I've oftentimes wondered what any offspring of mine would be like. Actually, let me rephrase that. I've often wondered what any offspring of mine would be like, until I remember that any of my poor sons will be doomed by the staggering number of unflattering dominant genes I have. Well, I can only assume they are dominant. If my spawn are scrawny, nerdy, sports fans, possess a quiet love for The Weepies with little to no sarcasm and read a ton of Redwall books, then that matter will be settled.
But I guess most of my curiosity involving my children stems from one central issue. It's not, "What am I going to do when my daughter brings home Kyle the motorcycle enthusiast at two in the morning?" Or, "What's the best way to duck the birds and the bees talk until my wife is forced to pick up the slack?" Or even, "Tommy is almost 11 now, should we really put our foot down about potty training him?"
No. My interest is in the actual process of childbirth or, more specifically, how in the name of Bill Russell do women do this? It consists of hours of debilitating pain, and at the end of it, you have the most responsibility you've ever had in your life. Meanwhile, your spouse is flitting about, not really knowing what to do with themselves and, if I know myself at all, eating Funny Bones.
My point is this: Contractions are painful, but they are necessary.
People who read this column for actual sports and not me making underhanded jokes about myself can wake up from their comas now.
If you are a fan of basketball, you've probably heard the rumblings of the possibility of contraction in the league in the next year or two. With aimless franchises hemorrhaging money because of poor management and ownership — the Bobcats look at the ground and shuffle their feet — and successful franchises bleeding that same cash due to an inexplicable lack of fan interest — Chris Paul cries a single, pearly tear — it seems apparent that basketball's 30 teams are due for some chops somewhere.
But where is the blame here? The collective bargaining agreement is running out, and regardless, owners are going to be greedy and push for as much as they can get. I'll be shocked if all 30 teams make it through the next four years intact, so where can the upcoming team-less city point fingers?
There are all kinds of factors, but, for once, something bad doesn't actually start with the owners. Instead, it starts with the players.
In today's age of scrutiny and communication, talented young players are flagged from a young age and many take part in all kinds of youth programs catered to their level of talent. Most notable among these is the Amateur Athletic Union. The league allows all of the future superstars of the NBA to make friends with each other at a young age. Notable current NBA stars who played Amatuer Athletic Union ball include Kobe Bryant, Carmelo Anthony, Chris Paul, Dwight Howard, Paul Pierce and — drumroll please — Miami's own LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh.
Now, the Heat aren't the only ones guilty of loading a roster of superstars. My own Boston Celtics did it and so did the Los Angeles Lakers. The difference is that those teams were built through trades and development of young players. Not through a free agent conspiracy.
With the recent splash the Knicks made for Carmelo Anthony, they entered the championship conversation over the next five years. They also created yet another team loaded with superstars.
See what I'm saying?
With the exception of teams like the Bulls and the Mavs, there are very few "old-school" basketball teams left. By old school, I mean teams with an alpha dog, a guy who defines the team and gathers his troops around him to stick it to the other alpha dogs. I'm talking about guys like Wilt, Russell, Kareem, Bird, Magic and Jordan. All of those guys had great role players around them, but no one would argue that Jerry West was the face of the Lakers or that Scottie Pippen defined the Bulls.
As much as I hate to say it, the closest we have is Kobe, and his Lakers teams of late. But as his knees and body slip, and Odom and Gasol pick up more and more of the workload, even they are turning into a team where it's not clear who is running the show. Allen, Pierce, Garnett or Rondo? Wade or James? Melo or Amare? Even the question of Westbrook or Durant has gained steam during this season.
All of these guys are capable of being the face of a franchise, but when you load them all onto one team, you take away from teams that are badly in need of stars. Look at the teams that were left behind. The Suns are tanking with an elderly Steve Nash. The Nuggets are years away from contending. The Timberwolves are abysmal. The Raptors are all but crushed. The Cavaliers are eligible for disaster relief under Red Cross standards.
Even then, we have players being lured away from good teams in supposedly boring cities to more attractive cities, where they band together to create powerhouses. We saw it with Deron Williams, who made it clear he didn't want to stay in Utah. We saw it with LeBron, who wanted to hang in the sand with his buddies. We saw it with Melo, who was captivated by the bright lights of the city. We will probably see it with Dwight Howard in a couple of years. Even the martyr that is Chris Paul can only take so much and will likely end up in Brooklyn or New York. No one is saying, "Yeah, I'll play in Charlotte or Minnesota for six years rather than take a negligible pay cut and play with my friends in New York."
Am I saying that all the teams either being great or terrible is a bad thing? No. We just saw the most even and closely-matched NFL season ever, but it was also the worst and most boring in recent memory.
The problem is the total lack of hope on the horizon for these teams. The Timberwolves have been so bad for so long that it's hard to see how on Earth they can climb out of their hole. On the other side of the coin, the Hornets have been good, but no one comes to their games because New Orleans is still holding a memorial service for Drew Brees' abilities as a quarterback. The Bobcats made the playoffs last year and then toppled back into the toilet. As this goes on longer and more money is lost, the chances of these teams surviving dwindles.
Maybe there is relocation — Vancouver is interested and I know a Pittsburgh NBA franchise would be profitable — but at the end of the day, there are too many teams and not enough stars. Chris Paul has kept the Hornets alive almost single-handedly, and Garnett kept the Timberwolves in business for a while, but the clock is running out. If we don't see a lower hard salary cap by the end of the collective bargaining talks, there will be blood.
Thank your lucky stars Thunder fans — and take another swig of bourbon, Sonics mourners — you have Kevin Durant to save your small-market team.
Remember how Tim Duncan got you this far, Spurs fans, and hold on to your reverence for him.
Pretend to care for the next three months, Hornets fans, it's the least you can do for Chris Paul. He did the best he could.
Sam Sheehan '12 wants to thank Kendrick Perkins. You don't deserve this, big guy, and we'll always love you. Talk sports or mourn your city's team with him at sam_sheehan@brown.edu or follow him on Twitter @SamSheehan.
