“I think you and I are destined to do this forever…”
That’s the last thing the Joker says to Batman in The Dark Night (2008), proclaiming the two will fight in perpetuity, the former hanging off a 50-story building and still not taking any of it seriously. Batman will try to fix Gotham until he dies trying—believing he can control the world around him—while the Joker is content to keep it all a clown show, thinking life is just brutish and short.
And then there’s me, watching the movie, wondering which of the two philosophies holds more water or if I’d prefer if both characters would stop pontificating about Enlightenment philosophy and end this two-and-a-half hour movie.
That’s about how I felt talking about the NBA All-Star Game this weekend.
Is it all a joke? Can we actually fix it? Are we just spending too much money on intellectual property that lost its allure in the mid-90s?
To answer question one, yes. The NBA All-Star Game is definitely a joke, but unlike the Joker’s sadistic plots to torment a large metropolitan area, there aren’t many stakes riding on if anyone takes it seriously. Guys are running around trying stuff they wouldn’t dream doing in an actual game, with Damian Lillard pulling up from half court thrice and Karl Anthony-Towns running up his personal box score by throwing down windmills on uncontested paints.
Depending on which Enlightenment philosophy you subscribe to, that’s either gloriously hilarious or a true calamity that is in dire need of fixing. But it’s definitely a joke, so who’s telling it?
Some would point the blame at the All-Stars themselves, showing clips from the 1992 game with Magic Johnson squaring off with Michael Jordan and actually appearing to try. Others would reference 2001, when Kobe Bryant and Stephon Marbury traded buckets down the stretch in what resembled a super awesome basketball game.
Clearly, then, the players these days have decided not to care, and the onus is on them to reignite the All-Star Game to its former glory. From Anthony Edwards claiming he wouldn’t shoot with his right hand all weekend to the NBA’s literal joker Nikola Jokic having a stand-off with Luka Doncic to see who could care about the game the least, it wasn’t the best look.
But it is advertised as “the All-Star break” not “the All-Star intensive study retreat,” so I’m not the most sure fans should expect players to give it their all for 48 minutes for nothing other than their own pride when an 82-game NBA season is grueling enough. It’s understandable that guys like Trae Young and Scottie Barnes—whose teams haven’t had the most enjoyable seasons—don’t want to hoop to their maximum capacities.
And it’s also not remotely fair to say none of the All-Stars “try,” as the Celtics’ Jaylen Brown gave his second annual solid performance, tallying 36 points and buying into at least the idea of defense. Actual defense will never be played in the All-Star Game unless Adam Silver finds a magic lamp with Robin Williams inside and gets to make three wishes.
Perhaps the problem is the system. Could any incentive make the players care without destroying the entire history of the game? Money probably won’t since many of these guys have quarter-billion dollar contracts, nor will any competitive incentive respect the long season that comes before and after.
So maybe there’s a reform out there that will make this all better. Shorter game? Four-point line? 3v3 tournament? 8-foot hoops on a smaller court with trampolines?
Or we could try the one thing I’ve seen kicking around the internet for 24 hours: eliminate three-pointers from the All-Star Game. That would seem simple enough, as probably the worst part of the game was the pointless launching of uncontested three-pointers that ran the score up past 200. Banning the three-ball would artificially incentivize more exciting plays, but would move basketball back 45 years and completely divorce the game from the rest of the season.
I’m not sold, plus half court shots are cool and the All-Star Game should have hilariously high scores for the sake of it being an All-Star Game. Removing threes would be visually jarring and create artificial fun likely to turn players off even more, fixing one problem but compounding another.
If you get the sense that all I’ve done so far is nix ideas and make vague and confusing references to my favorite movie, I’ll make it up to you by fixing the All-Star Game once and for all in the spirit of Indiana and the cinematic impulse.
(94-year-old Gene Hackman enters a room full of every NBA All-Star)
Gene Hackman: We’re way past big speech time, but here’s the deal. People don’t know what they want. They want you to play hard but also not to shoot threes, the fundamental building block of 2020s NBA basketball. They want you to play defense, but also have the game be exciting and have lots of scoring. Also while playing hard, make sure not to get injured. That’ll really ruin things
Paolo Banchero: Wait, who ar—
Gene Hackman: And another thing, no ball for the first three All-Star practices. I want to see you all move without the ball more than I want to see you dominate it.
Stephen Curry: That actually sounds kind of fun.
Luka Doncic: Shut up, Steph.
And if you get the sense that this article—in addition to Gotham City, the NBA All-Star Game and perhaps life itself—is just one big joke, you nailed it. The NBA All-Star Game is a one-day escape into NBA crazy town. Why so serious?
