All-Star Snubbery and Why We Get So Angry
(I had already written most of this before news broke that Cousins had been selected to replace Kobe Bryant on the Western Conference All-Star team, so it lost a little relevance. But this is more about the big picture than the Boogie snubbing, so I hope you still enjoy. — M.T.)
Tim Duncan was selected as an All-Star reserve. DeMarcus Cousins and Damian Lillard were not despite being more than deserving. There was much yelling.
Determining the proper criteria to use during the All-Star selection process has become a mind-numbing chore. Do we look at stats, or is the record of Player X’s team the more important factor? Is this a legacy thing, or are we looking at this year only? Is this guy more marketable than that guy? Did that one guy say the words and do the things that pissed us off at some point along the way while the other guy sat quietly over there for the last few years? Is that dude #humble and this dude a #thug?
We all know by now how this works, though. Fans vote for the starters (and hey, if you want a spot in that lineup just become bros with Justin Bieber and his prepubescent screaming girl army will ensure your name is seen more times than is calculable by modern technology), coaches pick the reserves. And what do we know about coaches? They weigh records more heavily in the equation than most, they can’t help but respect legacy, and they most certainly pay attention to reputation — something that has been an issue for Boogie in the past.
At this point, there is no sense in arguing Duncan’s All-Star credentials. His numbers don’t pop like those of Cousins or Lillard, but the significance of his impact is inarguable. It’s weird how we do this thing where, on one hand, we push for the All-Star inclusion of as many as four Atlanta Hawks, citing team play and records and on-court impacts that go beyond the visible lines in the box score; then on the other hand, in the blink of a Twitter timeline, we spin around and bemoan the exclusion of a guy like Boogie. We’re getting closer and closer to the point where volume stats aren’t the end-all, be-all of a player’s place in the record books, but we still reflexively go there, especially when it comes to All-Star nods.
Still, even in an era where teams like the Spurs and Hawks are successfully spreading minutes and statistics more than any others in NBA history — no team had ever won a title after playing exactly zero of its players 30 minutes or more per game before San Antonio did it last season — the numbers Cousins and Lillard are putting up DO pop off the page. It’s a lot easier to form an argument against their exclusion than it is to build one against Timmy’s inclusion. In a more typical year, or perhaps a more balanced NBA, these guys are shoo-ins for the NBA’s midseason festivities.
But that’s not where we are. Unfortunately, he West is a monster with a limited roster capacity that was guaranteed to bounce multiple deserving candidates. It doesn’t even seem fair to call it snubbery, but this is the time of year when the term snub is used more often in the basketball world than it is over the other 11 months combined. Snub articles and columns are posted and disseminated at 10 times the volume of actual roster-analysis pieces, and the yelling becomes nearly impossible to absorb due to all the takes hitting you in the face before a single thought can enter the mind.
Duncan deserves to be in the game, and not just based on legacy or whatever. With all the injuries and inconsistent play the Spurs have endured this season, they would not be in the playoff picture without Timmy. They might not even be close. He’s been one of the most impactful defenders in the league this season — ESPN’s Defensive Real Plus-Minus stat has him as the single most impactful defender — and he hasn’t lost a step offensively as a 38-year-old in a young, bouncy NBA.
But I believe one of the real reasons we jump so readily as a collective aboard the Boogie-Mobile or the Dame-Train is because of the narratives that follow them and the human element that’s involved. For several reasons, it’s just easy to root for these two.
Cousins has been dealing with the “problem-child” label since the day he stepped foot in Lexington, and it’s stuck with him ever since. But this season felt different. Boogie has cut back on the technicals and the general obvious displays of anger and discontent, and has instead become quite possibly the greatest interior force in the NBA, dropping 24 points and 12 boards per night. His defense has improved dramatically, and he doesn’t just play great offensive basketball — he literally eats people. He stuffs opposing centers face-first into the basket at least twice a game. He’s an absolute monster, and early on, his team was winning.
That was before he contracted viral meningitis, which forced him into street clothes for an extended period of time and had far worse consequences than anyone who followed the NBA could’ve ever predicted.
After a nine-game losing streak in Boogie’s absence, Vivek Ranadivé, an owner we all suspected to be a bit crazy, fired Mike Malone just six weeks into the season, reassuring us that he was indeed batshit. Just when it felt like the team’s best player had found his professional stride and an organization had achieved consistency for the first time in ages, POOF — an infection, a losing streak, a coach shake-up. A team that once had the look of a possible playoff challenger fell right off the cliff again, which now appears to have had at least some effect on Cousins’ All-Star chances.
For Lillard, there’s always been a feeling of disrespect. He’s never mentioned when random basketball analysts give their arbitrary top-five-point-guard rankings, and he’s always on the outside looking in when it comes to things like USA Basketball or the All-Star Game. Yet, Dame has become one of the most feared players in the NBA, not just among point guards. He leads the league in fourth-quarter scoring, and he’s in the top five in multiple other categories.
His past doesn’t come with the publicity that Cousins’ does — he’s a quiet guy from a small school who wasn’t widely considered an elite prospect — and perhaps it’s sort of that underdog-turned-star story we fall in love with. The statistics and the highlights are great, but in a league that packed with stars, it’s these kinds of stories we tend to gravitate toward. We feel for a guy like Boogie, who’s been battling this stigma for years. We feel for someone like Lillard, who has achieved stardom in the northwest corner of the country, yet it still feels like he’s underappreciated nationally.
It’s because of this we yell — because someone like Duncan made it despite Cousins’ numbers blowing the old man’s out of the water. We yell because Durant was selected to start despite playing only 21 games where Lillard has yet to miss one. But really, we yell because we feel for those dudes. We want to see their excellence rewarded by a selection to participate in what is generally a boring exhibition game in the middle of the season.
The problem is, it’s a game that represents more than that. Some players have incentives in their contracts that can be reached via All-Star selection. Some players’ places in history are impacted by how many All-Star appearances they’ve made. The All-Star Game is just that — a game for the superstars of the NBA. Yet sometimes the game’s biggest stars aren’t even its best players.
Until this game’s importance is curbed a bit, until we gear it more toward a fun and enjoyable recognition of the NBA’s talent rather than a measuring stick — especially where financials and record books are involved — there will always be backlash when deserving players don’t make the cut. Fans want to see the stars, and that’s fine. It’s just unfortunate when guys like Cousins and Lillard aren’t recognized.
Here’s the thing: I’d rather see both of these players in the game over Duncan. I think Timmy absolutely deserves it, but as a fan of the game I want to see these fresh faces. And don’t get me wrong — we should treasure every remaining basketball moment Duncan has in this league, and I know he has truly come to enjoy being part of All-Star weekend (this is not a joke).
I just wish we didn’t have to take it all so seriously.
