The 'T-Word' strips soul from NBA

Running on empty tanking in the NBA. (Courtesy Pheaber)

Simple: _____ tops; Fish _____; Sherman _____. 

Or more extravagant: Being a TImberwolves' fan is a _____less job. 

Or more cynical: Some players get _____ed before games.

Now bear with me. As a guest on Letterman this month, Jon Stewart explained the problem with having comedians like himself or Dave host the Oscars:

“The problem with having us host it, to some extent…is that at some level deep in our hearts, we think it’s stupid…I respect what they do and I know it’s a big night but at some point in the night they’re gonna know, ‘cause you’re gonna look at them for a second and be like: Really? ‘Courageous’ because he played a fireman in a movie?”

This works well as a metaphor for common practices in the NBA.

When an NBA team is removed from playoff contention early in a season, the inevitable “T-Word” comes a calling. Of course there are exceptions, like teams that came into a season expecting to be crappy; teams like the Memphis Grizzlies that are bad but still use all 48 minutes to grow. But when the bugs of injury and underachievement infect a team that was expected to contend or at least improve, it’s another ball game entirely.

But even so, and because a player’s existence is dependent on fans buying tickets and hot dogs and neon foam-fingers, you’d hope that no matter the team’s record, your hometown players are playing to win. Even less realistic, Herman Edwards, you hope that their pride is enough to push them forward.

From a strict ethics perspective, tanking is a shameful, disingenuous practice that seeps through the epidermis of your soul and knocks around like Lyme’s disease until it eats itself from the inside out. Tanking is the second-cousin once-removed to point shaving, or fall taking. But nobody really cares.

From a strict business perspective, ethics is only opportunity cost. Just make it look good.

So are teams like the Minnesota Timberwolves tanking? Yes and no. Per Stewart, it’s mainly that most of them think, deep in their hearts, that it’s stupid. What can you do? We’re not the Yankees.

But that said, I think opportunity actually costs small-market teams something.

My market’s bigger than yours 

In one corner you have small-market organizations that rely on smarts and luck to thrive and stay alive, hoping that a big-ticket draft pick and genuine continuity will bring championship glory.

In the other corner you have big-market organizations that forgo any organic ascension in favor of forking over hundreds of millions of dollars to manufacture winning franchises, e.g. the New York Yankees.*

Superpowered and big-market teams like the Yankees remain popular through feast and famine, as the fans seem more interested in eating the sausage, or bitching about the sausage, than worrying about how it’s made. Some of this is attributable to the charmed history that hovers like a halo over the head of Yankee-cap wearers, but I wonder how this sense of imbued entitlement will dull in the coming generations, as the legacies of Ruth, Mantle, etc. become too far removed for newer generations to get gooseflesh. Unless they see this:

But when things get bad for small-market teams, tanking seems like a more damaging option, because while Palooka-players offer anelectric performances on a nightly basis, and as the front-office still demands cash from seemingly bamboozled fans – a demand based on the promise of better draft picks, and liberty in the free-agent market thanks to liberation of invaluable players with valuable contracts – the size of the potential fan universe shrinks.

FAN: “It was smelly over there, so, I’m never going back.”

At a smaller level – literally and figuratively – and of supreme irony, many of the fans that still salivate for seats in the arena, even while the team flounders, are the young, as yet uncorrupted kids who are supposed to carry the torch of fandom. It’s like cigarettes – they won’t know it’s filthy and artificial until they’re older and hooked already. If NBA owners were as smart as these criminals, they’d make their product more, not less, affordable.

But when it comes to concerns about tanking, small-market teams have small fan bases anyways, and if there aren’t enough people who care in the first place, there aren’t enough people to complain, especially if the team is always bad. (see: L.A. Clippers)

Bad teams like this are rarely fan-favorites unless they’re ineptitude reaches mythic proportions, e.g. the Chicago Cubs organization, which is an anomalistic “unsuccessful success story” propped-up by Chicago’s excellent public transportation system, the allure of the bleacher seats and the community of Wrigleyville.

In Minnesota we do have the best skyway system in the country, but we come up short on the community front. And the booze.

So why tank?

And why is this onerous phenomenon so prevalent in the NBA?

According to this 2007 piece on Sports Law Blog, there are five reasons:

1. The importance of impact players vs. the lack of close substitutes in the draft.
2. The NBA is a league of superstars (more individual, less team).
3. One player can change an NBA team.
4. Comparative gambling interests (less $ devoted to NBA).
5. Nobody cares.

Why NOT to tank

1. The NBA is not a drinkers’ sport: It’s indoors. It’s more intimate. People pay closer attention. 
2. The “pick-up” affect: More fans play the game themselves, so effort isn’t as relative or hard to estimate. 
3. The NBA is bloated: Higher salaries. Controversy galore. Too many teams. People are frustrated. 

I hate to link to Bill Simmons because shilling for ESPN makes me feel like a patsy, but his recent article "Welcome to the No Benjamins Association" was a welcome come-to-Jesus that explains how dire the straits are for several NBA franchises. It’s been an era of glut and expansion, and it seems we are on the verge of contraction and rationing. The players don’t understand this, and that reality injures the baby-toothed, foam-finger wearing kid inside me that still wants to cheer. Cheer hard. A kid that still looks for heroes.

So here's what it all boils down to: Now more than ever before, NBA players need us to actually like them. Because at some level, very close to the surface, we’re all starting to think – starting to know – that they think its stupid. And we think they’re stupid. And no longer being a fan of the NBA is quickly becoming the opportunity cost of following our local little league, where the ten-run rule and post game handshakes remain, thankfully, mandatory.

*True, due to the strucutre of MLB, teams are free to go hogwild for players, while NBA teams are constrained. The point is more that indentured sports teams with enormous fan-bases don't need to worry as much about alienating fans.