LITTLE ROCK — America - at least in its own imagination - stands for certain things.
It stands for the idea that hard work and sound judgment bring success, and that success deservescelebration. That winners should be celebrated as long as they play by the rules. That teamwork, leadership, loyalty and excellence all count for something.
That’s why the San Antonio Spurs, riding a stupendousrun of 20 consecutive victories, are America’s favorite professional basketball team.
Except, of course, they aren’t.
Not this year, when they tied for the best record in the NBA, and not last year when they were the best in the West. Not in their 1999 championship run or the follow-ups in 2003, 2005 and 2007. Not for a single moment amid the glorious 15-year run with Coach Gregg Popovich and big man Tim Duncan have the Spurs captured the imaginations of the American people or even its basketball fans.
That’s because we are, ultimately, a nation of hypocrites that prefers drama queens, bad boys and flukes to simple competence and success.
This year’s Spurs team somehow managed to earn less recognitionthan its predecessors even as it has finally demolished the longstanding excuses for America’s refusal to embrace our most successful sports franchise. Apologists for the American fan have long argued that the Spurs don’t get attention because they have a “boring” style of play. This was an arguably accurate characterization of San Antonio’s 2005 championship squad. Those Spurs were a slow-paced, defense-first team, anchored by solid perimeter rotations, Duncan’s ability to control the paint, and Bruce Bowen’s grabby hands on the perimeter.
This never quite explained the Spurs’ rampant unpopularity. The brutal, slow-it-down Knicks and Heat teams of the late-1990s didn’t exactly strike out-of-towners as lovable, but they were iconic.
At a minimum, people loved to hate those teams. The Spurs are just ignored.
But as Duncan’s legs aged and the league has evolved, so has Popovich’s system. The current iteration of the Spurs is a scoring powerhouse that combines sharp ball movement with accurate shooting to rain threepointers on the opposition. Playing with an above-average pace and the best field-goal percentage in the league, the Spurs ended the regular season second in overall scoring and first in offensive efficiency.
When the Phoenix Suns leapt into contention with a fast-paced, long-ball-heavy offense led by its point guard, fans around the country jumped for joy. Now that SanAntonio’s embraced gunning, nobody cares.
Nor is it credible to attribute the Spurs’ obscurity to San Antonio’s “small market” status, a hoary cliche that fails to notice the extraordinary population growth in Texas since the ABA-NBA merger brought the Spurs into the league. It’s true that San Antonio remains considerably smaller than New York, Los Angeles, Chicago or even Dallas and Houston. But it’s far from the NBA’s smallest market. The San Antonio metropolitan area’s 2.2 million inhabitants ranks it above Sacramento, Orlando, Cleveland, Indianapolis, Milwaukee, Memphis, New Orleans and, not least of all, Oklahoma City.
No, there are two main reasons why the Spurs are genuinely boring. The first is that, unlike the Thunder and pretty much every other NBA team, they don’t have anybody who dunks. San Antonio’s top dunker, Tim Duncan, had just 35 slams this season, tied for 63rd-most in the league. That’s 157 fewer than the league’s top dunker, Blake Griffin, and I assure you that none of Duncan’s dunks were spectacular.
Second, the Spurs organization’s top-to-bottom dedication to winning is incredibly stultifying. The star never tries to get the coach fired. There are no contract disputes. Nobody fights about whether it’s “still Tim Duncan’s team” as first Manu Ginobili and then Tony Parker stepped up to play a bigger role. Nobody’s eager to leave for a flashier city. The face of the franchise is onthe last year of his contract, and nobody is speculating about whether he’ll come back. No other team even bothers to try to hire away San Antonio’s coach despite his indisputable track record of success.
Even when the team miscalculates, as when the Spurs signed Richard Jefferson to a high-dollar multiyear deal, the situation is dealt with quietly and efficiently. He played major minutes and contributed to the team. Nobody grumbled about the fact that his relative compensation was out of whack to his skills. And when the opportunity presented itself to make a financially advantageous trade and swap him for Stephen Jackson’s less-onerous deal, management got it done.
Competent, businesslike success gives us nothing to work with. Kobe Bryant’s egomaniacal play, LeBron James’ absurd television special, and Dwight Howard’s “should I stay or should I go” antics are polarizing. By inviting hatred and criticism, they promote response and enthusiasm. The all-consuming dysfunction of the Knicks fuels successive waves of outrage, hope and resentment.
There is a reason that Bridezillas is a show and there is nothing called Reasonably Well-Planned Wedding Enjoyed by All. Americans don’t want excellence, and we certainly don’t want long-term sustained excellence. We want our dynasties to come with a side order of drama, controversy and bad behavior.
Sports, Pages 20 on 05/31/2012