Oklahoma City guard Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, right, drives against Denver center Nikola Jokic in a game earlier this week. (Nate Billings/AP)
During a rant almost 25 years ago, Doc Rivers predicted the NBA’s future. He was the Orlando Magic’s coach back then, and I was a beat writer, and after practice one March afternoon, Rivers was making friendly bets about the NCAA tournament with a few reporters. But something about all the enthusiasm bothered him. The good fun shifted to a debate.
Which version of the sport is better: college or pro?
“There’s no sense arguing,” Rivers said, favoring the NBA. “This is the best league in the world.”
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When he sensed resistance, he praised a banner group of young pro stars from the early 2000s, each of whom now resides in the Hall of Fame. When that wasn’t persuasive enough, he focused on the conversation around both levels, highlighting the constant positive reinforcement of a college game that featured Dick Vitale, the most colorful of commentators, as a high-spirited evangelist. On the other hand, Rivers looked at the NBA and worried the media discourse was growing too negative.
“In only one place are you hearing, ‘It’s awesome, baby!’ all the time,” said Rivers, who is now the Milwaukee Bucks’ coach. “That matters.”
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I remember that lively discussion all the time now. Rivers, who is also a gifted broadcaster, wasn’t necessarily begging for an NBA hype man. He was warning of the dangers of letting the soap opera obstruct the NBA game. Back then, it was a lecture for the media and for aloof players who didn’t understand the need to keep selling the product. And here we are in 2025, deep in a hole of negativity.
The most radical thing I can say about the NBA now is that I still love this game. It’s disturbing to think that such an elementary statement feels bold. For all the interest and conversation about the league, the actual enjoyment of basketball keeps sliding down a list dominated by our worst spectator priorities.
The game struggles to be bigger than the bluster, drama, debate, grievances, ignorance and pettiness. The hate. Good grief, the hate. It’s as though the players compete on a court with bathroom graffiti scrawled everywhere. The nasty discourse belies the merits of a league that will begin a series of media rights deals next season totaling $76 billion over 11 years.
That would seem a preposterous amount of money to provide hoops content that triggers the most absurd reactions. But there’s significant value in the absurdity and its ability to draw attention, even if it burdens the game. Now, I love a little controversy and overreaction almost as much as I love a peanut butter cookie. But I know it’s not good to eat cookies every meal.
The permission to overindulge drives interest now. Rivers made his plea before the explosion of social media, debate shows, podcasts and other technological advances that make noise more preferable than substance. This season, the NBA may be experiencing its most depressing noise disturbance to date.
The past few weeks have seen an athlete-to-pundit confrontation between LeBron James and Stephen A. Smith, analyst-on-analyst crime with the Charles Barkley-Kendrick Perkins feud and the continuation of a season-long blame game in which many generations of players argue about who’s responsible for the perception that the current, three-point-heavy era is becoming banal.
“Nostalgia is killing the NBA,” former NBA big man Channing Frye said recently.
Later, he added: “Nobody celebrates these new people. So why the [expletive] would anybody want to be the face of this league when you’re going to get [expletive]-ed on every network for not being somebody from 40 f---ing years ago? It’s ridiculous. It is unfair.”
I’m old enough to remember when the NBA sold love.
In the 1980s and ’90s, the league achieved marketing genius with commercials that depicted the game’s beauty and appeal to its fans. It was easier for those messages to resonate then because the league was in a significant growth period and TV ad campaigns were by far the most effective way to stand out. The slogans were simple and catchy, such as “NBA action — it’s FANtastic.” The most direct statement was the most memorable of all: “I Love This Game.”
The NBA probably should bring that one back. The message should be timeless. But what does it say about this moment that declaring “I Love This Game” seems like a debatable choice of words?
Everyone wants to be edgy, but there’s nothing wrong with a balanced perspective. Yes, the NBA has problems. All leagues do. Yes, there is a level of player irresponsibility that burdens the game, and issues with entitlement make it difficult to sell the game because players think they’re too rich to be in the selling business. And for certain, the game is due for a stylistic refresh to grow beyond the homogeneous three-ball obsession.
But as someone who has been fascinated with basketball since the mid-’80s, the skill has never been greater. Players have never had more freedom to explore their games and eliminate preconceived notions about position. Coaches have never responded with so much creativity to account for athlete evolution, inverting their offenses and revising their overall approach to cultivate positionless basketball. The individual styles of superstars have never been more diverse, reflecting the globalism of the league.
The greatest point guard in the NBA is Nikola Jokic, who plays center. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, who might deny Jokic his fourth MVP award, is a historically efficient high-scoring point guard. The Cleveland Cavaliers are a marvel on both ends of the floor. The NBA is a few years into an era in which market size and brand appeal don’t dictate the ability to contend. I still have concerns about the way the NBA tweaked its collective bargaining agreement to legislate parity, but there are tremendous long-term benefits as well.
I still love this ridiculous game. Overall, it is healthy. And as new stars prove themselves and active legends bow to Father Time, there will be a different vibe soon. Shaquille O’Neal might want to take heed and realize Chauncey Billups coaches the Portland Trail Blazers, not the Detroit Pistons.
“First of all, I don’t watch Detroit. How about that, boo-boo?” O’Neal said on TNT after being called out for his foolishness. “I messed up. I made a mistake.”
First of all, that’s not a mistake. That’s shoddy, negligent work. Is it too much to ask one of the game’s greatest players — and highest-paid TV personalities — to care more about his sport? How about that, boo-boo?
Ignorance doesn’t make the game more entertaining. The NBA doesn’t need an overhaul; it needs the attention to be redirected. As Rivers cautioned long ago, it’s hard to tell a fresher story when the storytellers are all stale.