It’s been a turbulent summer for the NBA. And although the league’s problems may seem fairly trivial next to the legal issues being faced by the NFL, I can’t help but feel anxious about the direction and future of the league.
On one hand, the Association has never been in better shape. Economically, league revenues are at an all-time high, meaning owners and players alike are reaping the benefits from more than a decade of shrewd and calculated decision making by the league. Add in the league’s soaring TV ratings, the bevy of top-tier talent and a topsy-turvy summer of player movement, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for sustained success.
But let’s get something clear very quickly these victories are David Stern’s. Adam Silver is not David Stern. Not yet.
Half a year has passed since Silver took the mantle of league commissioner and to be fair, Silver has handled every challenge with a level of charisma and class which may have been lacking during Stern’s tenure. But fans would be ill advised to forget how the league got to where it is today.
When Stern took over the league in 1984, he inherited a damaged brand: league popularity was dwindling, games had limited national reach on television, and for a period the very future of the league seemed as though it may have been in doubt. Stern changed everything. But he didn’t do it by pandering. Stern succeeded by ruling with a legendary iron fist which has become the a staple of NBA mythology and lore.
My favourite story? It’s 1998 and the lockout is in full swings. Games have already been cancelled and the league is teetering on total disarray. The league and players call another negotiation session to try and hammer out details that could lead to a new collective agreement.
David Stern and a group of owners enter the negotiation room and join the player representatives – a group which includes all-stars Kevin Johnson (Phoenix Suns), Patrick Ewing (New York Knicks) and Kenny Smith (Houston Rockets). Stern takes a seat and silently looks around the room, assessing the situation. Without batting an eyelid Stern says “you’re not ready to negotiate,” stands up and walks out of the room. Negotiation over.
It’s a stark contrast to the way Adam Silver has branded himself over the course of the past seven months. Stern never left any doubt who was in charge. Silver is beginning to blur those lines. And while, at face value, it may seem beneficial to have a commissioner willing to bridge the gap between the owners and the players association, it could spell disaster as the league prepares to take an enormous leap over the course of the next half decade.
