All-Star Game Rundown: The Kiss Steals The Show
By Judd Olanoff, Neurotic New Yorker
The Barkley-Bavetta race, a brilliantly entertaining and hilariously well-marketed circus act, stole the otherwise conventional show at the NBA's Las Vegas All-Star Weekend. Calls for the race began when Charles Barkley declared on TNT that an old man couldn't outrun him, and gained momentum when Barkley stood by his claim over a month-long period. So, on Saturday night the 67-year-old NBA ref and the rotund former superstar ran three-and-a-half lengths of the 94-foot court, prompting this legitimate concern, at least from my perspective: Either participant could easily have suffered some kind of potentially fatal cardiac trauma, each for different reasons, but each with equal likelihood. If Barkley's public image accurately reflects his lifestyle, then he subsists on a steady diet of Krispy Kreme donuts and walking from his parking space to the TNT analysts' desk, his most strenuous exercise routine. And as for Bavetta, even superhuman 67-year-olds should stick to light jogging.

Either Barkley and Bavetta are naturally magnificent product marketers, or the NBA instructed them on how to behave most outrageously. They squared off at center court before the race, like Rocky and Ivan Drago. Barkley, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, mocked a stone-faced and deadly serious Bavetta, who ripped off his warm-ups to reveal a carefully conceived runner's outfit. Then, in the race's last lap, Barkley ran the last few strides backwards to taunt Bavetta, who dove for the finish line and cut open his knee, only to fall short. Bavetta inexplicably planted a post-race kiss on Barkley's lips in front of a national television audience. The whole charade was so absurdly funny, it couldn't have been written in a script. As a young NBA Hall of Famer, Barkley should be ashamed of himself for failing to convincingly speed past a man well into senior citizenship. And Bavetta deserves a band-aid, a medal and a raise.

Speaking of All-Star Weekend, the NBA needs to dump half of its current material. Keep the Rookie-Sophomore Challenge, the Three-Point Shootout, the Skills Competition and the Dunk Contest. But throw away the Celebrity Game and the Three-Person team shooting contest. We don't want to watch Carrot Top play full-court basketball on prime time. Watching a reasonably skilled player like Bow Wow is moderately intriguing, but if we're looking to watch high quality basketball, we'll wait for the actual NBA All-Star game and the second half of the regular season.

Also, someone in the New Orleans Saints organization needs to get fired ASAP for letting Reggie Bush, the core of the franchise's future, play in the aforementioned meaningless Celebrity Game. Of course, Bush rolled his ankle playing in the useless outing. Could the Saints make a more colossally stupid decision? Might as well send Bush on an off-season hike up Mount Everest, a quick amateur cliff-diving expedition or a stint in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. There are high schools in this country that don't allow varsity basketball players to play pick-up with non-varsity athletes. But the Saints want to allow Reggie Bush to break his ankle on Carrot Top's foot. Great idea-let's mortgage the entirety of the franchise's precious, newly valuable future. It's for the good of the NBA All-Star Celebrity Game. What better cause?

The three-person team shooting contest is painful too. Don't subject real talents like Tony Parker and Chauncey Billups to this sacrilege. First of all, dressing Bill Lambier and George Gervin in tank-tops and cutting to close-ups of them desperately heaving up wayward 20-foot jumpshots is not a recipe for successful television. And nothing against the WNBA, but last I checked, this was advertised as the NBA All-Star game, and viewers tuned in to watch NBA participants. The WNBA certainly deserves an All-Star game-its own All-Star game. WNBA players shouldn't be lumped in with the NBA's weekend; it's unfair to the WNBA players and to the fans who expected something different.

As for the Dunk Contest, Dwight Howard indeed got robbed of the first-place trophy. This year the NBA wisely entrusted Dunk Contest judging duties to a panel of first-team all-time dunkers, including Michael Jordan, Julius Erving, Vince Carter and Kobe Bryant. But even this first-rate group continued an unfortunate practice that has plagued dunk contests for years: bald-faced, wholly unjustified, morally unprincipled height discrimination.

It's common sense that dunking is a guard's art. Small players' finesse dunks look nicer to fans than do forwards' power dunks. But it's not Dwight Howard's fault that he's 6'11", 240 lbs. If Nate Robinson and Howard pull off the same dunk, judge them by the same criteria. Don't favor Robinson because he's a foot shorter. If the NBA insists on punishing Howard for his height, then don't invite him to the dunk contest in the first place. All I know is this: Gerald Green's was awesome-he jumped over Robinson and covered his eyes in a Dee Brown throwback-but Howard jumped, fastened a sticker to the backboard about 12 feet in the air, and dunked. That's originality. At least send Howard to the contest's final round. If you're going to punish him for being 6'11", you might as well tell him in advance, and he'll rightly stay home.

Phil's Choke Is No Joke

Phil Mickelson's most recent astounding meltdown-his choke at this weekend's Nissan Open-just confirmed that he is, by every measure, the anti-Tiger. Needing only a par on 18 to win the tournament, Phil pushed his drive out left, shockingly pulled out an 8-iron on his approach shot from 200+ yards in the rough, left the approach short, and made bogey, just enough to give the tournament away to Charles Howell. Phil is a major choker-the most dramatic choker of this generation of professional golf. His dumbfounding mistakes in the clutch are both mechanical and mental. Phil can practice as many consecutive three-foot putts as he likes; he will never fully exorcise the choke demon, which gives Phil his goofy personality, and which, most starkly, separates Phil from golf's anti-choke, the ultimate champion, Tiger Woods.

Two NBA Notes

1) Nothing can prove Steve Nash's continuing MVP worth more than the result of his recent injury absence on the Suns; 2) I was the only basketball writer in North America who picked the Knicks to win 35 games this year, and they're on precisely that pace. Granted, I made errors with respect to the Clippers and Grizzlies, but I'd call the Knicks prediction nothing short of spectacular.

Issue 16, Submitted 2007-02-21 02:42:11