It was bound to happen.
Within hours of the United States men’s basketball team getting waxed by a seemingly weak Puerto Rico squad, it was painfully clear to anyone who even remotely follows the sport that they probably were not going to have two countries flanking them on a medal ceremony platform come the tournament’s end. It was also blatantly obvious that the collective of individual talent that had proven fradulent carriers of the media-given “Dream Team” moniker had a very vocal group of basketball fans rooting against any success. The group was merciless in their needling of the selfishness of the American players, unrelenting in pointing out the lack of the player’s fundamental skills, constant in reminding them about their lack of cohesiveness in the face of their more seasoned and experienced adversaries. The group was made up of American basketball fans, and I was part of it.
It almost seems inconceivable that I’d reached this point with team USA, only a dozen years removed from the first batch of pros wreacking havoc in Barcelona. But I had, and over the past couple of weeks, I saw plenty of evidence to prove that I was not alone. Even though my position, if given within the context of said evidence, is not necessarily a radical one, I knew that I would stand a decent chance of having to suffer the slings and arrows of being referred to as traitorous, a soul ready for expatriate status, and other unpleasant things. I will admit, though, that I never thought my position would be one that borders on racism. But that is exactly what ESPN.com columnist Jason Whitlock accused me and anybody else who shared my disdainful disposition in his column on Wednesday, August 25.
After reflecting on his column for a couple of days, I felt horribly naive because I never noticed the inherent formula that made the pulling of the dreaded race card so easy. You see, all of the U.S. men’s team was made up entirely of African-Americans. They make a lot of money in the NBA. They get kicked to the curb by an international collection of white guys.
Put the formula to use, and it was bound to happen.
In short, Whitlock implies that anyone who did not root for Team USA to do anything but win the gold essentially got an unsophisticated kick out of watching black millionaires fail, and therefore was edging into racist territory. Chances are, the initial reaction to such a bold accusation consists of the unleashing of a host of naughty utterances either by mouth or by the safe confinement of brain wave. That would certainly be justified, since no rational human being should take too kindly to being accused of being racist. However, just as in every other instance where the race card is used in an inglorious attempt to add a tension where none is welcomed or visible, it is much better to deconstruct why it should have been kept in its case, tucked neatly behind the rules for draw poker card. Since the card was used on me, I feel it’s my perrogative to defend my rationale for rooting against the men’s hoops team as a basketball fan, on behalf of the ever-dwindling legion of basketball fans, which I beleive may have dipped into double-digits.
First off, I love basketball-when it is played properly. There is art in succesfully executed 3 on 2 fast break. There is beauty in someone working to get open, receiving a pass, and burying an 18 foot jump shot. There is a gorgeous quality in the perfect bounce pass. Sadly, there is hardly any of that going on in the NBA today. The average NBA player makes up for not being able to shoot by not being able to pass or dribble. But at least they can dunk, so they got that going for them. These stars (even if the league’s big guns like Shaquille O’Neal, Tracy McGrady, and Kevin Garnett didn’t play, we still sent guys the league considers stars), can’t play the game properly at home, so why would anyone think they could play better in Athens? It was evident that there was nobody on this team that could make something as rudimentary as an open jump shot on a routine level. And if you are getting paid the kind of money that Olympian Richard Jefferson received in his new contract, and if you are a shooting guard like Jefferson is, it should be rudimentary. But there were more clinks and clanks going on than the last time you vaccumed up a penny. In his article, Whitlock tells us that we’ve taught these players that it’s okay to play their style. If that’s the case, then maybe, just maybe, us Americans fans jumping on Team USA’s case for playing so poorly is to send them a message. In fact, I can tell you with confidence that that is the sole reason I was not waving the stars and stripes for them. Instead, it was my hope that there was a new generation of 11 to 15 year olds who were riveted to the television for every game, and their thoughts of disillusionment over their team losing turned into ones of disgust with each mid-range jumper that hit nothing but air or clanged off the side of the backboard. Inspired by the insipid performance, they go out to the court a day or two later and start working on the things that matter most in basketball, such as shooting and passing. Over time, their fundamentals develop into near second nature, and they lead the NBA into a repeat performance of professional basketball at its absolute apex-the NBA from 1980 to 1991, starting at Magic Johnson’s and Larry Bird’s first games and ending with the first sighting of they NBA of today, with the Detroit Pistons winning a home game against the New York Knicks 72-61. To an NBA fan, this is just somewhat analagous of the father who catches his son smoking a cigarette, and then makes him smoke the entire package in an effort to make the kid disgusted enough with smokes so that he steers clear of them. Just like smoking is bad to one’s health, not knowing the fundamentals of basketball can cause irrepairable damage to one’s game.
The other excuse Whitlock uses to bring the race card home is he claims that the white Euros have developed a more exciting and inventive way of playing basketball, and we Americans aren’t giving our boys a fair shake at catching on to these revolutionary tactics. I watched several hours of European basketball during the Olympics, and the only “inventions” that they came up with included such exotic ideas as moving without the ball, properly executed fast breaks, passing to open teammates, and point guards directing the offense instead of trying to make themselves the center of it. Yep, the same stuff that collectively formed the reasons why the NBA was the most entertaining sport you could watch twenty years ago. The Lakers forged a decade long dynasty based on those principles the Europeans “invented.” The Celtics took those very same tools and won themselves a trio of titles with them. But it didn’t stop with the successful teams. Your perennial doormats during the 80s-squads like the Kansas City Kings, Indiana Pacers, and Los Angeles Clippers (some things never change) all played a style that put the team ahead of individual merit. It led me to wonder if Whitlock ever saw a single basketball game in the ’80s. Then again, I also wondered if he witnessed a single game that the Detroit Pistons played last year, since their team concept on the road to swiping the NBA title from the Lakers seemed frighteningly similar to that of the European teams. All he had to do was check out Game 5 of the Finals to realize that the Europeans had not done anything that revolutionary. While the Los Angeles Lakers were standing around watching Kobe Bryant making horrible decisions, the Pistons were doing everything the Europeans did to Team USA. They were attacking on offense. Rip Hamilton was sinking open shots. Guys were constantly flying around the offensive zone like molecules under heat, creating their own open space to get easy shots. Sadly, the Pistons’ style of play on offense was the exception to the rule, unlike twenty years ago, when it was almost sacrilege against the name of James Naismith not to play as a team. The bottom line after all this is obvious. The team concept of basketball that Whitlock found so inventive existed on American soil before modern Lithuania did, and there are plenty of basketball fans around that have fond memories of a style since taken for granted by today’s pro game. They are therefore left disillusioned by the poor, fundamentally lacking play exhibited by the members of Team USA, and the rest of the world can now provide a suitable antidote for an infected game while at the same time evoking an exhilarating era of when basketball didn’t hurt to watch.
Whether or not you want to brand me as un-American or unpatriotic is left entirely up to you. But whatever you do, don’t lump me or anyone else who shares my opinion on the U.S. team as something that borders on racism. To do so is as foolish as it is insulting to anyone who has a modicum of intelligence. Personally, I’d prefer it if you’d accuse me of being a fan of the way basketball should be played.
