handed Warriors early on. – Krawczynski

How the Warriors replaced Green

Green’s famous final altercation was with his own teammate. It cost him some credibility in the locker room. How will this affect his position in the locker room since defending Thompson? Will it be seen as a good thing? The Warriors’ early start to the season was characterized by a good atmosphere, which was in contrast to last year. Green said the chemistry was terrible last year.

Will this be a galvanizing force for the Warriors? Whether the latest incident of Green going overboard will cost the Warriors?

This creates a great opportunity for Jonathan Kuminga. With Green out, there are 30 minutes of action available on the Warriors’ front court. The Warriors desperately need one of their young players to take a leap, especially since height and athleticism have been known to cause the Warriors problems.

Another potential opportunity presents itself for Trayce Jackson-Davis, the rookie the Warriors love. Green is essentially the Warriors’ backup center. – Marcus Thompson II, senior columnist

Required reading

(Photo: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)

The 2023-24 Nike NBA City Edition uniforms were unveiled last Thursday. NBA fans will be treated to another season where alternate uniforms, according to Nike, continue to “represent the stories, history and heritage that make each franchise unique.”

The uniforms are now in their seventh season with the NBA, and they have been a big hit in the past. Home teams will wear the uniforms throughout the NBA In-Season Tournament, which tipped off last Friday and will run until Dec. 9.

The big question: How does this year’s collection of uniforms look?

The unveiling gave The Athletic’s team of Jason Jones, James Edwards III and Kelly Iko an opportunity to discuss the jerseys in depth. The trio conferred about all 30 City Edition jerseys and came up with its own power rankings. The writers ranked each team using a scoring system where 30 points were given to their favorite jersey, all the way to one point given to their least favorite. This explains the numbers in parentheses next to each writer’s name below.

Which jersey was the collective favorite? Here are the rankings and the writers’ thoughts of each, starting from worst to first.

(All images are courtesy of Nike and the NBA)

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Edwards (5 points): This makes me want a Mountain Dew Baja Blast from Taco Bell.

Iko (2): Have you ever chewed, like, five Skittles at once and looked at it? This is that. Come on, y’all.

Jones (1): There’s a lot going on here. Doesn’t really work for me.

Jones (7): The artwork for “Nets” is supposed to give a graffiti vibe. I wish it would have leaned more into that, especially with this season occurring as hip-hop celebrates its 50th anniversary.

Edwards (6): I’m all for trying to be creative and different; you take a risk when you do that. But the Nets took a risk, and they failed. Miserably.

Iko (1): It’s actually fitting that this was inspired by KAWS’ “Tension,” because that’s exactly the type of headache I get from looking at this for too long. This is a bad jersey. It’s actually baffling because KAWS makes some really dope art.

Jones (10): A mash between the early and modern Lakers. Not a big fan of the triangular shape of “Los Angeles,” but I understand its ties to the early days of the Lakers in the city. What would have been wild would have been something lake-related. That would have stood out more than another black jersey.

Iko (5): What’s going on in Los Angeles? I get it, Laker Nation rides hard for its team, but when I go to the store, I’m not thinking about the triangle offense. It could be worse though … like Brooklyn’s.

Edwards (4): I don’t really care about the reasoning for the placement of “Los Angeles.” It looks bad. Horrific. It’s like someone went to JOANN Fabrics and tried to make a custom Lakers jersey but ended up not measuring the width of the jersey correctly. For such a historic franchise, I expected better.

Iko (15): I once got lost on Beale Street trying to get to FedExForum in Memphis. These give me the same confused vibe. The font is a cool idea, but it wasn’t executed well enough. Back to the drawing board.

Jones (3): The Grizzlies had my favorite City Edition jersey last season. Not so much this year. It’s basic. Doesn’t have the same personality as last season when the jersey screamed Memphis swagger.

Edwards (2): Someone on social media said the Memphis jersey is a QR code to see the actual jersey, and I can’t stop laughing. Horrible.

Edwards (13): I don’t mind this, because it’s different without being too extra. The color combination is obscure, and while it doesn’t make any sense to me in terms of a connection to Indianapolis, it’s not an ugly jersey. Middle of the pack for me.

Iko (6): There is way too much going on. These are a mess.

Jones (2): When I think of Indiana, I don’t think vibrant, which is what this jersey is. I’ve been to Indianapolis plenty of times, but this just doesn’t connect with the city for me.

Iko (10): “Heat Culture” is one of those things that should be said and understood, not displayed on the front of a jersey. Miami has so many more things to offer as a city that could have been used with these jerseys. Missed opportunity.

Jones (9): Nothing “Miami Vice”-related? No vibrant colors? A red-and-black jersey seems pretty simple. Adding “Heat Culture” is a nice touch, but when it comes to Miami, I prefer the “Vice” theme.

Edwards (3): I don’t think saying “Heat Culture” is as corny as most people do, but a jersey that says “Heat Culture” … yeah, that’s corny.

Iko (14): This might have ranked higher if pickaxes were on the front and the mountains were on the back. They also could have done without the “5280” slapped across the middle. Three and four numbers on the front of a jersey is for AAU. Distracting.

Jones (8): I’m still not sure how I feel about “5280” across the chest. I understand the significance, but how many numbers do you need on the front of a jersey? It takes away from the Denver skyline in the background.

Edwards (1): Whoever came up with this jersey should be suspended (with pay, of course). I’m sorry. I like Denver as a city, and I love the Nuggets, but these are comically bad. Some players will have six numbers on the front of their jerseys when Denver wears them. Six.

Edwards (12): Do these glow in the dark? If not, that’s disappointing.

Iko (12): Somehow, some way, I blame (Pelicans writer) Will Guillory for these.

Jones (4): The perfect jersey to wear around Halloween.

Edwards (20): I like the color combinations, as well as the font of “OKC.” I’m a fan of these.

Jones (5): This scheme matches the “Love’s” patch. Maybe that was intentional. The orange jumps out, but it’s pretty simple overall.

Iko (4): This makes me think of McDonald’s. These are pretty blah, but they might look better framed.

Edwards (17): I wanted to knock it down some points for being so basic, but the ugliness of some other jerseys made it hard to penalize the Clippers for not trying.

Iko (7): Did Marcus Morris make this as a parting gift? Morris averaged 12 points as a Clipper. This is that, but in jersey form: I came to work and I did the job that was asked of me.

Jones (6): Nothing too fancy with this. No cool backstory or details in the description. Just a plain “Clips” jersey.

Edwards (15): I ended up with them in the middle of the pack because I don’t like the placement of “Chicago.” It should be a little bit lower. That messed it all up for me.

Jones (12): The intent is to be a nod to the old Chicago Stadium of the early 1990s. “Chicago” down the front of the jersey reminds me of the shooting shirts worn by a young Michael Jordan. It’s not the most imaginative, but it works.

Iko (3): I understand the reference to Chicago Stadium from the ’90s, and I’m sure the locals really draw to the style, but I’ve never been a fan of the vertical lettering. It just makes for an awkward space in the middle.

Jones (11): There’s a lot going on here. Pinstripes. Doubling up on “New York.” The black down the side. Just a lot.

Iko (11): I feel like the Knicks have had a version of this every year for the last 10,000 years. It’s like the printer lagged out.

Edwards (9): A drunk version of a Knicks jersey. That’s all I got.

Jones (15): Nothing will top the MLK jersey for me. I like the blue on this, but it’s pretty basic compared to some of the previous versions.

Edwards (14): They’re fine. They’re middle of the pack to me, which might not say a lot because there are some absolutely horrendous City Edition jerseys.

Iko (13): Maybe it’s the combination of the lowercase font on these and the peachy color that throws me off, but it just seems OK. There’s no story or anything that really speaks to me. It’s fine — nothing more, nothing less.

Iko (19): I didn’t expect the Spurs to go with the white base, but this will look really dope under the arena lights. Also, Ricky’s Tacos in San Antonio is the best place many have never heard of.

Jones (14): Would I wear this one? Probably not … but I like it. It’s very San Antonio. It definitely fits the city.

Edwards (10): The lettering is cool. That’s about it. This is too basic.

Iko (18): San Francisco is a unique city, from its transportation system to landscape. That matches the lettering of these jerseys. I’ve ridden through the streets for years, and each time, the hills surprise me. The black on the jersey also is really emboldened, if that makes sense.

Jones (17): The more I look at it, the more I like it. The cable car design of the “San Francisco” lettering works. The simplicity of the design with hints of the cable car history makes this a nice alternate jersey.

Edwards (11): The idea was cool, but the execution is meh to me. It’s an OK jersey with awkward lettering. Not the best, but not the worst.

Iko (20): Sweet threads. I love the cultural melting pot Toronto is, and that is reflected in the making of this jersey. These will be a hit in the city.

Jones (20): The gold and lightning accents make this one of the Raptors’ best jerseys. “We the North” also reminds everyone that Toronto truly is an international city.

Edwards (7): I don’t like gold uniforms at all. Just a personal preference. I love Toronto, though. It’s my favorite North American city. However, hard pass on the jersey.

Edwards (21): I want to first shout out Erykah Badu while we’re on the topic of Dallas and R&B. Legend. This jersey is one of the better ones simply because of the font, colors and simplicity. It’s clean, and it pops. Hard to not like this.

Jones (13): Tapping into the R&B history of the region makes for a cool backstory. The jersey itself is pretty simple, but the details via the input of Leon Bridges are a nice discussion point.

Iko (16): I was actually curious about how and where Dallas would draw inspiration prior to these coming out. Leon Bridges is awesome, especially tied with the city’s history of R&B (shout-out to Tevin Campbell). For some reason, I keep thinking about Michael Finley when I see these.

Iko (26): Loooove these. The way the white dissolves into the blue gives a chilling effect. My mind immediately jumps to rapper Lil Yachty: “Cold Like Minnesota.”

Jones (19): This gives off calm and soothing vibes, perfect for the Land of 10,000 Lakes. If the Timberwolves ran back the Prince alternate versions every year, I’d be happy, but this is a nice bounceback after last season’s version.

Edwards (8): I guess I’ll be Debbie Downer here. These are mid, at best. Everything is smooshed at the top — the change in color, the number, “Minnesota” and the sponsors. I don’t love how small “Minnesota” reads. These would be lower for me if it weren’t for some of the nastiness that we’ve already talked about.

Iko (21): You can never go wrong with teal and blue, and I really like how they incorporated the hornet influence. I can almost see Baron Davis crossing someone over in these. Nice work.

Jones (18): Charlotte’s colors are some of the best in the league. I’m digging the gold touch, too. Much better than last season’s edition.

Edwards (16): I agree with Jason. The Hornets have some of the best colors in the league. Hard to mess that up. These are clean, not too much.

Edwards (22): If you’re not going to be creative, then keep it clean. Boston did. For my Michigan people, this jersey looks like an ad for Vernors.

Iko (17): Maybe I’m in the minority, but I actually like the blending of the white on the front with the wood grain texture on the sides.

Jones (16): Who knew Boston had a history of furniture making? I sure didn’t. The wood coloring on the side is also a nod to peach baskets, the part of history I would expect.

Edwards (26): I’m going to sound like a hypocrite here, because the lettering doesn’t bug me nearly as much as the “Chicago” on the Bulls uniform, even though it’s just as high up the jersey. I think it’s because of the different colors. It breaks it up a little bit. These colors go together well. It’s sleek and clean.

Jones (22): I’d be in favor of the Kings rocking this full-time. We need something that connects the Kings to their history with Oscar Robertson, and this jersey works.

Iko (8): This is another one that James and Jason probably like, but I just can’t bring myself to it. Maybe it’s the width of the “Kings” stripes, but there’s a lot going on for me. I do like the colors, though.

Jones (25): Another winner for the Bucks in the City Editions. The blue pops, and the cream “wave” is a nice touch. I’m just glad they didn’t go for a black jersey.

Edwards (23): I like the colors, especially the cream design across the middle and down the side.

Iko (9): I’m definitely in the minority with these. I love the historical connection to water used here, but really … using the arch as an ode to Fiserv Forum? Didn’t the arena open, like, five years ago? Not a fan.

Jones (24): The plaid in honor of Dr. Jack Ramsay makes this a winner. It’s subtle, but it’s a great look. The Blazers kept it simple, but the history is in the details.

Iko (23): Black is always a good default, and the Blazers did well with these. You don’t have to go for a home run all the time: A simple base hit will suffice.

Edwards (18): Hard to hate it, easy not to love it. The plaid inside the lettering is a nice touch, visually and in terms of the backstory.

Edwards (25): I’m a sucker for navy blue, red and white. Those three colors go together so well for me. I also really like the font on the front. Two thumbs up.

Iko (22): It’s always hilarious hearing Philly associated with love, having spent quite a bit of time at 76ers games. But, really smooth color transition here, and the lettering is neat.

Jones (21): Navy blue was a good play for the red and white. The Reading Terminal Market lettering also is a great addition. I’m always going to like seeing “City of Brotherly Love” on a jersey.

Edwards (27): I like the connection to Phi Slama Jama. It looks classy. It’s not over the top.

Iko (24): If you’re not from the city, you probably won’t get the cross reference between the University of Houston and the old Rockets teams, but this is a classic blend. This will sell like hotcakes at the Galleria.

Jones (23): Phi Slama Jama gets some love with this design. Had to look up the shooting shirts worn by the University of Houston during Clyde Drexler and Hakeem Olajuwon’s college days to truly appreciate the design. Going with “H-Town” across the chest is a nice touch.

Iko (30): My favorite. T-Mac. Penny. Shaq. Türkoğlu. All Magic legends, just like this jersey. It’s nostalgic. It’s smooth. It’s fire. This is how you do it. Take notes, Brooklyn.

Jones (28): Going navy blue with the chain-link stripes feels like a modern version of the early Magic jerseys — which I like. The star for the “A” in Orlando is placed perfectly and will look good on the court.

Edwards (19): I agree with the fellas. A modern twist on a ’90s basketball kid’s favorite jersey. Good job, Orlando.

Iko (27): These are really dope. There’s intricate detail around the edges, and using the gold to highlight Cleveland’s theater scene is exactly the type of historical tidbit we never hear about. Awesome stuff.

Jones (26): These jerseys work best when I learn something new. I had no idea of Cleveland’s connection to theater until learning about this jersey design. Cleveland has the largest performing arts center outside of New York? Wow. It’s simple, but the details make this one nice.

Edwards (24): I didn’t know that either, Jason. Shout-out to the Cavs. It’s basic, but it’s done well. Good story. Definitely a top City Edition jersey.

Edwards (29): The Karl Malone/John Stockton-era jerseys are some of my favorites of all time, and this is a great tweak of those. Give me any purple on a jersey. These aren’t as good as the Jazz uniforms from the ’90s — those are some of the best ever — but they are nice.

Iko (28): Can the Jazz keep these forever? These are perfect. It’s not too much mountain for Utah fans, I don’t think, and the purple rocks.

Jones (27): I’d take these over what the Jazz normally wear. The purple is perfect. The skyline works in paying homage to the best teams that played in Utah. I move that the Jazz stick with these jerseys.

Jones (30): One of the worst things from the late 1980s/early ’90s was that the Bad Boy Pistons didn’t play in black uniforms. Alternate jerseys weren’t the thing back then, but if they were, these would have been perfect. And how would anyone not like the crossbones here? The uniform captures the essence of the era perfectly.

Edwards (30): These are clean. The connection to the “Bad Boys” era makes sense. It’s different from what the Pistons have done in the past. Well done. Very well done.

Iko (25): I’d think Bill Laimbeer would rock these passionately. Everything about these screams Detroit Pistons basketball from back in the day — tough as nails, sleek and dark.

Iko (29): It takes real talent to make purple and pink go together. These are the jerseys that make people smile. Well done.

Jones (29): I love foreign languages on jerseys; the Suns hit a home run with this design. I also love the acknowledgement of lowrider culture. The design puts me in a custom ’64 Impala on a sunny day that’s bouncing down the street on switches.

Edwards (28): Purple is my favorite color. I also like pink and teal. So, yeah, I’d be first in line to grab this if I were a Suns fan. Also, like Jason, I’m a fan of foreign languages on a jersey.

(Illustration: Sam Richardson / The Athletic; photos courtesy of Nike and the NBA)