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http://www.chicagosportsreview.com/printer/article.asp?c=191868
Does the NBA Scare You?
BY Jay Busbee
In Print - March 13, 2007 | View Print Version (PDF)
You could make a pretty damn good argument that, on the court, these are the best days in the history of the NBA. Shaq, Kobe, KG, Duncan and Iverson are already among the realm of "best players ever." Wade, LeBron, Nash and Dirk could eventually join them.
So why isn't the world singing the praises of the NBA? Why isn't today's NBA outperforming the NFL, NASCAR, and Major League Baseball, all of which have been rocked by scandals large and small over the last few years? Simple. Because today's NBA scares the unholy [expletive deleted] out of white people.
The NBA stands at the dead-center intersection of two rampant social dynamics: the ascendancy of the hip-hop culture and 21st-century marketing's sworn duty to segment every individual in this country into an easily definable demographic group.
Think about it.
Break yourself down into your most generalized demographic qualities: gender, age, race, economic class. There's a full range of music, TV shows, movies, and websites explicitly designed to keep you warm and toasty in your comfort zone, free from sharp edges.
The NBA as it stands today has plenty of sharp edges, at least for the segment of the population accustomed to the way things have always been. The NBA now has a serious image problem; more than any other sport, it's pulled in two diametrically opposite directions. As it's been for years, whites make up a majority of the fan base; blacks make up a majority of the players. And as those players have benefited from ever-upward-spiraling paychecks, they've exercised their influence to shape the sights, the sounds, the feel of the game around them in their own image, with the grand help of marketers looking to attach their fates to an upward, globally-spanning ride.
The NBA's loose on-court structure contributes to the dilemma. More than any other sport, the NBA allows for both individual flash-and-dazzle theatrics and solid, by-the-numbers fundamentals-progressivism and conservatism, all in a single possession. Showboat all you want in baseball, but you've still got to step into the batter's box and hit the damn ball. And while a quarterback can improvise and create, NFL defenses are savvy enough to swallow up all but the most preternaturally gifted field generals.
But the NBA is still all about improvisation, artistry, jazz in motion, poetry on the way to and above the rim. It's also got a skill set that's far beyond almost all its fans, white or black. We can scramble around and unleash bombs in the back yard like Brett Favre, we can jack a ball-a softball, at least-high into the air like Albert Pujols. But there ain't no way most of us will ever pull off AI's ankle-breaking crossover dribble or LeBron's stiff-armed tomahawk jam. And while we can appreciate such artistry in and of itself, the fact that we can't do it puts many fans at some kind of small but measurable emotional distance from the game. For the white audience, the skill divide is one thing; there have always been ballplayers that could do things the rest of us couldn't. What's freaking White America out is the way that the NBA is embracing every element of hip-hop culture-the music, the fashion, the attitude-without so much as a glance backward. For the white audience, the skill divide is one thing; there have always been ballplayers that could do things the rest of us couldn't. What's freaking White America out is the way that the NBA is embracing every element of hip-hop culture-the music, the fashion, the attitude-without so much as a glance backward.
It wasn't always this way, of course; the NBA rebounded -- sorry -- from the drugs-and-violence scandals of the '70s to produce perhaps the most famous human being on earth in Michael Jordan. But Jordan, in the minds of many whites, "transcended" his blackness in the same way Tiger Woods has-by becoming so famous (and, perhaps not coincidentally, declining to identify himself with specific racial agendas) that it's impossible to pigeonhole him as a "black" basketball player. And Magic Johnson, Karl Malone, Isiah Thomas, and others of Jordan's era weren't products of the hip-hop culture; they were already well-defined media presences by the time hip-hop hit the American mainstream. But today's NBA stars grew up with both Jordan and Jay-Z as their role models. The Michaels, Patricks and Charleses of the past have given way to the Dwyanes, LeBrons, and Carmelos of today. Tattoos and baggy clothes have replaced Armani suits -- or would, if the league hadn't slammed down a dress code. The culture's changing; that's what cultures do. Problem is, not everyone changes with it -- and many of those left behind still man keyboards.
As a result, the frustration with the changing league periodically boils over, leading to a rash of look-what-they-done-to-my-game editorials from sportswriters who apparently wish the players would go back to wearing John Stockton-length pants--and countless sports --bar soliloquies from others who feel much the same way. Last month's NBA All-Star weekend in Las Vegas served as the latest racial flashpoint. Depending on whom you believe, the recent NBA All-Star weekend in Las Vegas was either standard-issue Sin City -- a few arrests, a strip club brawl, the usual--or 300 meets South Central, utter rape-pillage-gunfire anarchy.
"All-Star weekend revelers have transformed the league's midseason exhibition into the new millennium Freaknik, an out-of-control street party that features gunplay, violence, non-stop weed smoke and general mayhem," wrote Jason Whitlock on AOL Sports. "The game needs to be moved overseas, someplace where the Bloods and Crips and hookers ... can't get to it without a passport and plane ticket ... All-Star weekend can no longer remain the Woodstock for parolees, wanna-be rap artists and baby's mamas on tax-refund vacations."
Not a whole lot of wiggle room about what demographic group Whitlock -- who, for the record, is black -- is talking about there, is there?
Scoop Jackson, a Chicago-based ESPN.com columnist, fired back, but attacked the messengers rather than the message: "[W]e (blacks in the media) are supposed to sit here and accept this? Accept what is being written and said-and insinuated-and say nothing? We should remain quiet as if there's absolute truth to what is being communicated about the behavior of the 'hip-hop thugs and their baby mammas' (code: young black people) who went to Vegas and displayed a side of ignorance that had veteran reporters and columnists 'scared' to go out of their rooms?"
It's tough not to feel a twinge of pity for Jackson, who's articulate and thoughtful but all too often backed into corners by some of the very people he defends, forced into the awkward position of making excuses for the inexcusable actions of others.
But where Jackson sees a racial agenda in the writing, others insist they are simply reporting what they saw.
"It wasn't about 'Hip Hop culture' or 'Gangbangers' or 'Thugs' that was unnerving in Vegas," wrote Cavaliers beat writer Brian Windhorst. "It was about the lawlessness on the streets. I'm not talking about what sort of music was coming out of clubs or what color people were. I'm talking about people smoking weed in hotel hallways and out on the street. I'm talking about walking through a casino and as you try to sort through the crowd overhearing a handful of drug deals.
"I'm talking about guys reaching out and grabbing women they didn't know on the chest and elsewhere as they walked by. I'm talking about seeing guys flash guns. I saw all this with my own eyes."
These kinds of events, these kinds of stories, absolutely crucify the NBA, cementing its lawless-blacks image in many observers' minds. The disastrous PR of Vegas set the league back years, but commentators differ on who's to blame: "[T]he NBA should have known better," wrote Newsday's Ken Berger. "In its rush to canoodle with [Las Vegas mayor Oscar] Goodman, the league put Las Vegas' trial run as an NBA city ahead of good judgment. Stern is always lecturing players, 'Don't put yourself in a bad situation.' Then, he put them right in the middle of one."
ESPN.com's Bill Simmons countered that the NBA wouldn't have been in a "bad situation" if Las Vegas had held up its end of the bargain: "The NBA was unfairly blamed for the general craziness of the weekend, with the Pacman Jones [strip club gunplay] incident getting the most play...like it was the NBA's fault that an NFL star caused the biggest riot of the weekend. The NBA didn't screw up; Vegas screwed up." But Simmons acknowledges that, regardless of blame, the last thing the NBA needs now is another NBA-as-thug-haven story.
That's the operative word in short-handing the new NBA culture, as Jackson and others have noted. "Thug" was co-opted by black culture sometime during the Tupac Era; the last white guys referred to as "thugs" were Marlon Brando and his fellow dockworkers in "On The Waterfront." When people slag NBA players as "thugs," it's a good bet they're not talking about Adam Morrison or J.J. Redick. It's a racial tag, a way to drive in a wedge without looking like a flat-out cross-burning racist. And the sad thing is it's working more effectively than Dwyane Wade in crunch time.
The NBA, moreso than any other sports entity, has the potential to be a bridge between cultures, a way to bring both sides together in cheering some of the best athletes of any color.
It's already produced Jordan, the most widely-known athlete in history, and it's gaining ground fast on soccer as the world's best-known sport. But it's a fragile bridge indeed, with fans of all colors viewing basketball as a zero-sum game, where every stereotypically black or white element (the hip-hop music, the dress code mandating suits on the road) apparently forces out its ethnic opposite. But with every Las Vegas, every Malice at the Palace, another slat falls out of that bridge.
And it's not hard to imagine a time when nobody will be interested in crossing over.
JAMES DOLAN on Isiah : He's a good friend of mine and of the organization and I will continue to solicit his views. He will always have strong ties to me and the team.
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