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By Leocciano Callao

Published: 09:27 EDT, March 21, 2024 | Updated: 3:17 PM EDT, March 21, 2024

When Fred Hoiberg left a front-office job with the Minnesota Timberwolves in 2010 to coach Iowa State, he was ahead of his time chasing transfers to build a roster. Hoiberg was also ahead of the curve when he landed his biggest transfer prize: Royce White.

White was built like an NFL tight end — 6-foot-8, 250 pounds — but he thought the game like a point guard. Back then, transfers had to sit out a season, and during that sit-out year Iowa State’s coaches met regularly to try to figure out the best way to utilize someone so big with incredible ball skills.

Hoiberg settled on an untraditional role: His center would play point guard.

“We just put the ball in his hands and got our shooters in split actions — and all those guys could shoot — and that’s what Royce did best was his passing,” Hoiberg says. “So that was kind of the first really exclusive five-out (offense) in college.”

Hoiberg, now coaching Nebraska, is back in the NCAA Tournament for the first time since 2015. The common thread between all five of his tournament appearances is playing through a big man like White, who called himself a hybrid. Nebraska’s current big man Rienk Mast is in the mold of Georges Niang, Hoiberg’s second star point-center at Iowa State, in that both can dribble, pass and shoot.

And just like with the transfer portal, Hoiberg is no longer an outlier in playing through what’s become known as a playmaking center. That prototype is populating college rosters at a rate higher than ever before in the game’s history and has been steadily increasing in recent years. In this year’s NCAA Tournament, playmaking fives are all over the bracket. From true point centers like Marquette’s Oso Ighodaro to stretch fives who can also facilitate like Duke’s Kyle Filipowski to slo-mo pass-first bigs like BYU’s Aly Khalifa, you can find some version of a playmaking five on nearly half the tourney rosters.

College coaches have figured out that the easiest way to run efficient offense is five-out attacks. Ideally with centers who can shoot. And if they cannot shoot, they can at least be the trigger man and pull the opposing big away from the paint by facilitating from the perimeter.

In much the same way that Steph Curry influenced a generation of guards by shooting a higher frequency of 3-pointers and from further out, Denver Nuggets star Nikola Jokic is now the most dominant and entertaining player on the planet, and he’s made passing cool for big men.

“You look into the grassroots programs, a lot of these younger kids now, they’re really working on their multi-skill set to be able to play all five positions,” Hoiberg says. “Because that’s where our game is going is positionless basketball, especially in the NBA.”

“Every NBA team plays some form of five-out,” says Alabama first-year assistant coach Ryan Pannone, who was a G League coach for three seasons and then a New Orleans Pelicans assistant in 2022-23. “Some teams are playing a higher percentage of five-out offense, but every team is in some way shape or form.”

College basketball still has its variations, and you can still win with a post-up heavy style — see Purdue and Zach Edey — but even Edey sometimes is sent to the perimeter to initiate dribble-handoff actions. And he plays on the team that’s the second-most accurate from 3-point range, surrounding him at most times with four shooters to give him room to operate.

“Nearly every team these days has like four guys on the floor that can shoot it, and a lot have five,” says Ken Pomeroy, college basketball’s foremost authority on analytics. “Ten years ago, that was pretty rare, and 20 years ago that was almost unheard of.”

A few years ago Pomeroy dug into why teams are shooting a higher percentage of their shots from 3, and he found the main culprit was fours and fives shooting more 3s.

“Offense is spacing,” says Indiana State coach Josh Schertz, whose high-powered offense is centered around big man Robbie Avila. “Spacing is shooting. If you have great spacing, but you don’t have great shooting, you don’t have great spacing.”

And the optimal way to create that space is a playmaking center.

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Schertz keeps a FaceTime from Avila saved in his call log.

Oct. 22, 2021.

That’s the day the goggled Goliath committed to the Sycamores, before Schertz ever coached a game at the Division I level.

“That’s when we changed the program’s trajectory,” Schertz says. “You build an entire program around that kind of kid. You can build your whole offense around that kind of player.”

This is not hyperbole. In Schertz’s third season in Terre Haute, Indiana State went 28-6 and had its best season since the Larry Bird-led Sycamores made the national title game in 1979. The Sycamores were the victim of last week’s bid thieves, one of the first four out of the NCAA field, but they won the Missouri Valley regular-season title and have the most efficient halfcourt offense in college basketball. It is built around the slightly pudgy 6-foot-10 center who looks better suited to be crushing in Mathletics than on a basketball court. Avila is the college version of Jokic. Avila can shoot (40.5 percent from 3), dribble, pass (a team-high 3.8 assists per game), slash and punish switches in the post.

Last spring when Schertz recruited two point guards out of the portal (Ryan Conwell and Isaiah Swope) to join another point guard already on his roster in Julian Larry, he was asked: How are you going to play all three together?

Easy. Play none of them in the actual point guard spot. That’s Avila’s job. Although Schertz doesn’t call him the point guard; he calls him “the hub.”

“When you utilize the big as the hub,” Schertz says, “I think it creates organically an egalitarian-type offense, where everybody is more of a part of it, because the other four spots become completely interchangeable.”

The reality is that there are fewer traditional point guards than ever before. The mindset of the guard has changed. Florida Atlantic coach Dusty May brings up Tyrese Haliburton to show how unusual it is to find a pass-first point guard and the allure of playing with one.

May poses the question: Why did Pascal Siakam agree to go to the Pacers instead of opting to wait for free agency?

“Because they have a point guard that’s a superstar that likes to pass,” May says.

We might get to a point where it’s easier to find a big man who loves to pass than a guard. Two of the top five assist leaders in the NBA right now are centers — Jokic and Sacramento’s Domantas Sabonis — and we’re seeing higher assist numbers from centers in college than ever before. There are 207 playmaking big men in college basketball this season, per Synergy’s analysis, and assists per-40 minutes of all players 6-9 or taller has risen from 1.3 during the 2011-12 season (when White played for Hoiberg) to 1.8 this season.

If you have one of those bigs, a point guard no longer feels necessary. Hoiberg says he doesn’t have one, in part, because of Mast. At Illinois, Brad Underwood is starting five players who are all 6-foot-6 or taller and have all played power forward at some point in their careers. Underwood said one of his motivations was playing positionless style defensively, where the Illini can switch everything. But it’s worked beautifully offensively too; the Illini rank third in adjusted offensive efficiency. No point guard for the Illini? No problem. They have 6-11 playmaking center Coleman Hawkins.

“When you can stretch the floor with five men who can shoot it and pass it,” Underwood says, “spacing becomes ‘advantage, offense’ on all accounts.”

So much of the game has become pick-and-roll and many coverages use the center to contain the guard, so a popping big man is almost always open. And when you have to stunt at that big man, this happens:

Underwood also allows Hawkins to rebound and go. That’s another reason players like him are so valuable.

“It distorts almost every form of transition D you have,” Underwood says. “Because people send their point guard back and somebody protects the rim, so now you’re getting cross-matched immediately, especially if you play with any pace.”

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Jokic is not only the prototype; he’s giving coaches ideas to implement. Two years ago, Marquette coach Shaka Smart approached Nuggets assistant David Adelman to get ideas on five-out offense, because Ighodaro had flashed enough playmaking skills that Smart believed he’d thrive in that setup. Adelman said they let their players experiment in offseason pickup games, throwing out ideas for an action to start the play and seeing where they take it.

Smart is right there with Schertz in the number of different actions in which the Golden Eagles involve their center. Not only do both Avila and Ighodaro sometimes bring the ball up the floor, they’re both featured in pick-and-rolls as both the roller and the handler. In fact, among players with at least 50 possessions as the handler, Avila is the fifth-most efficient when the handler and Ighodaro is 77th, per Synergy.

“I think inverted ball screens are some of the hardest things to guard, because what are you going to do with them?” Schertz says. “Centers are not used to guarding ball screens with a handler. And guards are not used to guarding bigs coming off a ball screen. So it’s really unique coverage.”

Case in point:

Ighodaro is in the White mold. “He’s the five-man that doesn’t shoot it, but impacts the game in every other capacity, just because of his athleticism, his speed and his passing,” Underwood says. “Oso’s unique because he’s a freak athlete. His passing and his athleticism create gaps in space, like he’s very hard to stay connected to.”

The Golden Eagles use Ighodaro in a lot of two-man games on the side of the floor, then space with three shooters on the other side. It forces teams to play two-on-two, and Ighodaro and his guards will play hot potato until an opening presents itself. One concept that has become a go-to for centers is “gets,” where the guard will throw it to the big and then immediately go get it back on a handoff. Marquette has the luxury of Ighodaro also bringing the ball up the floor and starting the dribble handoff himself.

Dayton’s offense is almost a replica of Marquette’s, only DaRon Holmes II plays the Ighodaro role and adds the shooting element.

According to Synergy, there are a higher number of dribble handoffs this season than any other season the site has logged; if you’re wondering where the game is headed, that’s a good indicator. It’s a more efficient action than the pick-and-roll.

“Dribble handoffs are much harder to guard than ball screens,” Schertz says. “Because what’s your coverage on dribble pitches? Ball screens, you can have seven coverages. You can’t ice a dribble pitch. (Icing is keeping the ball on the sideline and forcing the handler toward the baseline.) You can’t really show on a dribble pitch, otherwise, the center’s gonna just keep the ball and go get a layup. It’s hard to lateral that. There’s way fewer coverages you can give to a dribble pitch. The more dribble pitches obviously you can produce, the higher the efficiency.”

The most efficient action is cutting, and no one is better at delivering those passes than centers who can pass. Not only are they usually always open on ball reversals, they have the best lines of vision — think of taller quarterbacks.

“Being able to see over defenders, especially on backdoors or when teams are switching, I can throw it over the top rather than throwing a bounce pass, and it comes from a better angle because it’s coming from up higher,” UConn center Donovan Clingan says. “It’s definitely an advantage being able to be 7-2 and pass the ball like that.”

Clingan is not what you’d picture in a playmaking center. But instead of just planting him in the post, which is where he would have played in past eras, Dan Hurley has made him the hub for UConn’s halfcourt offense. Clingan can’t really dribble or shoot, so defenders usually sag off him, but that’s a luxury for the Huskies. He’s always open for ball reversals, and he can execute handoffs and deliver the ball as UConn’s shooters are endlessly screening and cutting around him.

 

“I love passing,” Clingan says. “Just getting a great pass off and setting up a teammate for an easy basket, I love that.”

Hurley uses him this way because it works, but he also sees it as his responsibility to develop Clingan so he will eventually fit in the NBA.

“If they can’t play in five-out, if they can’t play away from the basket, they’re going to have a hard time getting to the NBA,” Hurley says. “So I think it’s a weapon for you, creates new opportunities offensively, but also the responsibility to the player in terms of their career and your player development and being able to recruit the next center that you can win with.”

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Go back to one of the legendary upsets in NCAA Tournament history — 13th-seeded Princeton over No. 4 seed and defending national champion UCLA in 1996 — and the box score reads like the perfect analytically-driven approach (outside of the shooting accuracy). The Tigers attempted eight more 3-pointers than 2s, and they had 15 assists on 17 made field goals. Layups and 3s are the goal today, and that’s what Pete Carril’s Princeton offense has been generating for years.

“He was doing this in the 1960s and ’70s,” says Richmond coach Chris Mooney, who was a four-year starter for Carril in the early 1990s and still runs the Princeton offense. The Spiders won the Atlantic-10 regular-season title this year with a pass-first center. “That’s not like 10 years ahead of his time; it’s 50-60 years ahead of his time.”

In 1996, the Sacramento Kings forever changed the NBA by hiring Carril and implementing elements of his offense. Some of the best college offenses have borrowed from him too, especially in the way he used his center away from the basket. It was a part of Johnny Orr’s pinch-post offense, and John Beilein had elements of the Princeton in his two-guard offense — two offenses that get copied a lot in today’s game.

Beilein reminded us years ago the value of a big man who can shoot when he had Kevin Pittsnogle at West Virginia and rode his hot shooting and the gravity it created to the 2005 Elite Eight. (Those of us who were college basketball fans in that era will forever hear the name Pittsnogle and immediately scream “PITTSNOGLLLLLLE!”)

Pittsnogle also taught us that you didn’t need an athletic, above-the-rim center to win. On the offensive end, skill in that position is much more valuable. And Jokic is taking it to another level.

Jokic is the role model for this generation’s big men. Ask just about any big guy in college basketball right now who they watch the most, and Jokic is the answer. Clingan idolizes and studies Jokic. Avila does too, getting clips sent to him of the Joker every Friday. But the part that rarely gets said out loud that Jokic has done for centers: He’s changed the way we see body types in basketball, and changed the way some guys see themselves.

Is Jokic an elite athlete? Not in the run-fast, jump-high sense, but … “In reality, they’re fantastic athletes,” Pannone says of Jokic and Luka Doncic. “What they have is the ability to process information and react quicker, which makes them more athletic and then they play at fantastic angles.”

Avila, who lives below the rim and has just one dunk this season, still finds a way to get to the basket often, averaging more than four baskets per game at the rim. Both he and Jokic also make up for a lack of foot speed with elite hand-eye coordination and body control, which can get you where you need to go on the floor sometimes just as effectively as quickness.

And it’s these below-the-rim, quick thinkers who have become college basketball’s best passers. They thrive in the actions Carril made popular. You’re not going to find more beautiful backdoor dimes than those delivered by Avila, Khalifa, Rice’s Max Fiedler and Richmond’s Neal Quinn, the latter three who all rank in the top 100 in assist rate nationally.

Peruse the top of the efficiency charts this season, and you’ll find either a center who can shoot and/or one who is a triggerman on many of those teams.

Schertz, who has the most Jokic-like player in the country, says he’ll never coach another game without a center who can be his hub.

“It’s always good to be able to coach players that are smarter than you, see the game slower,” he says. “Robbie’s been proof positive that mental acuity, when you have it at a high level, can compensate for a lack of physical quickness.”

(Illustration by Sean Reilly / The Athletic; Photos of Oso Ighodaro, Donovan Clingan and Coleman Hawkins: David Allio, G Fiume and Michael Hickey / Getty Images)

The stars came out for the LA Lakers versus the Golden State Warriors NBA game on Saturday.  

Kim Kardashian treated her son Saint West to the epic rivalry, while Jennifer Lopez got cozy with Ben Affleck courtside at the Crypto.com Arena in downtown Los Angeles.

The makeup mogul, 43, rocked a chic white T-shirt and black leather pants as she soaked in all the sports action alongside her eldest son, 8, who donned a Lakers jersey for the big game.

JLo, 54, exuded casual chic in a sweater and faded denim as she walked alongside her handsome husband, 51, while they escorted his son Samuel, 12, to their enviable seats.

The glitterati led a cavalcade of celebrities at the event, with Bad Bunny, Tyla, and more spotted in the crowd, occupying front and center seats.

Adding a pair of stiletto heels to her fashion mix, Kim looked to be enjoying the game with Saint West. 

At one point, she threw up a peace sign to the shutterbugs, as Saint was busy conversing with his pals sitting next to him.

Along with Saint, Kim also shares North, 11, Chicago, six, and Psalm, four, with her ex Kanye West.

The basketball game comes days after a source told DailyMail.com that Kim and NFL star Odell Beckham Jr. are exclusively dating.

The reality star and the 31-year-old athlete have been publicly linked since September 2023, when speculation began swirling about a potential connection between them.

Now, reports suggest that the two have taken their relationship to the next level and are exclusively dating each other. 

‘Kim has been romantically involved with Odell since last summer and thought she had managed to keep it under wraps,’ a source told DailyMail.com exclusively. ‘She is not seeing anyone else right now – at least not that her close friends know of.’

Explaining why Kim has been unusually coy about her love life, the source stated that the pair agreed to keep things private in order to avoid any false speculation that the Skims mogul is a ‘homewrecker’.

The pair started ‘hanging out’ following his split from longtime girlfriend Lauren ‘LoLo’ Wood – with whom he shares one-year-old son Zydn.

Their split was announced in September, but it is unclear when their relationship came to an end.

‘Kim really wanted to keep this romance private for two reasons,’ the source continued. ‘One is that he has a one-year-old son with his ex Lauren Woods. 

‘They both wanted to avoid any speculation that he left Lauren for Kim – branding Kim a homewrecker.’

The insider added that another key issue for the new couple is Kim’s outspoken ex-husband, Kanye with whom she has four children: North, ten, Saint, eight, Chicago, six, and Psalm, four.

‘The second reason is to avoid the backlash from Kanye,’ they continued. ‘After what Kanye put Pete Davidson through, Kim wants to avoid that at all costs. 

‘It is only a matter of time now before Kanye says something publicly, but he has no solid proof.’ 

Kim and Kanye were married for seven years until their divorce was finalized in November 2022 – one month before he married his current wife Bianca.

Meanwhile, Jlo and Ben’s outing comes after the actor faced criticism for holding onto love letters from his then-ex and now-wife during his marriage with Jennifer Garner.

The former couple — who were married from 2005 to 2018 — co-parent daughters Violet Anne, 18, Seraphina Rose, 15 and son Samuel, 12. 

Previously, it was reported that Affleck didn’t want his love letters to JLo being made public in her new film The Greatest Love Story Never Told. However, insiders revealed to DailyMail.com that it wasn’t because he had kept them a secret from his ex-wife.

Garner ‘s fans were left outraged after Affleck revealed he clung onto his correspondence with Lopez during his 13-year marriage – and later had the letters and emails bound into a book to gift the Jenny from the Block singer when they reunited in 2021.

But insiders have quashed any notion that the admission shocked Garner, insisting she is happy for Affleck and Lopez – who she is friends with – and is also at peace in her relationship with John Miller. 

‘Ben would love for the outside world not to know about his love letters, but he is a romantic, and as much as he loved Jennifer, he never got over JLo,’ a source told DailyMail.com.

‘Ben keeps his memories, whether it is from movies he worked on or family and relationship moments, he always has what the kids call “receipts”.’

They continued: ‘No one is surprised by this at all. Jennifer is OK with it, JLo obviously loves it and everyone notices that all this was meant to be. 

‘Jennifer and Ben have their wonderful children and are both enjoying the relationships they have always wanted to be in.’

Another source said: ‘JLo and Jennifer have a good relationship and they have become friends and to think that there is any bad feelings on Jennifer’s part about Ben holding onto JLo’s letters is just ridiculous. 

‘They have a blended family and Jennifer happily moved on a long time ago with John and the four of them have spent time together on multiple occasions.’

The insider explained that Garner was always aware of Affleck’s fond feelings for Lopez.

‘Jennifer knew going into her marriage how Ben felt about JLo and it was not a secret,’ they continued. 

‘JLo and Jen have a lot of respect for each other and Jennifer has told JLo how happy she is that she has come back into Ben’s life because she can actually keep him in check. JLo refuses to let him slip into his old ways.’

JLo and Ben first got engaged at the end of 2002 but broke it off a year later before calling quits on their relationship for good in 2004.

In the intervening years, Lopez married and divorced Marc Anthony, with whom she has 15-year-old twins Max and Emme. 

The couple, affectionately known as Bennifer, reunited in July 2021, and finally said ‘I do’ the following year.

• The Golden State Warriors dominated the Milwaukee Bucks in a 125-90 victory
• Steph Curry led Golden State with 29 points, eight rebounds and five assists
• DailyMail.com provides all the latest international sports news

By Leocciano Callao

Published: 3:18 PM EST, March 7, 2024 | Updated: 04:04 EST, March 8, 2024

SACRAMENTO, Calif. — The poet has been upstairs in his office, tapping at the keyboard on various projects. Most of his mornings begin this way … so much work to do. Some days he tends to his blog, and on other days he tidies up his memoir that is nearing publication. Or he may put the finishing touches on another of his mystery novels. And of course, his poetry. There is always his poetry.

Much of his poetry chronicles his remarkable life. He was born in Manchuria to Russian parents, and from ages 3 to 6 lived in a World War II internment camp in Tokyo. Just before he turned 7, he crossed under the Golden Gate Bridge. After moving to America, he later became an accomplished professional basketball player who did more than just start alongside Wilt Chamberlain. He was a 1963 NBA All-Star and the first player to have his number retired by the Golden State Warriors. He also was a failed bookstore owner, coached basketball everywhere from Portland, Ore., to Africa, and spent 24 years teaching high school English.

His eclectic path is made more fascinating in that at 85 he refuses to become idle and bask in the accomplishment of a life well lived. He says he is “obsessed” with being productive, which for him means writing. He has authored five books of poetry. Written two memoirs. Six novels. The majority of his literary work has come after he turned 70. He tries to explain the “why” behind his obsession but ultimately concedes that perhaps poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson put it best in Ulysses:

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life!

It’s that last line that particularly resonates with the poet, Tom Meschery. Just because you are breathing doesn’t mean you are living.

In 2005, he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer that has no cure. Doctors estimated he had five years to live. Now 19 years later, he is as prolific as ever, even as he sacrifices an afternoon to break from his computer and regale a visitor with stories. He credits medical science, and in particular the drug Revlimid, for keeping his cancer in remission. But he also feels something deeper, something more powerful has been behind his late-life renaissance: a love story. His love story.

He is not big on sentimentality, lest it come across as maudlin. However, he is a romantic and therefore acknowledges that his love story is more than just a poet falling for an artist. Like his poetry, which he says “seems to come out of nowhere,” she came from an online dating site and changed his life. Not only changed it but also played a role in saving it.

“I think love acted as a barrier to the cancer,” Meschery says. “It was like the door was closed. Maybe it wasn’t locked, but the love was holding onto the door and not letting the cancer in. And that kind of love changed my attitude toward living. I started spending all my time thinking about living, rather than dying.”

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When Tom Meschery received his cancer diagnosis in 2005, he was already in a bit of a spiral. He was newly divorced and had just retired from a teaching job he loved. Living in Truckee, Calif., a ski town on the outskirts of Lake Tahoe, he had become engulfed with loneliness. He was 68 and wrestling with his purpose in life. Now, faced with a diagnosis that sounded like a death sentence, he slipped into what he called a suicidal depression.

His spiral was palpable. After separate visits following their father’s diagnosis, his three children — Janai, Megan and Matthew — all left concerned.

“We were all really worried about him,” Matthew says. “Not just because of the cancer, but also the circumstances of him being alone up on the mountain, just going through that mostly by himself.”

The siblings remember comparing notes after visits. They all remarked how the house they grew up in — one filled with activity, laughter and lively discussion — had become so quiet.

“It was a house that was always filled with people, a very social place, and dad was always the one holding court,” Janai says. “And the contrast … was hard on all of us.”

By 2008, Meschery could no longer suppress his depression. With Matthew visiting, Meschery remembers halting the ironing of a shirt and blurting out to his son: I’m lonely.

Matthew made a suggestion.

Go online, Dad. Everybody does it.

So he put himself out there. The poet went on his first date.

“I wasn’t particularly impressed,” he sniffed.

His second foray on the dating site seemed improbable from the get-go. Her name was Melanie Marchant, and her profile picture was stunning. There is no way, he reasoned, that she is in her 60s; she looks 30. And it seemed too perfect that like he, she was creative, an accomplished painter located two hours away in Sacramento. For a month, they chatted online and on the phone. They talked about literature, cooking, her two children and his three.

On Valentine’s Day 2008, a first date was arranged at a Turkish restaurant in downtown Sacramento. As he hurried into the restaurant, late, she was waiting with the maitre d, toe-tapping in mock disgust. She playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

They exchanged cards. His card to her featured the poem Wild Geese by Mary Oliver. The poem represented his vulnerability, his willingness to be open.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.

Her card for him? A Valentine left over from one of her grandchildren, featuring Batman. Almost two decades later, it still humors him.

After dinner, they went to her place. She says she had a surprise for him. As they went up the stairs, he became enraptured. Lining the walls of the staircase were religious icons. He was taken back to his youth and his Russian Orthodox roots. Then, the surprise: she had rented “Ratatouille” — the animated movie about a rat who has a nose for cooking — which played off their frequent conversations about recipes and cuisine.

“And that was it, babe. I was in love,” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “As I drove back to the mountains that night, I knew this was going to be a lifetime relationship. I just knew that she and I were going to be together for the rest of our lives.”

One year after their first date, they were married.

She had been divorced for 30 years and says “if you go 30 years, you know when you find something.” They connected over their creative curiosities and their love of literature — she estimates in their first year of dating they spent between $2,000-$3,000 on books. And soon, she became his trusted editor. He figures she has edited 53,000 pages of his writing.

“I would go through his manuscripts and write “Booooooooring!” Melanie says chuckling. “But I think his writing is wonderful. I do worry when I ask him how he slept, and he says ‘Not well …’, because that means he has written another book in his head. He’s got three or four of them up there now.”

He says she has become his muse, but more accurately she has become somewhat of a life coach. She calls him Thomas and he calls her Mel, and they are constantly engaged in playful banter, trying to get the other to chuckle. One of her favorite pastimes is charting who she considers the most handsome players in the NBA (De’Aaron Fox, Steph Curry and Harrison Barnes top the current list).

However, she turns stern and blunt when it comes to his cancer. She is adamant that our bodies are not separate from our minds, and from the onset of their relationship, she has conditioned his mind to revel in the now rather than dread what could be ahead.

“When he told me he had cancer, I said, ‘Yeah? I know a lot of people who have cancer. When you are 70, people get cancer,’” Melanie says. “I don’t do drama. I don’t do sobbing. What I’m good at is, if there is a problem, it’s not a challenge. You just take it and solve it. And the man I met was so healthy and happy … he has cancer? Not today. That’s just how I felt.”

His mindset changed. He stopped thinking so much about the future and instead embraced what was in front of him. There was poetry to write, grandchildren to enjoy, dinners to be had and basketball games to watch.

“When I met Mel, I knew that I had found the love of my life,” Meschery says. “And from that point on, I became more positive about myself, about my cancer and about how long I would live. I just couldn’t whine about it with her, she wouldn’t stand it. She inspired me to just let it go, and trust my instincts.”

He is on a maintenance dose of Revlimid — 28 days on the drug, 10 days off — and every three months he has blood drawn to chart his cell count and presence of proteins. Every test since he has met Melanie has shown the cancer to be in remission.

“And we laugh about it: Another three months of putting up with me,” Meschery says. “It has become a much more casual conversation, almost like it’s not life-threatening anymore. And I think that was all her doing, which became my doing. It was like she passed on this belief system to me, and gave it to me as a gift.”

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NBA players from the 1960s would chuckle at the idea of Meschery as a poet, trumpeting the powers of love. To them, he was the Mad Manchurian, a 6-foot-7 bear of a man who was known for his intensity and physicality, which sometimes morphed into rage. He played power forward, and after 778 career games — six seasons with the Warriors, who moved from Philly to San Francisco in 1962, and four with the Seattle SuperSonics — Meschery averaged 12.7 points and 8.6 rebounds. But as his nickname suggests, he was as known for his temperament as he was for his skill.

He once grabbed a chair during a game and chased Lakers center Darrall Imhoff into the stands. And he remembers fighting Philadelphia’s Chet Walker, and after both were ejected, charging at him in the back hallway.

He has yet to reconcile with the dichotomy between how he played and how he views himself. He addressed his unease in his last book of poetry, “Clear Path,” with the poem Rumors.

He writes of his wife on an airplane, and a passenger remarking to her that Meschery “was the meanest son of a b—- I’d ever seen play basketball.”

…there was my epitaph being written
at ten thousand feet above the earth
by a stranger who might have seen me play
or maybe not at all, and just heard from someone
else that I was mean. How rumors start. How unjust
a life can be, viewed through someone else’s eyes.

“It always shocked me that I often reacted so violently on the court,” Meschery says today. “I know in my heart I was not a violent man. But if you experience violence once in yourself, I think you are forever going to second guess the possibility that it is a part of your personality. And it can hang there for a lifetime. I can’t look in the mirror and see myself as a mean son of a b—-. But I know there was a part of me … and that poem was part of that reflection that I sensed, and regrettably so, that there is something in me that would allow anger to enter. And it’s not a good feeling.”

He also never bridged the barrier between him and his father, whom he loved but with whom he struggled to connect. His father wanted him to go into the military and never watched him play basketball, deeming it unworthy as a profession. He opened Meschery’s eyes to poetry, as he would recite poems in Russian at the dinner table, unafraid to weep. Meschery says one of the great regrets in his life is not arriving in time to say goodbye to his father before he died. In his first collection of poetry, “Nothing We Lose Can Be Replaced,” his piece entitled Tom Meschery is essentially a letter to his father, who once asked, ‘What kind of work is this for a man?’

Old immigrant, I admit all this
too late. You died before I could explain
newspapers call me a journeyman.
They write I roll up my sleeves
and go to work. They use words
like hammer and muscle to describe me
…father, you would have been proud of me:
I labored in the company of large men.

Meschery also recounted the night Chamberlain scored 100 points against the Knicks in 1962. Meschery started beside Chamberlain and played 40 minutes, amassing 16 points and seven rebounds. In the poem Wilt, he captured a viewpoint from the team bus: the contrast between a historic night of work on the hardwood and the ordinary, everyday life in the Pennsylvania countryside.

As a rookie I watched
Wilt score a century in one game
in Hershey, Pa., with the smell
of chocolate floating through the arena
…but mostly, what I remember about that game
is this: …on the bus driving through the dark Amish countryside,
outside a farmer in a horse and buggy,
hurrying home in the all
too brief light of his lantern

He has more than 100 poems published about sports and quips that he is subconsciously trying to match the 2,841 personal fouls for which he was whistled during his career. When asked if he ever reflects on the breadth and depth of his life’s work, he pauses, then equates measuring his life accomplishments to evaluating his poetry.

“I think I’ve done the best I could,” Meschery says. “If I look at life like a whole series of poetry … I can only pick out 15 or 20 poems out of the entire collection that I think are truly inspired poetry. I am just a poet. But I recognize I’ve written some really, really good poems. But I also recognize that a lot of my poetry is … meh. Not bad. Not awful. And that’s okay. I’m not unhappy about it. That’s a little bit the way life is.

“Can you look at your life and honestly say that most of your life has been inspired? Probably not. But you do pick out those moments when you did really good. And I think I’ve been able to do that. But at the same time, I’m not so egotistical to believe that every moment of my life has been a Kareem Abdul-Jabbar sky hook.”

---

Another force helped pull Meschery out of his malaise following his cancer diagnosis. It was a friend from long ago, one with whom he hadn’t kept in touch: basketball.

In 2006, Matthew, concerned about his father’s well-being, bought him NBA League Pass, a subscription that provides coverage for every NBA game. By then, basketball had become an afterthought for Meschery. He had not been involved in the NBA since 1976 when he finished a two-year stint as an assistant under Lenny Wilkens in Portland. And he hadn’t been involved in basketball period since 1985, when he went to West Africa to coach teams in Mali, Ivory Coast, Gabon and the Republic of the Congo.

When he tuned in, his interest in the NBA was rekindled. He was drawn to his former team, the Warriors, and that 2006-07 team — an uptempo, free-wheeling and stylistic squad coached by Don Nelson and led by Baron Davis, Monta Ellis, Stephen Jackson and Jason Richardson — stirred him. He was once again inspired by the game he once played.

“I hadn’t kept up with the NBA, but once I started watching this new version of basketball, I went crazy. I just loved it,” Meschery says. “The ball was moving … they were flying through the air … and I was just astounded these guys could do this stuff.”

Then, in 2010, under the new ownership of Joe Lacob, the Warriors reached out to Meschery. The organization wanted to reconnect with its past. Meschery, the first NBA All-Star not born in America, and the first Warriors player to have his number retired, was brought back into the fold. He was invited to games. Introduced to players. He rode in all four championship parades, including 2022, when Warriors star Klay Thompson spotted from the team bus Meschery riding on the parade route on Market Street. Thompson got off the bus, and while holding the Larry O’Brien Trophy, beelined for Meschery, wrapping him in a bear hug.

“There was a time when we were worried about my dad losing a sense of himself,” Matthew says. “Basketball was a big part of his life experience and who he is, and the Warriors helped bring that back.”

Before this season, the Warriors asked Meschery to write a poem to commemorate Golden State’s new City Edition uniforms, which paid homage to the San Francisco cable cars. Meschery recited Mason Street Line at the unveiling.

“When I think back on my cancer, love saved me and helped cure me,” Meschery says. “But I think the Warriors had a little something to do with it, too.”

---

There is nothing poetic about how the poet handles the moments when the inevitable thoughts come, the thoughts of dying, of the cancer eventually winning.

“I’d be lying if I told you I don’t think about it from time to time,” Meschery says. “I think anybody who reaches the age of 85 knows they don’t have much time left. But I don’t dwell on it.”

When those moments arrive, he finds he is usually in bed. “Then I have a little mantra I say to myself: Tom, you are not going to die tomorrow. And Tom, you are not going to die in the next week. And probably not for the next six months. More likely, not for another year. So f— it, get on with your life.”

Then, he says, he goes back to sleep, intent on seeing his grandchildren, seeing his latest works published, including his memoir “The Mad Manchurian in August, and in October the publication of “The Case of the VW Hippie Bus,” the third installment in his Brovelli Brothers mystery novels.

In the meantime, he spends most of his nights watching the Warriors, or the Kings. Melanie, who turned 80 on Sunday is often nearby, flipping pages of the latest book she is reading, pausing briefly to make a quip or note the handsomeness of an opposing player.

“I call her my basketball buddy,” Meschery says. “And she says, ‘That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.’”

The point is no longer how long he will live, he says, but rather doing what is enjoyable and productive. That he has found love with Melanie, and in turn found his muse and purpose, gives him a bittersweet vantage on his sunset.

“I think it makes you fear death more,” he says. “I’m really going to miss living. The idea of not seeing my grandchildren, the idea of not being able to write a poem, to enjoy a meal … that can be quite terrifying. But you can’t live your life worrying about death.”

And so he continues to appreciate living. And laughing. And loving. And ever the poet, he continues writing.

It was three years ago when Meschery wrote the poem 2,841 Personal Fouls. It has little to do with his basketball career, and more to do with his love story. In the poem, he laments that the “thought of dying still pisses me off” and he equates his anger to the unfairness he felt with many of the 2,841 fouls for which he was whistled. But he counters with the outlook Melanie has so ingrained in him.

This morning, didn’t I wake up to sunlight
and a warm breeze? Didn’t my wife
poke her head into the office
to tell me she loved me? I flavor
my coffee with honey that is sweet as life.
I should live a little longer.

(Top photo: Max Whittaker for The Athletic)

TORONTO – Head north out of downtown on Bayview Avenue and past the shops and bars in Leaside, plus four Tim Hortons. Cross a bridge and climb a hill and there’s Crescent School, a private all-boys institution opened in 1913. It’s closed for winter break, but a courtyard plaque points to reception. A groundskeeping vehicle is parked in front and a delivery guy walks out. Somewhere inside lies another story about how the impossibility of Zach Edey came to be. Another tall tale.

So it’s worth a knock on the door.

After an introduction to Sal the maintenance guy and an explanation for the visit, it’s a stroll down some stairs and into the Lower School. Pencil sketches and old team pictures hang in the hallway. Straight ahead? A basketball gym. Where an anomaly came into view.

Edey is, of course, currently the 7-foot-4, 300-pound All-American anchor for second-ranked Purdue. But he’s also the kid who dreamed of being a hockey defenseman. The preteen who stumbled into a stellar youth baseball career. The high school sophomore who learned basketball shooting form by balancing a water bottle on a clipboard. The quiet Toronto boy who left home for an academy in Florida, who ranked 436th in his recruiting class and who now likely will repeat as national player of the year. The star who should not be.

Here, in a space with green bleachers and the words RESPECT, RESPONSIBILITY and HONESTY ringing the floor, is where the last part started.

Edey’s local club team was practicing at Crescent School, right before a tryout for the high-profile Northern Kings AAU program. Vidal Massiah, the Kings’ director, had been tipped off by his sister about a giant roaming area courts, and Massiah came to see for himself. After Edey’s two ensuing workouts with the Kings, his mother asked for a verdict. Massiah was blunt.

He’s an NBA player. Get ready for this movie.

“His story is a Canadian story,” Massiah says, driving away from the school on a sunny but wind-whipped winter morning. “It only happens here.”

Chapter 1: On the ice

Chesswood Arena sits in an industrial park in North York, abutting train tracks and sharing a parking lot with a garage door company and luggage wholesalers, among others. It was built in the 1950s. Still looks like it, too, and gloriously so. Weather and time have stripped away most of the color on a tower sign next to the entrance. The building marquee itself features three rows of hand-set letters.

WELCO ME TOCHESSWOODARENA, the top row reads.

This is the home of the top-level, triple-A Toronto Red Wings youth hockey program – “A tradition since 1955,” according to a banner – but it contains four NHL-sized rinks with ads for Dr. Flea’s Flea Market and Little Pearls pediatric dentistry. Golden Glide Hockey operates from a modest space tucked next to a synthetic ice surface on the second floor. Sometime in 2010, word arrived about a massive 8-year-old kid playing house league hockey in Leaside. He was raw, but no one could get around him. Al Rourke, a former NHL defenseman coaching the Toronto Penguins team via Golden Glide, said to bring the kid out for a look.

In walked Zach Edey, a shade under 6 feet at the time. “I said right away, ‘You’re on the team,’” Rourke says, sitting at a desk with a wall of Post-it notes to his left. “I also told his parents, ‘You should put a basketball in his hands.’”

Not a directive young Toronto boys follow easily. Coach, he loves hockey, is all Rourke heard from Julia and Glen Edey. He shrugged. The kid was polite. Always on time. And while he probably wasn’t quick enough for triple-A competition, Zach Edey was plenty good at double-A, if only because a very long arm held a very long stick and could stop a rush with one poke.

So he was a hockey player. Who scared everyone.

By Edey’s third year, he was taller than his 30-something coach, and that was before lacing up skates. “They see him walk in, and other teams would be like, ‘What is happening? We gotta play against this guy?’” Rourke says. Size, though, became more of a source of humor or frustration than an asset. Early on, Glen Edey asked Rourke, who was listed as a 6-2, 215-pound blueliner during his playing days, if he had any old skates he could pass down, since Zach was already in men’s sizes. Rourke brought in a top-end pair, and the next day, Glen returned them.

“Al, he can’t wear these,” Zach’s father told the coach.

“Glen, these are professional skates,” Rourke replied. “These are good f—— skates.”

That wasn’t it, Glen assured him. “They don’t fit.”

Likewise, Edey’s elbows weren’t where most people’s elbows were. So while Rourke coached Edey to keep his arms tight and ride an offensive player off the puck – checking wasn’t permitted yet when Edey started with the Penguins – the slightest flinch meant connecting with an opponent’s head and a trip to the penalty box. “Even if a kid runs into him, he’d get a penalty for elbowing or interference or something stupid when it’s not his fault,” Rourke says. “He’s just way bigger.”

But if you’re looking for reasons Edey has uncommon skill and so swiftly picked up the pace on the court, maybe start on the ice. “You got all this stuff going on and you have guys trying to knock your head off at the same time,” says Steve Taylor, one of Edey’s close friends’ father, who coached both boys in middle-school club hockey. “Comparatively speaking, hockey feels way more frenzied. … And, physically, the lower-body strength along with the coordination – I don’t think there’s anything you could do that’s better (training).”

Baseball soon became the next dominant passion, and though Edey continued to play some hockey, he mostly outgrew it – though not before one memorable shift.

One night, the Penguins’ starting goalie was sick. So Rourke dispatched Zach Edey into the net against the best double-A team in the area. He gave up six or seven scores, as his coach recalls, though watching Edey drop into a butterfly, with pucks careening off him, still gives Rourke a chuckle.

He notes, in fact, that NHL rules permit goalies of a certain size to wear larger and bulkier gear. “Imagine him in a net right now?” Rourke says. “Wouldn’t be a bad play.”

Chapter 2: On the diamond

The Edeys arrived for a youth soccer event to find 80 or 90 baseball players scattered about Oriole Park, a small collection of tennis courts and playgrounds with one dirt diamond. This was a tryout for North Toronto travel baseball, looking to fill three new entry-level teams. To bide time, the family sat at a picnic table in deep right field. They were out of the way but not enough to go unnoticed. Soon, one of the baseball parent-coaches running the workout jogged over and inquired about the boy who looked a foot taller than everyone else.

Zach Edey was, in fact, 8.

“Your kid is playing baseball,” Jeff Wolburg declared.

No, no, Julia Edey insisted. They were there for soccer.

Wolburg was unmoved. He coaxed Zach into joining his group, handed him a glove and ran Edey through drills for the next two or three hours. It was the first time Edey played the sport. Wolburg put him on the 8U roster anyway. The Edeys once again protested. After three or four days of phone calls, Wolburg’s buying the kid a jersey with his name on it and promising Glen Edey an assistant coaching spot, the family relented. North Toronto had a new first baseman. Who showed up at tryouts planning to play soccer. “And five years later, (Julia) always came back to that one story,” Wolburg recalls. “‘You brought me into this life!’”

A limited future on the ice made hockey fairly easy to leave behind. But Zach Edey was good at baseball. Really good. By the time he was competing for the Leaside Leafs as a 13- and 14-year-old, he was throwing 70 to 75 miles per hour and occasionally launching balls over the left field fence at Talbot Park and onto bustling Eglinton Avenue. Playing college baseball in the United States wasn’t a wild fantasy.

When Edey stopped at the 15U level, Wolburg thought it was a mistake. “He was a very shy, introverted kid, and baseball brought out a different side of him,” Wolburg says. “It was like a different life. Going to school, nobody would talk to him, he’d be reading in the corner somewhere. But playing sports? In baseball, he was on just a crazy upward scale of getting better and better. He loved that feeling of hitting. This giant kid, just smashing the s— out of the ball.”

He also admits he hadn’t been paying attention to the other sport entering Edey’s life.

The boy, it turns out, had another foot to grow. And someone finally put a basketball in his hands.

Baseball, then, was a dress rehearsal for what came after on the court: Rudimentary instruction and a growth curve accelerated by Edey’s underrated athleticism and unrelenting curiosity.

He was planted at first base due to his preposterous wing span and an easy task: Catch everything. At the plate, his instructions were similarly plain: Crush the ball. There was plenty of swing-and-miss, particularly with a bat path that was more like taking an ax to a tree stump. But woe to those on the field when Edey connected.

“He probably injured, I’d say, 15 kids along the way,” Wolburg says. “Not on purpose, obviously. They just got in the way. If they didn’t catch the ball cleanly, it would hit them in the knee or the chest or sometimes the head. And it would hurt.”

Refinement came with age and an inquisitive mind. “His baseball IQ was top of the charts,” Wolburg says. On the mound, that meant less reliance strictly on fastballs and exploring how to get more spin on pitches and how to throw a proper changeup. Edey took hitting lessons from a premier local instructor. He was devoted to a future on the diamond. His size, essentially, detoured him again. But not before everyone could see who Zach Edey might be. While he plays college basketball with a mercilessness– and while it serves him and Purdue well – there’s a gentility at his core, too.

During one 12U baseball game, Edey drilled a batter in the arm. The kid dropped to the dirt in agony. Coaches and parents rushed to his aid.

After 10 minutes or so, the umpire approached Wolburg.

“Coach,” he said, “you had better go look at the mound.”

Wolburg turned. Zach Edey was sitting in the dirt, crying his eyes out.

“He was upset for days after that,” Wolburg says.

Chapter 3: On the court

Before ninth grade, Magnus Taylor decided he wanted to play basketball. Steve Taylor, who played some university-level hoops himself, was thrilled by his son’s news. Thus the North Toronto Huskies were breathed into life. There was one imperative, though: They had to get Magnus’ good friend Zach.

For about 30 or 40 minutes one afternoon, Steve Taylor sat with his son and the extremely large human they’d known since preschool and explained the plan. He asked Zach Edey if he’d like to join his team.

Edey said no.

The next fall, with another season approaching, and with Edey having dabbled in high school hoops, Taylor revisited the conversation. The pitch lasted about an hour. He invited Edey. Again.

Edey said no. Again.

This time? Taylor had a backup idea. He suggested Edey join a Huskies practice, if only to get in shape for baseball. Edey agreed. Taylor told his wife to find the largest available jersey and order it. He picked up Edey and drove him to his first workout with the Huskies, on a Tuesday night at Crescent School. It happened to be a night the regular players were … not great. Taylor lost his patience. He ran his team. Hard. At one point, he looked over at the giant teenager galloping from end to end and gasping for air and it occurred to him: I blew it.

Halfway through the drive home, crammed into the passenger seat of an Audi, Edey delivered his review.

These basketball practices? Way more fun than baseball practices.

Two nights later, Edey stood on the Taylors’ porch, ready to go.

“We had to almost trick him into it, but once he got the bug, man, he never looked back,” Taylor says. “It says a lot about him, too – we ran the kids into the ground that Tuesday night. And he never complained. … He saw he had work to do, and he started doing the work.”

Edey had to learn proper basketball, all the way down to balancing that water bottle on a clipboard for 10 minutes before practices, to get his elbow cocked correctly. But there’s growth, and there are beanstalks shooting through clouds. Edey fixed a right-to-left swipe on his follow-through in one workout. He played in a country-wide All-Star game by December.

Moving Edey from a club hoops startup into a youth basketball flume required only a couple more twists: Vidal Massiah’s sister showed up for her son Elijah’s high school game. She saw a monstrous Leaside High center at the free-throw line. She snapped a picture and sent it to her brother. After the game, Massiah’s other nephew, Ethan, collected Edey’s contact info. “My uncle is going to help you a lot,” Ethan told him.

Once the Edeys returned the calls, the assistant coaches headed out to scout. Their feedback was the same: They just weren’t sure.

“No one saw it,” Massiah says.

Then the Northern Stars director walked into the Crescent School gym. He sat with Glen Edey in the bleachers and probed a man-child’s athletic history. He watched a neophyte change ends well for his size. He saw a patient approach at the free-throw line and surprising touch for a kid whose experience could be measured in months. He thought about the time he guarded Yao Ming.

He asked himself: What will this look like in a couple years?

“All the positives were more in the vein of, he’s an athlete, at the end of the day,” Massiah says. “He doesn’t have these particular skills because he hasn’t trained in this sport. That was it. It was easy to understand. The skills can be taught.”

Edey split time with the two club teams – Taylor knew the Kings would provide exposure he couldn’t – and it was another beginning. Edey had to relearn things in the context of highly competitive basketball with highly skilled teammates.

The Kings coaches started with passing, because they knew defenders would be flying at Edey and he had to be confident in his decisions. His offensive repertoire was limited to working from the left block and going to his right hand; if he was on the right block, he wasn’t getting the ball.

To understand defensive timing, Edey analogized it to the angles he’d take as a hockey defenseman, and Massiah nodded along. “That’s what this is,” the coach replied, emphasizing how Edey had to beat opponents to spots to recover without fouling. By Edey’s second year, he understood the offense thoroughly enough that the Kings ran sets through him. “His ability to process information and implement coaching was through the roof,” Massiah says. “Every question was a good question.”

Days before Canada Basketball convened a 2018 tryout for its world championship teams, Michael Meeks received a text message. Massiah had a really tall kid the organization had to see, which was truer than he knew: Meeks, an assistant general manager for sports performance, had been looking for Zach Edey for a while. He’d walk into a gym and miss the kid by an hour, or pick the wrong day to see a game. But now here the myth was, in the flesh, at last.

“I’m like, ‘It’s the unicorn,’” Meeks says.

Edey was far too raw to make a roster. But the first impression was a thunderbolt. “One thing I immediately saw, that put him way ahead of even tall kids his age, was his hands,” Meeks says. “He had the softest touch around the basket. His form looked great. He didn’t mind contact. I knew then he was going to be special. Like, special.”

Zach Edey wouldn’t be that hard to find, ever again.

He left the low ceiling of Leaside basketball behind and enrolled at IMG Academy in 2018. He went from the B team to consensus All-American and national college player of the year in five seasons. He might be a first-round NBA Draft pick after six, having backed up his breakout junior year by averaging 23.7 points and 11.8 rebounds and, as of Monday, leading the nation in Win Shares (7.2) on a Final Four contender. Given that Team Canada has qualified for the Summer Olympics,  Edey is a decent bet to be in Paris if whatever pro franchise drafts him is amenable. Everyone is running out of questions.

There’s just one more worth reliving, as he moves front and center for one more run at deliverance in March.

As Edey’s basketball future crystallized, his coaches discussed possible American college destinations. Massiah brought up a school in the Midwest with a long history of developing big men.

Purdue, Massiah suggested, could be an ideal fit.

As usual, Zach Edey wanted more info.

“What’s a Purdue?” he asked.

(Illustration: Daniel Goldfarb / The Athletic; photos: Jeffrey Brown / Icon Sportswire; courtesy of Julia Edey via Purdue)

SAN FRANCISCO — The motivational message, courtesy of the great Larry Bird, came at the perfect time.

Klay Thompson was just a few days removed from the unwelcome start of his sixth-man life in Utah, where the 34-year-old Warriors legend had been asked to come off the bench after the previous 12 years as a starter. Even with Thompson’s spectacular debut in this new reserve role, a 35-point showing on Feb. 15 that helped lift Golden State over the Jazz heading into the All-Star break, this was the kind of career-changing decision that would take much more time to truly accept. The emotions were still raw.

This was already a sensitive situation too, what with Thompson and the Warriors having been unable to come to terms on an extension in recent months and his free agency looming this summer. And now, with all those existential questions about value and mutual respect front and center already, here he was being asked to sacrifice for the greater good of the group.

An unexpected morale boost from the Basketball Gods, in other words, was badly needed.

As Thompson would learn by way of Warriors PR man Raymond Ridder, and would eventually see for himself on that cellphone video that will be cherished and saved in his digital archives for all of time, Bird had spent part of his All-Star Weekend in Indianapolis speaking with great admiration about him.

The remarks took place at the annual Tech Summit, where Bird shared the stage with famed broadcaster Bob Costas for a wide-ranging basketball conversation that shifted in Thompson’s direction when the Celtics great was asked about which players he enjoyed watching. Then Bird, who shared the NBA Finals stage with Klay’s father, Mychal, when the Lakers won it all in 1987, waxed poetic about the five-time All-Star who was missing on the festivities for a fifth consecutive season.

“Klay Thompson has always been one of my favorite players,” Bird said. “What an incredible shooter.”

Bird went on to share his memories of Thompson’s incredible Dec. 5, 2016, performance against his Indiana Pacers in which he scored 60 points in three quarters — while dribbling the ball just 11 times.

“How do you that, Bob?” Bird, who headed the Pacers front office at the time, said to Costas as his voice rose in disbelief. “How do you do that? … That’s pretty incredible to me.”

For Thompson, who grew up in Los Angeles hearing all those stories about the rivalry between Bird’s Celtics and the Showtime Lakers, the sight of Larry Legend speaking with amazement about his career for a grand total of 37 seconds was nothing short of profound. After all, as those close to him know, his desire to feel appreciated has been a central theme in this trying season of change and self reflection.

“It’s very nice to be reminded, especially from someone like Larry, who I not only looked up to but who I heard about my whole life — especially from my dad,” Thompson told The Athletic. “I watched the Showtime Lakers versus those Celtics teams, and it was just a really cool thing to hear. To hear him going out of his way to say that meant so much to me. Ray sent me the clip, and I’m gonna keep that clip forever.”

As Thompson shared publicly back on Feb. 5 after a game at Brooklyn, when he was so honest and vulnerable about how hard this late-career transition to a lesser role has been, these past few months have been an emotional roller coaster the likes of which he has never felt. It wasn’t the first time he’d chosen to be so open about his truth, either, as he talked at length in early January about the importance of him finding a way to maintain positive energy even when he’s struggling.

Thompson is hardly alone when it comes to this sort of crossroads, with future Hall of Famers such as Russell Westbrook, Kevin Love and his Warriors teammate Chris Paul among those who made the shift to a reserve role earlier than expected in recent years. Andre Iguodala, of course, went down in Warriors lore because of his willingness to make the move gracefully in 2014 en route to them winning three titles in the next four seasons. Carmelo Anthony’s ill-fated final few years were considerably less successful. For better or worse, it’s a hoops tale as old as time.

But given the mood of the moment for Thompson, who lost those two seasons with ACL and Achilles injuries and worked his way back with dreams of returning to his All-Star level, the Bird video was an assist of sorts during an otherwise-challenging time. Especially when the criticism, both in social and mainstream media, has become such a staple of his late-career experience.

This latest chapter has gone mostly well, though, with Thompson adding a dynamic dimension to the Warriors’ second unit that is expected to welcome Paul back after his 21-game absence (fractured hand) Tuesday at Washington. That development alone — the notion of two future Hall of Famers coming off the bench to share the backcourt — has Thompson excited about the possibilities here.

Even in the games where Thompson’s shots aren’t falling, like the home win over the Los Angeles Lakers on Thursday in which he missed eight of nine from the field but had a plus-2 rating, the lifelong sharpshooter is being lauded for his ability to make an impact in other ways. His fast chemistry with young big man Trayce Jackson-Davis, in particular, has been a bright spot.

There have been vintage Klay moments already too, like his showing in Salt Lake City and the 23-point first half against the Denver Nuggets on Sunday (though he went scoreless in the second half). In these first four games in this new role, Thompson is fourth on the team in minutes (27.1 minutes per game), second in scoring (18.1 points) and fourth in plus-minus (plus-13). Overall this season, Thompson is averaging 17.1 points (his lowest total since his 2012-13 season) while on pace for career lows in overall (41.8) and 3-point (37.2) shooting percentage.

The key revelation for the Warriors (29-27), who have won 10 of their last 13 games while creeping back into Play-In Tournament territory, is that Thompson doesn’t see this new assignment as any sort of disqualifier when it comes to his Warriors future. And while Thompson plans on listening to pitches from other teams, it’s clear that staying put is still his preferred option — so long as he feels appreciated and respected in ways that go beyond the financial factor.

“Not really,” Thompson said when asked if the sixth-man assignment might change his desire to return. “I mean, you’ve still got to examine all of your options, but I would love to be a Warrior for life. Whatever happens though, I’ve got a few more years to play this game, so I’m gonna enjoy every second. I realize that I see light at the end of the tunnel, (and) I’m not sure if I want to play until I’m 40, man. That sounds really exhausting.”

That last part appears to qualify as a change of heart, as Thompson had previously expressed a desire to play until he was 40 in the summer of 2019 (during his ACL recovery and before his Achilles tendon tear). When asked to confirm that this reserve role wasn’t a deal-breaker when it comes to him possibly re-signing with the Warriors, he repeated the stance.

“Nah,” he said.

Yet in terms of the bigger-picture outlook, the fact remains that Thompson is the only member of the Warriors’ celebrated core whose contract situation has not been resolved. Steve Kerr’s recent extension (two years, $35 million) lined him up with Steph Curry (signed through the 2025-26 season), and Draymond Green received his four-year, $100 million deal last summer. Even before you dig into the personal dynamics, with Thompson well within his right to wonder if the Warriors truly see him as part of their future, that sort of contractual landscape is inevitably uncomfortable given all they’ve accomplished together.

It hasn’t helped matters that the departure of longtime front-office head Bob Myers last summer left a communication gap of sorts between Thompson and Warriors owner Joe Lacob behind the scenes. Publicly, Lacob has maintained a consistent desire for Thompson to remain. Even with the daunting luxury tax ramifications that loom so large.

Thompson always knew he would likely have to wait until his free agency arrived this summer, what with Lacob’s well-chronicled hopes of ducking under the second (and possibly first) luxury tax apron compelling them to let the roster landscape fully unfold before adding salary. But it’s clear their relationship has suffered some strain along the way, with league sources indicating that Thompson has received no assurances from on high that his hopes of retiring happily in a Warriors jersey someday will be a shared priority this summer. Both sides, it seems clear, have no clarity about what might happen when that time rolls around.

In the here and now, though, Thompson insists he’s in a good place.

“I’m doing great,” he said. “I think I’m doing much better in not putting my identity in my performance, especially after 11 years of NBA basketball. That alone is an incredible accomplishment. And to be out here and still be playing and having fun and being healthy, that trumps any big shooting night or 50-40-90 milestones.

“It took me a long time to realize that, but once I finally did, my game has been much better. I’ve been so much more at ease and realizing that, ‘Gosh, this is such a cool opportunity for me.’ Guys would kill to be in my shoes, even with all the injuries and all that. The heights we’ve reached are rare, so it’s been awesome.”

When it comes to how Thompson has been handling this transition, a quick trip around the Warriors locker room on Sunday night yielded positive feedback. Warriors big man Kevon Looney, who started for most of the past two years before being moved to a reserve role in late January, made the point that the timing of it all made it even tougher for Thompson.

“I think he’s handling it extremely well,” Looney told The Athletic. “I wasn’t sure how he was gonna handle it, especially during the midseason. It wasn’t like (he had) a talk (with the coaches) in training camp, where you’re able to prepare yourself for something like that. It’s a midseason (decision), so I didn’t know how he’d handled it.

“But he’s been more than great. He hasn’t been complaining. I think that (aspect) has probably been even better. He showed his frustration early in the season … (but now) he’s been a great teammate, great leader. And when one of your Hall of Fame players shows that type of leadership, everybody has to kind of follow suit. Nobody can be mad about their role or the minutes they’re getting.”

With the need to maximize youngsters Jonathan Kuminga and Brandin Podziemski more crucial than ever, and the recent results validating that approach, the Warriors’ roster is now full of veterans who are being asked to accept far different roles.

“You’ve got Klay, guys like CP and Wiggs (Andrew Wiggins), who are bona fide Hall of Famers and All-Stars, buying in like that, so everybody else has to buy in,” Looney said. “(But) we can’t win without him being good or without him being a key piece. Whether that’s starting or off the bench, we’re not contending without him being special.

“We all care about him. We all want him to succeed. We all want him to be great. So when he’s not doing well or his energy’s not great, it kind of weighs on everybody else. He knows that. Steve talked to him about that (in early January), and I think he’s been great for the last 20, 30 games. I think that kind of changed our season, changed the way that we’ve been playing.”

Kerr, who once persuaded Iguodala to embrace this sixth-man life and appears to have done it yet again with Thompson, raved about his recent handling of it all as well.

“He’s been great,” Kerr said. “His approach feels so much better than it was even a few weeks ago. This has been an emotional season for him. You guys know this. He’s been grappling with his mortality in some ways as an athlete. He knows how good he was six years ago, and he’s had a hard time reconciling everything after the injuries.

“The thing that we keep trying to convince him of is he’s still a hell of a player. But he’s at his best when he’s not pressing and he’s not stressed out (or) worried about trying to be the guy he was six years ago. I think coming off the bench has maybe helped in that regard. I just notice he’s more relaxed. His approach, his leadership in the locker room, it feels different, and I think he’s starting to get more comfortable with the role but also just kind of the bigger picture stuff that has been bothering him.”

And on those days when the doubts and frustration might return, he’ll have the Bird video just a few screen swipes away to lift his spirits.

“It’s on my phone,” Thompson said with a smile. “I’ll put that (compliment) in the same category as when Kobe (Bryant) called me and Steph great players with that killer instinct (in 2016). It means the world to me.”

(Photo of Klay Thompson: Thearon W. Henderson / Getty Images)

For the first time in his 11-year career, Giannis Antetokounmpo is going through a season defined by change.

In his time with the Milwaukee Bucks, Antetokounmpo has seen it all. He’s been through two ownership changes, five coaching changes and innumerable roster changes. He’s seen in-season trades, offseason moves and everything in between.

But never has one season featured so much instability.

Look at everything that has transpired since the last time Antetokounmpo returned to Milwaukee from the NBA All-Star Game.

On April 14, 2023, right before last season’s playoffs, the NBA Board of Governors approved the Bucks ownership share purchase by Haslam Sports Group. Two weeks later, after an injury that sidelined Antetokounmpo for two and a half games, the No. 8 Miami Heat upset the No. 1 seeded Bucks in five games. A week after the loss to the Heat, the Bucks parted ways with head coach Mike Budenholzer. A month after firing Budenholzer, the Bucks officially hired head coach Adrian Griffin on June 5, 2023.

But it didn’t stop there. At the end of September, just days before the start of this season’s training camp, the Bucks pulled off the stunning trade for All-Star point guard Damian Lillard. A month later, Antetokounmpo signed an extension to remain with the Bucks through the 2026-27 season.

Then, after an uneven and sometimes chaotic start to the season, the Bucks dismissed Griffin on Jan. 23 and hired Doc Rivers as their new head coach three days later. As the Bucks return from the All-Star break, they are looking to find their footing with a new coach in a season unlike any that Antetokounmpo has experienced before.

In a wide-ranging, exclusive interview with The Athletic heading into the All-Star break, Antetokounmpo reflected on it all: the ill-fated Griffin chapter, the need for him to become a more vocal leader during these challenging times, the early days with Doc Rivers, his relationship with Damian Lillard and the constant theme of change that has surrounded these past 10 months.

“It’s been hard because so many changes, so many injuries, so, so many things,” Antetokounmpo told The Athletic. “A lot of things, up and down. Changes, as I said, game plan, structure, all of the BS.

“We can start from f—— ownership, changed. Coach, changed. Coach, changed again. Star players, changed. From Khris being in and out. Like so much f—— s—. It’s just up and down. Up and down. So many things changing, man. But we got to stay together, I don’t like to victimize myself. I don’t like to feel bad about myself. That’s not who I am.”

Despite the tumult, Antetokounmpo has managed to put together one of his best individual seasons.

He’s averaging more than 30 points per game (30.8) for just the second time in his career, with the first coming last season. He is also averaging a career-high 6.4 assists and 11.2 rebounds. On top of that, Antetokounmpo has played in 54 of the Bucks’ 56 games this season in Year No. 11. That puts him on pace to play 79 games, which would be the most games he has played since appearing 80 games in his fourth NBA season.

If Antetokounmpo ends the season with those numbers, he would join Oscar Robertson as the only player in NBA history with per-game season averages of 30 points, 11 rebounds and six assists (Robertson posted those numbers – 30.8 points per game, 12.5 rebounds and 11.4 assists – while averaging a triple-double in the 1961-62 season).

On top of that, this has been the most efficient season of Antetokounmpo’s career, posting career highs in effective field goal percentage (62.7 percent) and true shooting percentage (65.1 percent). He has eliminated most of the 3-point attempts from his repertoire and his rim finishing looks an awful lot like it did during his first MVP season in 2019.

In that season, Antetokounmpo took a career-high 66 percent of his shots at the rim and made 81 percent of those attempts, according to Cleaning the Glass. This season, Antetokounmpo is once again taking 66 percent of his shots at the rim, tying his career-high, and making 78 percent of those attempts, while dunking significantly less than he did in the 2018-19 season.

Yet, at this point in Antetokounmpo’s storied career, his seasons are judged by team success. It’s a reality that the Bucks forward understands and accepts. With so many individual accolades, the two-time MVP and eight-time NBA All-Star forward knows his seasons will only be viewed as successful if the Bucks not only compete for championships but win the whole thing.

And that, as he sees it, means that Antetokounmpo must still find a way to do even more for this Bucks team that sits in third place in the Eastern Conference at 35-21, 8.5 games behind the first-place Boston Celtics.

“Personally, I have to keep on pushing,” Antetokounmpo told The Athletic. “If I have to talk more in the film sessions like I’ve been doing all year, if I have to f—ing grab the f—ing board and write something down — if I don’t, I don’t know — but you cannot just let opportunities like this go to waste.

“I feel like I don’t want to look back and be like, ‘Damn, I had some great teams and I wasn’t able to get over the hump.’ We have to stop feeling bad about ourselves. I’m tired of this. We have to stop doing that. Things are not going to be given to us. We have to go and take it. Like I’ve played with guys that never felt bad about themselves. Came in, did their job, went home, did their job, went home, did their job. That’s what we have to do. We’re not doing it right now, but hopefully we can do it.”

They certainly weren’t able to do it in the first half of the season. And Griffin, whose Bucks tenure began with a nod of approval from Antetokounmpo in the interview process, paid the price.

While the Bucks compiled a 30-13 record with him at the helm, players regularly spent their postgame media sessions discussing the team’s disorganization. Whether they were complaints of mismanaged end-of-game situations in Las Vegas or difficulties understanding what the team was trying to accomplish defensively in Houston, the Bucks lacked cohesion on both ends of the floor.

That led to Antetokounmpo putting more on his own shoulders as a leader, which included walking teammates through drills in practice, drawing up plays and diagramming actions more than he ever has in his career and being far more vocal as a leader.

“I just had to do it. I had to be more vocal this year,” Antetokounmpo said. “Things (weren’t) the way they were supposed to be, how can I say it? The last couple of years, I’m used to a specific structure of things, a specific culture, there’s a certain way that you have to do things in order for you to win games, you know?

“And if that level is not being met, as a leader, you have to push that envelope. Push everybody, your coaching staff, your teammates.”

Even with Antetokounmpo’s more vocal leadership, the Bucks couldn’t manage to get on the same page on both ends of the floor. So general manager Jon Horst, as well as the Bucks ownership group, decided to make a change and hired veteran head coach Doc Rivers to run the show.

Under Rivers, the Bucks won just three of their 10 games before the All-Star break, but that hasn’t materially changed what Antetokounmpo feels his new head coach has brought to him in Milwaukee.

“Some peace of mind,” Antetokounmpo said. “He’s tough. He’s Doc f—ing Rivers. He knows his s—. Same thing for Coach Bud. Same with Joe Prunty, J-Kidd. And Coach Griff was a great coach, a great person to work with, but, at the end of the day, it was his first time.

“He was figuring things out, how to lead a group of guys, how to operate with star players and sometimes, that might be hard. I think everybody did a good job. His coaching staff did a good job too, helping him and making him adjust and I think he did a tremendous job leading us to a 30-13 record, but Coach Doc has won 1,100 games. So it’s totally different.”

With a veteran coach at the helm, Antetokounmpo feels like quite a bit has been taken off of his plate.

“Now it’s almost like I don’t have to do that anymore,” Antetokounmpo said of the extra emphasis he had put on leadership to start the season under Griffin. “I just have to keep the guys together and try to go out there and try to win.

“Coach Doc, he’s a great guy, been in the league for a lot of years, won a lot of games. Like you go to bed, you sleep well at night. Win or lose, you know that the coaching staff is going to be prepared. And not just him, from Rex (Kalamian), from Dave Joerger, like come on, man, Joe Prunty, we have guys that are extremely smart and know the game of basketball. So, from that aspect, you don’t have to worry anymore.”

While Antetokounmpo might not feel like he needs to spend as much of his mental and emotional bandwidth organizing his teammates with Rivers leading, the Bucks are still far from being true title contenders. While they certainly have the talent to stick with any team when healthy, their form has been inconsistent throughout the season.

“It drives me crazy,” Antetokounmpo said. “It drives me crazy, I’m not gonna lie … Like, (against Denver), I felt like. ‘Hmm, we got something going on here.’ Now, (against Miami), I feel horrible. But there’s going to be ups and downs. We have to keep on working.”

“Coach Doc’s coached great players, he’s coached great teams. But our team is different, it’s unique. (There are) things that have been working and things that haven’t been working. They’ve added so many new things that we’re like, ‘Oh, s—. We can take advantage of this.’ And there are some things that we have to recover.

“We have to keep on evolving. We don’t have to change our identity. Of course, we gotta be stronger. We gotta be tougher. I have to play better. I have to see the game better. But we have to keep on evolving. We have to add coach Doc’s philosophy with what has been working and hopefully can create a great mix for the next 25 games that we have and compete in the playoffs.”

Improving the Bucks defense was one of Rivers’ top priorities when he took over in Milwaukee and he has accomplished that, despite facing one of the league’s toughest schedules over the two weeks before the All-Star break. During Rivers’ tenure, the Bucks have been the league’s 10th best defense. Under Griffin, they were 21st in defensive rating.

But while the team has found a higher level on defense, it has lost its way on offense. While the Bucks were second in offensive efficiency under Griffin, the Bucks have been 24th in the same category under Rivers, scoring 111.9 points per 100 possessions.

And while Rivers was adamant that the Bucks needed to be a good defensive team to compete for a championship this season when he first arrived in Milwaukee, the Bucks will need to find a way to be great on both ends.

If the Bucks want to contend for an NBA title this season, they need to pair great offense with great defense. And as Rivers emphasized when he took the job, the Bucks need to find a way to help Lillard perform at a higher level.

In 51 games with the Bucks, the 33-year-old point guard has put up 24.6 points, 4.6 rebounds and 6.7 assists per game – solid enough numbers to put him in position to start his first All-Star Game this past weekend – but as Lillard himself has discussed at length, it’s different than what he was able to do as the leader of the Portland Trail Blazers for the last decade.

Once Lillard became a high-usage, 25-point-per-game scorer in his fourth season, he averaged 27.5 points, 4.5 rebounds and 7 assists per game over the next eight seasons. He shot 44.3 percent from the field and 37.4 percent from behind the 3-point line during that span.

In Milwaukee, Lillard has made 42.3 percent of his shots from the field and only 34.1 percent from deep.

If the Bucks are going to transform into contenders this season, it will require getting more out of Lillard. No one knows that better than Antetokounmpo.

All season long, Antetokounmpo and Lillard have been peppered with questions about their pick-and-roll partnership. And while the Bucks have found success while running pick-and-rolls with Antetokounmpo and Lillard, after two-thirds of a season together, Antetokounmpo believes the Bucks still have more work to do to make that action more effective and a larger part of their offensive attack.

“It has to be organic,” Antetokounmpo said. “It can not just be, ‘Give the ball to Dame. Giannis set the screen. It’s going to work.’ It doesn’t work like that. While we are operating, guys have to be moving, keeping guys occupied. While the pick and roll is happening, guys have to change spots, so the load men are occupied. While things are going on, Brook’s gotta dive. While this is going on, somebody has to go for the offensive rebound. Like, that’s how it works.

“It’s not (as simple as) ‘You go set the screen’… The days that it is within the flow of the offense — I come set one, he hits me, I come back, I hit him — that’s when we’re finding success.”

For those things to happen organically, Antetokounmpo needs to find more ways for Lillard to find his offensive flow outside of just high pick-and-rolls with Antetokounmpo. As the season has progressed, Antetokounmpo has started to pick up on those tendencies.

“One of the things that I see, when I rebound, early in transition, throwing the ball ahead to Dame, it allows him to operate at a high level,” Antetokounmpo said. “From 3s, from driving the ball, getting and-ones, getting in the paint. Like when they’re loading (up) and you throw the ball ahead and you let him operate, it’s very good for him. It’s really, really good. Also, I try to set as many screens as I can for him to be able to operate.”

During the Bucks’ title-contending seasons, Antetokounmpo has worked regularly with Khris Middleton, his teammate of 11 seasons. And while Antetokounmpo thought part of the reason why he struggled to find pick-and-roll chemistry with Lillard through the first quarter of the season was their unfamiliarity with each other, he has since learned that might actually have more to do with Lillard’s tendencies and strengths in the pick-and-roll.

“The other thing is, you gotta give him space,” Antetokounmpo said. “You gotta give him space. Like he’s not like Khris, you don’t need to always set screens for him in order for him to get that little space to operate for the floater, for the mid-range, for the space for two, or the behind-the-screen three. Khris is kind of different.

“Sometimes, you need to set screens for Dame. Sometimes, you’ve got to give him space. When I come down and you see that I’m on the right side, he’s on the left side, I always throw the ball sideways to him because once they’re loading and I throw it there, he just operates. That’s been helping the team.”

Antetokounmpo and Lillard got a head start on the work that needs to be done in the final third of the season this past weekend as part of NBA All-Star festivities. Lillard had a massive weekend taking home both the NBA 3-Point Contest championship, as well as All-Star Game MVP, but as the veteran point guard laid out following the Eastern Conference’s win, the time they spent together might have been even more important than anything that happened on the court.

“When you go somewhere outside of your team with a teammate, you usually naturally turn to each other more, just a lot of conversation,” Lillard said. “I think it was just a positive weekend for us because we just had a lot of interactions.

“We were able to have conversations about where our team has been lately and what we want to do, how we can help each other better. When you can break away from not only the season and have All-Star break, but also break away from the team and be able to just be man-to-man and just bond like that, it’s always helpful.”

Now, they need to put what they learned over the weekend to use and figure out how to reach their full potential together before they start their first playoff journey together in two months.

In the end, as Antetokounmpo knows, Lillard simply must understand that the Bucks are now his franchise as well. But considering the massive part Antetokounmpo has played since arriving in Milwaukee back in 2013, and his place in Bucks lore after the 2021 NBA title, that sort of superstar balance has proven more evasive than the pair initially expected.

Antetokounmpo is the franchise’s all-time leading scorer. His personal logo adorns the hallway outside of the Bucks locker room in Fiserv Forum. He is, for all intents and purposes, the face of Bucks basketball.

For this to work, Antetokounmpo explained, Lillard needs to know that the best player in Bucks franchise history is ready to hand him the keys in the moments that matter most. And if the Bucks are going to compete for a championship this season, Lillard will need to take over just like he did during all those “Dame Time” years in Portland.

“I am his biggest fan,” Antetokounmpo said. “Good or bad, I ride with Dame until the f—ing end. I ride with Dame. Like I’ve been saying this over and over again. This. Is. His. Team. Down the stretch, he’s going to get the ball. There’s nothing else that we will do. I don’t know how else to put it. I don’t know what else to say.

“But at the end of the day, he has to believe it too.”

(Top photo of Giannis Antetokounmpo: Justin Ford / Getty Images)

SAN FRANCISCO — Nearly a year ago on the dot, Mike Dunleavy, the Golden State Warriors’ future general manager, and Kent Lacob, an ascending front office personnel voice, hopped in a car and made the quick 50 mile trip south to Santa Clara’s campus.

They were primarily there to see Maxwell Lewis, the possible lottery pick out of Pepperdine. Lewis played fine. He’d eventually get selected 40th in the 2023 NBA Draft. But he wasn’t the best player on the floor. Brandin Podziemski, a 6-foot-4 guard who was only beginning to creep onto the draft radar, made every significant play to lead Santa Clara to victory. His 23 points mattered. But it was the 18 rebounds that had Dunleavy’s and Lacob’s antennas up.

“Mike and I walked out of the game like, ‘Um, that guy might be a first-round pick,’” Lacob said.

Podziemski competed in the NBA Rising Stars Challenge at All-Star Weekend last Friday. He leads all NBA rookies with 14 games of at least 10 points, five rebounds and five assists, making him a clear candidate to finish on the All-Rookie first team.

He turns 21 this week, but has already pushed his way past Klay Thompson into the Warriors’ starting and closing lineups, a vital glue piece of head coach Steve Kerr’s favorite five-man group, which has outscored opponents by 57 points in 107 minutes.

The relationship between Podziemski and the Warriors can be traced to that February night. That’s when they first began to take Podziemski seriously as a prospect. In the ensuing 12 months — with a bunch of important inflection points along the way — he has won over every level of the organization, most crucially his veteran teammates.

Podziemski’s future surfaced recently in the visiting locker room in Salt Lake City. He’s a prototype role player right now, but has dreams of becoming an All-Star. There are roadblocks ahead and limitations to overcome. But anyone who has doubted Podziemski to this point has continually been proven wrong.

“The ceiling is high,” Draymond Green said. “He’s still learning. Still figuring s— out. But when you start looking at people who are going to succeed him…”

Green points three lockers down. Stephen Curry is getting dressed after torching the Jazz. Curry’s prime may extend until 40. But he turns 36 next month. When Curry is 40, Podziemski will be 25.

“It won’t look the same,” Green said. “Totally different. But you’re very comfortable when he’s out there on the court. That says a lot for a rookie on this team — that you feel the amount of comfort you do when he’s out there running the show.”

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The Warriors’ front office reconnected with Podziemski at the draft combine in Chicago in May. Most top prospects don’t do much court work. He tested out better than expected athletically and was already rising on boards, getting first-round buzz. Some in his position may have skipped the scrimmages. Podziemski didn’t.

“I got nothing to hide,” he told the Warriors brass, led by scouting director Larry Harris.

Podziemski then went out and crushed the scrimmage portion. His stock spiked again. In-person workouts cranked up. Podziemski traveled the country, intent on impressing. He went to Houston. Chuck Hayes, currently in the Warriors front office, was working for the Rockets at the time. He remembers Podziemski killing the workout while letting the gym know about it.

“BP,” Hayes called out before a recent game. “You remember talking trash to John Lucas in the Rockets workout?”

“Oh, yeah,” Podziemski replied.

Podziemski and Lucas, the former NBA point guard and legendary development coach, were arguing about who was the greatest lefty guard in the building. It was an early peek into the mindset that has earned Podziemski so much respect.

“He talk s— all day,” Green said. “That’s all he do.”

Podziemski thought he crushed his workout in Miami. He figured the Heat might draft him 18th. They went with Jaime Jaquez Jr., also a Warriors’ favorite. Golden State was up at No. 19. Podziemski thought he fit, but didn’t feel quite as optimistic about how he performed at his group workout in San Francisco. The Warriors were sure.

“He was great on the court,” Lacob said. “Like, really good. Clearly the best player in the workout.”

The Warriors then brought him into the film room and had him break down two games of tape. They don’t often learn much in these sessions. Podziemski was different. They slowed down some of his pick-and-roll decision-making against Gonzaga and defensive possessions.

“He could reference personnel on the other team,” Lacob said. “Names, tendencies, opponent actions. His memory recall was super impressive.”

Podziemski popped in the Warriors’ analytics model, put together by their vice president of analytics Pabail Sidhu. They value it with increased frequency. Podziemski’s 8.8 rebounds per game led his conference. That juiced the analytics model. When it was all wrapped together, Podziemski finished top-10 on the front office’s consensus final draft board.

“There was a belief that he was clearly a Steve Kerr system fit, but also a consensus belief it was more than that,” Lacob said. “The talent combined with the IQ and the personality was something to bet on.”

Cam Whitmore, considered a pre-draft top-five prospect, was still available at 19. So were plenty of other valued players. But the Warriors didn’t flinch. They took Podziemski. It was Dunleavy’s first draft selection as general manager. The room agreed on Podziemski.

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Green sprained his left ankle just before training camp. He missed about a month. In his ramp-up to return, the Warriors set up a scrimmage in Sacramento the morning of their second game. Podziemski was out of the rotation, so they had him play on Green’s team. They lost the first scrimmage after Green turned it over.

“We can’t have a turnover for game!” Podziemski told Green. “You cannot turn the ball over for game.”

Green was stunned. They’ve had rookies who barely say a word to him the entire season.

“I was like, ‘OK, cool, you got it. No problem,’” Green said. “Here we are playing a pick-up game, a game to get me ready and he’s yelling at me. That to me said a whole lot. I was like, ‘You know what? No problem. But make sure you speak up like that all the time.’”

The Warriors had an extended stay in Los Angeles during the preseason. They had some workouts on UCLA’s campus. After one practice, the guards set up a King of the Court style one-on-one. Score and stay. Podziemski was up against a group that included Curry and Chris Paul.

“We were at UCLA, right?” Paul asked Moses Moody. “When BP beat us in ones.”

“Yes,” Moody responded, grinning at the memory. The rookie was giving it to two of the greatest to ever do it at the point guard position and alerting anyone within earshot of the damage.

“He did the Tiger (Woods) fist-pump,” Paul said, shaking his head.

“‘Let’s f—g go!’” Curry remembers him taunting. “That was hilarious.”

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Podziemski’s first NBA taste was bitter. He struggled in summer league, mostly with his jumper and floater. The more he stewed, the more it snowballed.

“I had a little bit of doubt after summer league,” Podziemski admitted. “But the rest of that July period and August and September, I just attacked. I focused on what I needed to work on to be a role player on this team.”

Podziemski attended every team workout that Curry, Paul and Green organized across the summer. He was in the team facility on Aug. 1 and a mainstay almost every day after. He entered camp confident he could make some noise, even if most figured he’d spend the majority of the season in Santa Cruz with the Warriors G League affiliate.

Kevon Looney remembers the new rookie guard bashing into him and clawing over rebounds. He initially told Podziemski to quit stealing them away. Then he realized it was part of his game and attitude.

“I remember in those mini-camps, he’d be grumbling after scrimmages like, ‘Oh, I’m tired of losing,’” Looney said. “I was like, ‘You should just be happy you’re on the court.’ He’s like, ‘Nah, we gotta figure out a way to win. They need to pass me the ball.’ I’m like, ‘Uhh, I don’t know about that.’”

Looney saw a quote from Podziemski soon after the draft that said he wanted to be a triple-double guy.

“That’s pretty bold,” Looney said and laughed. “But I know most Wisconsin guards have this crazy confidence to them. (Jordan) Poole. Tyler Herro. He’s got a delusion to him that makes him good.”

Podziemski grew up in Milwaukee in what he describes as a “competitive” family where his father, John, and his mother, Barbara West, didn’t allow him to win at anything. He needed to earn it.

“From that competitiveness comes confidence,” Podziemski said. “Knowing how much you put into the game, why would you come in here nervous or timid?”

Podziemski stays extremely late after games. He strolls around the locker room and converses with anyone in his orbit. He tried to set up an NBA-related quiz after a game early in the season to get some spending money off Thompson and then compared their salaries when Thompson was hesitant. Thompson told him to stop “pocket-watching.”

“It’s easier to tame a lion than get a sheep to show some oomph,” Curry said. “The most annoying parts about him are the greatest parts about him. He’s still coachable. That’s a big part of it. You can say all that stuff but if you can’t accept coaching, that’s where it turns into being counterproductive.”

Podziemski trails Curry for postgame workouts and studies what makes him great. He might be the most active member of the team’s group chat, according to Green, and told Green he was coming for him via text messages.

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” Green warned. “I don’t play fair.”

Podziemski then sent a bunch of old photos of Green to the team, the funniest he could find.

“He was like: ‘Wham. Wham. Wham,’” Green said of the flood of texts and then remembered he hadn’t retaliated. “I still gotta popcorn his car.”

After a low-energy loss to the Heat in late December, a distraught Podziemski went to the podium and blamed himself as the biggest reason for the loss. Anyone who watched the game would’ve placed his decent performance far down the list. Curry went 3 of 15 shooting. Andrew Wiggins was in a slump. Defensive breakdowns were everywhere. But there he was pinning himself as the night’s wrongdoer.

“Geez,” Thompson said when he heard about it. “Dramatic, rookie.”

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Kerr has been most impressed with Podziemski defensively. In camp, they track deflections during scrimmages. Podziemski led the team. That was an early sign.

His rebounding numbers translated, which was particularly important for a team that leaned small. The Warriors are the third-best rebounding team in the NBA and Podziemski’s 5.8 rebounds per game in 26 minutes per game rank behind only Green and Looney. He gets on the glass more relentlessly than Wiggins and Jonathan Kuminga, their bigger wings.

“What this team has lacked, what it lacked last year, he gave us,” Kerr said. “The connection. The connector. The ball-mover. The cutter. There’s a feel and a recognition of what’s happening on the floor that makes him playable in any lineup. He enhances every lineup.”

The Warriors nearly blew a huge lead to the Spurs in late November. They won, but it was a bad overall performance and Podziemski’s first real stinker. He missed all five of his shots. Kerr entered the locker room postgame expecting the team to be down and Podziemski to be in hiding.

“I would have been holed up in my apartment for three days wondering if I’d ever make a shot again,” Kerr said of his younger self. “But I went in there and he was the most upbeat guy. I loved it. Because when you play poorly and still can bring team energy and maintain confidence and swagger, that’s a great sign.”

One of the more consequential plays of the Warriors’ season so far came in Portland in mid-December. They entered a wobbly 11-14, needing desperately to beat a bad Trail Blazers team. But Curry struggled and they were having a tough time putting the win away.

Curry missed a free throw with four seconds left. The Blazers, down two, didn’t call timeout. Shaedon Sharpe pushed the ball upcourt in a scramble drill. He had what appeared to be a path to the rim to tie it. But Podziemski stepped in front and took a game-winning charge. Here’s the possession:

Podz saves the day with a heads-up play pic.twitter.com/hsBjStzdye

— Warriors on NBCS (@NBCSWarriors) December 18, 2023

That was Podziemski’s 11th charge drawn. It has become his signature defensive move. He has drawn 27 this season, which leads the NBA. He tracks the leaderboard, knew who led the NBA in that category last season (Oklahoma City’s Jaylin Williams) and even mentions some of the greatest charge-takers in recent history when discussing it.

When discussing Podziemski’s defensive upside, Kerr compared him to Austin Reaves of the Lakers.

“Like when I coached Austin this past summer, what stood out to me most is just that there’s zero fear defensively. And he’s strong as s—. That’s what they have in common. They’re very similar (in) size. Six-four and really physically strong. That’s what you need, I think, in today’s game. The guys who struggle defensively are the guys who aren’t physically strong. If you’re going to be on the small side, you’ve got to be strong,” Kerr said.

Podziemski has, in a roundabout way, compared himself to Gary Payton II and Draymond Green this season, overly ambitious on its face but Payton and Green seem to understand the general point. He sees the floor and the patterns and has an appetite for disruption like both of them. But that comes with a downside. He roams.

“He gambles way too much,” Kerr said. “That’s great except we really only need one guy (Draymond) doing that. If you have two guys doing that, the defense will be screwed up. But I’ll take that any day over the guy who isn’t aware. The guy who isn’t aware is standing on the weak side while the guy is laying it in. He’s the opposite. He sees every cutter. He’s trying to help on everything. We just have to help him streamline and help him understand his job isn’t to do everyone else’s job.”

Adds Green: “He gets lost sometimes. But the reality is I used to get lost all the time. People may not remember, but they couldn’t play me on shooters for a long time. It’d be like we’re playing the Pelicans, I’d guard Anthony Davis. Then they’d switch Ryan Anderson or Nikola Mirotić and they’d be like: ‘We got to get Draymond out of the game.’”

Podziemski strayed too far off Jordan Clarkson during a recent game against the Jazz and learned the lesson on the bench from Payton, another high-risk gambler.

“He sees what Draymond does and tries to mimic it,” Payton said. “But I told him when you’re guarding a problem like Clarkson, you can’t roam as much as you’d like. Because it’s a swing, swing, high percentage catch-and-shoot. It’s all a feel.”

On the other end of the floor, Podziemski is a low-risk playmaker. In February, he has 52 assists and nine turnovers. In January, he had 41 assists and 12 turnovers. He had a 27-assist, 0-turnover four-game stretch recently that broke rookie records.

But his ultimate upside will be determined as a scorer. Podziemski’s shot diet is limited to 3s, floaters, sweeping hooks and sneaky layups. He stays out of the midrange and doesn’t live above the rim. He struggled with his 3 for some of the season but has made 12 of his last 19 to up his season percentage to 38.5 percent. He has scored in double-figures in 28 games this season, sixth-most among rookies, and hit 20 four times. If that can become a regular benchmark as he nears his prime, the ceiling will continue to rise.

“I want to be an All-Star,” Podziemski said. “You know, Jonathan has taken that next step of really being in that conversation. To see his growth just this year has been pretty special. So going into the summer after this year elevating my game to another level, doing the things that I’m deficient in now and making them as efficient as possible, I think I can get there. I’m never gonna just settle for being a role player, especially after my first year. I got a long career ahead of me.“

(Photo illustration: Rachel Orr / The Athletic; photo: Brian Babineau / NBAE via Getty Images)

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)