What Happened to the Good Old Days?

It has long been said that sport is a microcosm of society. Applying that idiom to basketball as it pertains to the good ol' US of A, you'll see that it is a theory that bears itself out.

In the early years of the league, there were few true greats of the game — those who excelled were generally stoic, blue-collar players who brought their lunch pails to the game and did everything "by the book." The working class of America was very much the same ... hard-working, unspectacular, and bereft of real headline-grabbing stars, yet consistently effective in all that they did.

Moving ahead on the timeline, the ABA became a more fan-friendly basketball fare with it's kaleidoscopic basketball, oversized afros, and jaw-dropping action it was a much more palatable version of a sport America was growing to love. Likewise, new technology began to spring up in society during that time, boasting flashiness never before seen in the various industries, but not yet accepted as mainstream enough to be little more than a novelty.

With the integration of pro basketball's two major leagues, a new era began in 1976, merging the traditional pomp and circumstance of the NBA with the eccentric high-flying styles of the ABA. It is no coincidence that this also marks a revolution of sorts within mainstream America in terms of new technologies being universally accepted. The new age of the United States began at about this time as everything from Post-It notes to satellite imagery came into the country's mainstream consciousness, bringing convenience, user-friendliness, and flash to previously unheard of levels.

Looking still further into this topic, you see the glory years of Magic Johnson and Larry Legend coinciding with a feel-good era of self-sufficiency in our nation. Michael Jordan brought to light a singular importance and excellence that undoubtedly could be seen replicated throughout the business world in America, but one that was tempered with the realization that no man is an army and that even those at the height of their respective fields needed a strong supporting cast. A feeling was created that the ceiling was limitless and that any person or group could accomplish whatever they wanted as long as they wanted it badly enough and went about their business understanding the import of others.

Now, as we see the world from a much more global point of view, David Stern's modern NBA is very much a worldly commodity. America's excellence isn't as evident in the sport, and it certainly has come into question from a political standpoint, as well. The unilateralism that has grown to be a trademark of U.S. politics and policies in recent years can be seen on the hardwood, and this is not necessarily a good thing. The Euros that understand the importance of teamwork and hard work have begun to excel and succeed while the arrogant countrymen that represent America continue to insist that success of the one outweighs the greater good of the whole.

While it might seem trite to relate the NBA to politics, the reality of the situation is that the two are not mutually exclusive. A tone is set within the youth and the public consciousness that cannot be ignored as those youths and that public consciousness apply their life-lessons to day-to-day living.

While this article may, to this point, be reading as a political diatribe, the underlying idea here is to bring to light an interesting synergy between the NBA and the cultural climate of the county on the whole. It can be said that Kobe Bryant's 81-point explosion was nothing more than a singularly gifted athlete pushing himself to a performance that has seldom been seen. While that is the easy answer, a secondary take on the matter points to a burgeoning me-first attitude that is symptomatic of lessons being taught to our youngsters on a much lower level.

The media hypes and re-hypes all things accomplished in sport these days. Lead-ins on "SportsCenter" talk of superstar performances and flash high-wire slam-dunks across the screen. Boys and girls strive to be known as singular entities rather than as moving parts on a successful machine. Yet time and time again, it is the mechanical rhythm of a successful group (see: San Antonio Spurs or Detroit Pistons) that leads to championship glory. Sad thing is, it isn't that championship that brings glory any longer, not to the youngest generation. Professional basketball, in my opinion, is one big reason why this is the case.

While it makes sense to market individuals as a matter of lucrative fact, it teaches all the wrong lessons to those who need the most teaching. Today's high school point guards and power forwards are tomorrow's doctors and teachers and congressmen. More importantly, today's athletes are tomorrow's voters, and if they are taught that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, then they will ignore the blue-collar humanitarian that keeps a low profile, but stands for all the right things for all the right reasons. Worse yet, they may choose to neglect all comers altogether.

This line of thought begs the age-old question, which came first, the chicken or the egg? Is sport a reflection of society, or is society built around the fundamentals that we all learn through participation in team and individual sports? Does Allen Iverson hoist 25 shots a game because he feels it gives his team the best shot at winning, or does he throw those shots up there because he knows individual performance is the easiest way to feed himself and his family?

These questions are all, in essence, unanswerable. You'll have your opinion and I'll have mine. Neither is right, nor is either particularly incorrect. But to approach the point with indifference is part-and-parcel to the greater problem: are we glorifying the wrong type of greatness and is this false glorification tearing the fabric of our culture?

There is a good reason our NBA forefathers stressed winning to their children and their fans. They understood the importance the "finer points" of sport held when exposed to the societal whole — a reality that is far too often overlooked by today's athletes. While league coffers will undoubtedly continue to overflow as the next best ballplayer puts his own name in lights, the lessons our country's youth is learning remain increasingly dulled by the spectacular glow of fame and fortune.

These men, we must remember, are all rich beyond comprehension. They don't care what lessons they teach or what type of character they portray. They do what they do and get rewarded handsomely for it. That, my friends, is the nature of the beast and it is a beast that cannot be tamed by you or me. But it can be fixed.

The next time you watch Kobe assault another scoring record or check out Paul Pierce trying to carry an undermanned Beantown squad on his back, realize that you are watching professionally paid athletes making their "ends," so to speak. I'm not here to demean what they do, because, frankly, the Celts and Lakers have little chance at attaining team glory without individual excellence from one of their respective stars.

It is not the A.I.'s or the Kobe's or the LeBron's of the world that I direct my writing to. Rather, it is the Ricky Davis's and the Kwame Brown's to which I refer — those trying to score so they can get a highlight on ESPN or dogging it down the floor because they are put off that this play wasn't called for them. While they may get fat contracts or countless chances to prove they are more than just exceptionally gifted yet altogether too maladjusted human beings, they should not be looked upon as successes. A cameo on the "Ultimate Highlight" should not be the be-all, end-all to their life stories.

Take a look at your children and wonder to yourself if they understand the import they could have on society, if properly managed and effectively taught the lessons our fathers taught us. Don't assume that they comprehend the context of every show of aggression or flaunting of individual skill. Don't shrug off a Kevin Garnett groin-grabbing dunk as he wears his nation's colors on the Olympic stage. As a parent or a coach or a teacher, you are responsible for providing direction and clarity in an increasingly misguided and cloudy world.

Years of inaction and indifference have brought us a bevy of prima donna basketball players who care more about profit margins than margins of victory. Don't assume your eighth grade basketball star will be the next great singular talent at his high school or your college alma mater. Hope for it, wish for it, but don't let the youth be fooled into thinking Stuart Scott and Bill Walton are the deciding factor in what matters and what doesn't.

The lesson this teaches is far too damaging for us to ignore.