The NBA can tinker with the All-Star Game as much as it wants, but there is only one solution
As the NBA considers changing the format of the All-Star Game, I have some ideas.
USA vs. The World has more power than ever, from an NBA perspective. Consider the starting lineup the Americans would face: Nikola Jokić in the middle, Luka Dončić and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander in the backcourt, Giannis Antetokounmpo and Victor Wembanyama as forwards. The US starting five is no joke: Anthony Davis at center, LeBron James and Kevin Durant at forward, Stephen Curry and Anthony Edwards in the backcourt.
Or what about the old heads versus the next generation? The thirties against the gray beards. Or draw the dividing line from the 2014 draft – halfway between LeBron’s draft and the latter. Turn it into a full-blown NBA culture war. Generation Z versus the millennials. Let fans choose a side and split San Francisco’s Chase Center, this season’s host arena, in half.
Oh, wait. I just came up with an even better change. The idea to end all ideas and make the All-Star Game sure to be spectacular. It’s such an obvious solution that it’s hard to believe no one in the NBA hasn’t thought of it yet. So this is certainly a solution, it may sound like a crazy idea.
PLAY HARD.
If it’s not 100 percent, then 75. If it’s not the whole game, then half. Even just for the last quarter.
Tree. Problem solved.
Any format changes are Scotch Tape only. All the made-up gimmicks obscure the real problem, like putting barbecue sauce on dry beef. All everyone wants is to see the best players compete seriously against each other.
Find out what it takes to make that happen and do it. Because no one really wants defenses to be driven by apathy and deep three-pointers hit without regard. Otherwise, Washington Wizards games on League Pass would be a treat.
The appeal of the All-Star Game isn’t just seeing the best players. It’s to see how they compare to each other. The stakes aren’t really there. So the only draw is the rare opportunity to see teams full of superstars battle each other.
The All-Star Game was once the only place you could see this collection of stars together. To see what type of personality they had and how they interacted with each other. It was a chance to see some of the new stars you’ve heard about but wouldn’t normally see.
But in modern times, we see them all all the time. The way social media has reconfigured the landscape and access to games via cable and streaming has already given them high visibility. And now they’re all pushing podcasts, like aunts leaning Mary Kay in the 1990s. The sheer novelty of their presence has been diminished, the pageantry of the annual showcase undermined.
The coming together of such stars will undoubtedly always be a spectacle. You just don’t get the 10 best players of any era together outside of the All-Star Game, at least not in their prime. But this only increased the demand for a dramatic end to the weekend. The only way to secure this is to find a solution that leads to real competition.
We know they’re going after it. We know they will have a hard time. All it took was a trip to Las Vegas, some on-court nail polish and a $500,000 wallet to make the NBA Cup a reality.
It’s a little more complicated than players increasing their intensity. It’s not just the players.
The league would have to make some sacrifices. Part of the problem players face is the demand for their time during the weekend. The commitments appear to be growing and will continue to do so as the league’s partners grow.
That’s the league’s money, so it has to be done. But if it hurts the product by limiting the All-Star Game’s potential, it’s worth reining in some demands.
GO DEEPER
How can the NBA fix the All-Star Game? Our writers share their ideas
As I was told, the preparation of the players at All-Star is so dramatically different. The practices aren’t real, much more like the public practice teams do for their fans. The intrusiveness of the spectacle compromises pregame regimes.
If facing the Utah Jazz requires full preparation, facing the best in the league is worth it. If the risk of injury during a practice match is a problem, this is certainly increased by insufficient preparation time. Especially for an All-Star roster full of players over a decade old.
The NBA can do things to free them up. Give them space for a real workout, without TV cameras and fans interrupting them with cheers.
Clear their calendars for Sunday. Make it all about the game. Even do the eight-hour introductions on Saturday or shoot the videos on Sunday. An AI-generated hologram of Donovan Mitchell standing on stage not only works, but fits in with the Silicon Valley atmosphere of an All-Star Game in San Francisco. In the meantime, the players can warm up in the practice room.
Prioritize the game by making sure they have no excuses not to go fast.
Everything else concocted in the name of entertainment value is rooted in this same principle. From the Elam Ending to the players’ own draw to money for chosen charities. It’s all designed with the same goal: to create a competitive spirit. To boost intensity. To put some juice in the display case.
Who could ever forget the 2001 All-Star Game? The Eastern Conference team, led by Allen Iverson, rallied from a 21-point deficit in the fourth quarter to stun the West. It was the most compelling display for a generation. Maybe someday. A comeback for all ages.
It didn’t require any contrived format. They were not afraid of being embarrassed or criticized. They were not deterred by the possibility of injury and the danger it could bring. They weren’t obsessed with numbers and recognition.
Still, they provided an All-Star Game moment for the ages. In the final eight minutes, they lived up to the moment, honored their great reputation and treated the NBA crowd in a way we still remember. And they did it by using that one magical solution.
They played hard.
(Top photo: Brian Sevald/NBAE via Getty Images)