There's something about the dunk that will never get old. As a sporting culture, we are obsessed with it, and rightfully so. The dunk is like an athletic Euro — a currency which is good almost anywhere. If you can dunk, you're in.
I stand six-foot three inches tall, and I'm often asked if I can dunk. Few questions bother me more than this because I have no choice but to respond with the shameful truth. Twenty pounds ago, I could get up to the rim, but never over it. I'll never know that feeling.
But of course, we've all dunked somewhere. Perhaps it was on a Nerf hoop hanging from the back of your bedroom door or on an eight-foot rim at the local elementary school. Or maybe it was just in a dream you once that seemed so real that you woke up knowing that you could slam with the best of them. We've all had that dream...
And when we have that dream together, it's called the NBA Slam Dunk Contest, a beautiful combination of hype and hope. As a boy, I was much more interested in the dunk contest than the actual All-Star Game. I remember Larry Nance's double dunk, Dominique Wilkins' flying double pump, Spudd Webb's pogo-sticking, Michael being Michael, the Ced Ceballos blindfold, and more.
But then something happened. After Kobe Bryant won the crown in 1997, the contest was suddenly nothing more than a quaint reminder of All-Star Games past. There was nothing more to do, they said. If you've seen one windmill dunk, you've seen them all.
Recently, though, the event has taken on more significance, and this year's version just might've been the best yet. There was Josh Smith soaring over Kenyon Martin's head in the first round before channeling Dominique in the finals. Amare Stoudemire seasoned his dunks with a dash of soccer, courtesy of Suns teammate Steve Nash. (Yes, Chris Andersen only managed to embarrass himself, but at least he gave the other contestants a chance to rest as he had trouble even getting to the rim.)
So is the dunk contest off the endangered species list? Probably not. In fact, as great as this year's battle between the two Mr. Smiths was, the cameras couldn't go more than a minute or two before catching a shot of LeBron James on sideline, watching comfortably in street clothes. Each time we saw LeBron it gave the commentators an opportunity to remind us how many of the league's top dunkers had chosen not to compete. Several reasons were stated, including tender ankles and balky hamstrings.
How to Fix the Dunk Contest
Here's a foolproof way to keep this building interest right where it needs to be:
1. Invite the older guys like Kobe, Vinsanity, Steve Francis, and Tracy McGrady. Ask LeBron while you're at it.
2. The league will need some kind of incentive to get them to play, so here it is: send them straight to the finals. This is good for several reasons. First, there's the obvious ego boost. Second, it builds buzz. While the crowd is watching a bunch of high-flying rookies in the opening round, they'll be thinking about Vince Carter or LeBron James or whoever it is waiting in the finals. Third, it gives us a David and Goliath matchup, which is always interesting
3. Give the dunkers a 60-second clock. We don't need any delays like the ones Andersen gave us on Saturday night. Dunking good, downtime bad.
If we can follow this simple three-step process, the health of the Slam Dunk Contest will be under control for the next several years, and children everywhere will be able to dream of a future full of dunks while watching their heroes bending rims left and right. And what could be better than that?
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