When the game is secondary
All-star weekend often tends to be a blend of basketball and branding
Consider the following scenes from the NBA’s annual bacchanal/business convention known as allstar weekend:
Spike Lee standing on a street corner waiting for the crosswalk signal. Stan Kroenke, whose family owns the Denver Nuggets, holding court in a hotel lobby. Joel Embiid, star centre of the Philadelphia 76ers, making small talk with the governor of North Carolina. An army of personal stylists waiting to be summoned by their clients for some of the flashiest events of the year. And then there were the agents and league officials and sneakerheads and reporters, some of whom travelled great distances to make unconventional requests of the weekend’s main attractions.
“Shout out to my fans in Mongolia!” John Collins of the Atlanta Hawks yelled into a camera the morning before his appearance in the Saturday slam dunk contest.
All-star weekend tends to be a blend of basketball and branding, business and pleasure — a showcase for a powerful league whose global influence continues to expand.
“The whole weekend,” Mike Conley of the Memphis Grizzlies said, “is just a big party.”
The all-star game itself, won by Team LeBron, 178-164, on Sunday night, felt secondary to just about everything else in the host city, as it has for many years. Daryl Morey, general manager of the Houston Rockets, recalled waiting in line in 2006 for one of the more popular parties at all-star weekend in Houston, where he watched Maciej Lampe, a centre from Poland who appeared in 64 career games over parts of three seasons, bypass the line so that he could immediately be waved inside by security.
“And I’m like, ‘Man, I’m behind Maciej Lampe?’ ” said Morey, who would officially join the front office of the Rockets a little more than six weeks later.
All-star weekend has only grown in recent years. One spreadsheet making the rounds in Charlotte listed more than 100 parties, and that did not include many of the more exclusive events. Since the league moved its trade deadline from after the break to before, there is more partying and less dealmaking than there used to be.
“It’s so much more fun,” one prominent agent said at a party that he hosted.
But none of this is meant to suggest that deals do not get done.
On Thursday night, at a downtown hotel bar where patrons sipped $25 cocktails, a crowd of very tall men gathered as a private event wound down at a nearby steakhouse. Among the luminaries who emerged from the event: Adam Silver, the NBA commissioner; Kroenke, who also owns the Los Angeles Rams; Brian Rolapp, the NFL’s chief media and business officer; Bill Simmons, founder of The Ringer; Connor Schell, ESPN’s executive vice-president for content; and Bob Myers, general manager of the Golden State Warriors.
“There are definitely conversations happening,” Morey said. “And there’s serendipity involved. You’re always bumping into people.”
And the shift in the schedule has not pushed aside the league’s most pressing issues. A cloud loomed over the festivities in Charlotte, and it came in the shape of a unibrow. Perhaps you heard? Anthony Davis, the star centre for the Pelicans, requested a trade 10 days before the deadline.
The Pelicans, though, rejected all offers for him and instead hope to reap better players and draft picks in a deal this summer. Last week, Pelicans coach Alvin Gentry called the drama of it all a “dumpster fire.” On Friday, the Pelicans fired their general manager. On Saturday, Davis told reporters that his list of preferred destinations included the New York Knicks and the Los Angeles Lakers. Hours later, Silver said he would like trade demands and discussions to remain behind closed doors.
The Davis situation only underscored how much the topic of player movement dominates the league. Everyone here was fixated on what could happen just over four months from now — at the start of free agency. Will Kevin Durant leave the Warriors? Will Kawhi Leonard spurn the Raptors? Will Kyrie Irving bolt from Boston? And, again, what about Davis?
“No one likes to see an instance,” Silver said, “where a player is demanding that he be traded when he’s still in the middle of a contractual obligation to a team.”
Silver made those remarks, and his wish for private trade discussions, at a news conference before Saturday night’s skills, dunk and three-point competitions.
The media forum, like the carefully co-ordinated outfits stars wore to events around town, has become part of the event’s routine. So has the roll call of courtside A-listers during the dunk contest; this year’s included rappers Quavo, 2 Chainz, J. Cole and Gucci Mane.
All-star weekend was not always so structured — or extravagant. Paul Westphal recalled making his first trip to an allstar game in 1977 as a guard for the Phoenix Suns. The league hosted a modest dinner. Players received commemorative mugs. Anyone associated with the game stayed at the same hotel.
In Charlotte, the streets around the host arena, Spectrum Center, were choked with traffic. Concert flyers hung from every lamppost. And none of the guests, spread among numerous hotels at premium nightly rates, seemed to mind the cold weather as countless lines formed for restaurants, bars and pop-up musical performances.
Given all the extracurriculars, it was easy to forget that basketball was the only reason anyone was here in the first place — and perhaps that was because the only legitimate basketball was being played in a college gymnasium a few miles from downtown. A group of elite teenage prospects, without much fanfare, had convened for the league’s annual Basketball Without Borders Global Camp.
In all, 63 boys and girls from 31 countries played in front of scouts and executives who hoped to identify the sport’s next batch of stars.
“There’s a lot of talent here,” said Brooks Meek, the NBA’s vice-president for international basketball operations.
The spotlight will find them soon enough.