When the Nuggets host their annual Show All-Star Games for 40 fortunate schoolboys and schoolgirls on Friday at the Pepsi Center, here’s hoping selectees continue to take it seriously.
Relative to what it is – a chance for a competitive, fun time for kids, most of whom would rather hoop than anything else – games such as these deserve a commitment from those chosen and an honest effort from them in representing their schools.
Call it living by a code.
One hundred percent is required after game-only sneakers are laced and tied.
Not that the city’s lone prep hoops event associated with pros is having a problem. There have been multiple competitive games through six years.
Let’s keep it that way.
Clearly, basketball has been regressing in skill on all levels for years and the confoundedly popular trend of individual play clouds the game’s issues like a spring fog in eastern Colorado.
There may be no “I” in team, but there’s a “me” in All-Star Game.
Call it an observation: Too many all-anything basketball games aren’t basketball games.
Look at the NBA. It practically requires a campaign that would supersede many states’ races for governor to earn more than half of the all-star roster spots. Then, after using a James Bond jetpack to pop around town, making sure they were seen with (fill in the starlet) at such-and-such club, and spending enough at clothing and jewelry stores to rival certain countries’ monthly GNPs, the game comes and players turn disinterested, can’t wait to leave town, show off or, as is said repeatedly, defer to someone else out of “respect.”
No less a figure than Chauncey Billups, the city’s former four-time player of the year by The Denver Post at George Washington, sees a problem with the current approach. A top guard as a Detroit Piston and MVP of the NBA Finals, Billups had the gumption to question the seriousness of participants in February.
Playing to win, Billups said, should be a given. If not, why play and, more important, why should we watch?
Look at the McDonald’s All-American game. As far back as 1997, when it was played at the Air Force Academy, basketball icon John Wooden detailed his concern about individual play needlessly occupying the sport’s ranks, particularly for preps, where it festers.
Even if it’s an All-Star Game, it’s organized basketball.
Carrying the ball, taking extra steps for a dunk attempt, throwing crazy passes, going on the break one-on-three and shooting every time you touch it should be reserved for playgrounds, not the Pepsi Center.
This is an All-Star Game, as opposed to tryouts for the Globetrotters or personal amusement.
A game that allows participants to be as selfish as they want to be – at least as individualistic as in any other prep team sport – doesn’t need more help in that particular department.
Basketball can be beautiful, but cold, too. Freezing out other players isn’t new.
I wasn’t going to type street ball, but I just did, didn’t I?
Attention to the fundamentals that all but make all-star prep players beats clowning and jersey-tugging every time.
Does a prep basketballer want to be automatic in chest-bumping or at the free-throw line?
Take this for what it’s worth: Bill Russell, who won NBA championships in 11 of his 13 seasons with the Boston Celtics, eventually chose to walk onto the court during pregame introductions. He said he was conserving energy. Who would argue with him?
Just play.
For instance, Legacy’s Melissa Jones, one of Friday’s prominent players, should do what she always does, as in distributing the ball or taking it herself.
Highlands Ranch’s Jaclyn Thoman is free to drive like she’s on Interstate 25.
Rebound and defend, Horizon’s Hannah Tuomi.
Throw up a bunch of 3-pointers, Arapahoe’s Levi Knutson and East’s Donell Wells.
Block shots and change others, Doherty’s Garrett Fiddler.
It’s what you do.
There’s no reason to change for Friday.
