Why the obsession?
Why do we, they, those who set the tone and agenda for what become our everyday topics of discussion and discourse continue to make nothings into somethings? More necessary than necessary. Why are we all always in such a rush to beat the end result to the finish line?
There’s a hatred within us against nature sometimes, for certain things, taking its course. Making me wonder why we so despise anything reaching its final destination organically, naturally, without our forced involvement, prediction, opinion or judgment.
The guess only: Freedom to choose supersedes freedom to happen all day, every day and 10 times on ‘‘NBA Countdown’’ or ‘‘Inside The NBA.’’ If we need to get specific.
The controversy of, ‘‘Who is going to be, should be, deserves to be, in the best position to be, the face of the league’’ has arisen once again and is the question controlling almost every element related to the NBA. Nothing new, not like it hasn’t been in this meaningless space before, but with LeBron James’, Steph Curry’s and Kevin Durant’s careers inching closer to their Hall of Fame inductions, a new aura of panic and urgency has been injected into the lexicon this time.
Making something meaningless even more meaningless than it previously was. Has an admonition ever been so necessary?
The game’s face — the single player who will be purposefully and strategically attached to all-everything NBA — seems to have become more substantial than the league and the game itself. A reminder that at the core of basketball in America is a business and at this level inside of that business is a brand called the NBA. And every American brand needs a ‘‘face of’’ for identification and survival purposes. Something — especially one that no longer competes with or against, God forbid, the NFL — beyond the game itself to sell itself.
Names float, as though their anointed ascension will become the answer the league is in desperation of. Anthony Edwards, Jayson Tatum, Luka Doncic (especially now that he’s positioned to take over the Lakers’ franchise once James exits — or maybe before), Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Victor Wembanyama and incoming phenom Cooper Flagg. All seem to be the name-checks at the forefront.
The problem invades us and relaxes itself in the questionable reality that the NBA is not a controlled substance. That, in the most literal sense of the meaning, it’s not like Mark Zuckerberg being the face of Facebook/Meta, Deon Cole being the face of Old Spice or the gecko being the face of Geico. The 78 years the NBA has been in existence and the just-signed $76 billion deal should be indication enough to not have this top-heavy parlance of ‘‘who got next’’ when it comes to carrying the league.
It’s reductive, it’s demeaning, it’s pandering to the lowest uncommon denominator in sports. It’s borderline racist, without question sports-culturist and to all degrees separatist in nature why this specific discussion seems to center around — more recently than ever — the NBA more than any other American sports league.
Is the NBA at such a low point that it cannot sustain without a face? That it needs a savior in the shape and face of a single ‘‘perfect’’ player for people to care about the league? The hope is that it’s not, but at the same time the lie is how NBA fans are telling ourselves it ain’t.
Much like the G.O.A.T. and annual MVP arguments, this is another exchange of thoughts and words where there is no concrete criteria formed for a constructive debate or a reasonable discussion to be had. And for some not-so-odd reason, the NBA, more than any other league, is plagued with a single-player-denominator template for how we are supposed to view it going forward.
Does the NFL need a face? The NHL? MLB stopped the open out-loud discussion of whom their guy (despite the unofficial coronation of Shohei Ohtani) is going to be as its face once it authentically took care of itself. Does the WWE? The PGA, even after Tiger’s hold on the sport? The ITF, after Nadal’s, Federer’s and Djokovic’s dominance? Does Pickleball? Does the Premier League or UEFA?
End of story: The ‘‘face’’ at this point should be ‘‘faces’’ if this conversation is necessary. More than one player. Multiple. Until one emerges, without us predicting or forcing it. Or maybe the league should be more concerned about getting a facelift? But because everyone seems to be stuck on singular, let’s do this, for the sake of giving this whole nuance meaning. Let’s speak about Kyrie Irving’s face. Literally.
The last free throw he took before he exited the game with the injury that ended his season and more than likely will take away most of next season, too, as he stood there on the free-throw line, close to standing on one leg because the ACL tear that happened a few minutes prior would not allow him to do anything else, as the ref handed him the ball for his second and final shot, Kyrie’s face tilted 10 degrees up, looked 15 degrees away and, with a tear rolling down his left check, he mouthed, ‘‘Thank you, God.’’ To the game.
That right there, that face, in that extraordinary, Kobe-esque moment, is what the face of a game looks like.
‘‘F’’ what everyone else is talking about.