Building a super team is a shameful enterprise. But where did we get that notion and when did it start? Here’s my theory:
Barcelona, Spain. 1992.
Amidst the celebration, fanfare, and athletic exhibition taking place in the Olympic Games, the focus was on that one team that we expected the Americans to love, but for some reason was still detested by many, nonetheless: the Dream Team.
The first time I read about NBA superstars joining forces and playing together in the biggest sporting spectacle in human history, I was amazed and excited. This is not the NBA All-Star Games which is a glorified pick-up game. This is a real basketball competition (even if the rest of the field is far from being competitive, to say the least). So I cheered and clapped and savored every fast-break dunk, every crafty assist, and every ego-deflating shot block, watching the local television broadcast of the games of the US men’s basketball team.
And then I saw the reactions and commentaries on the sports page: overkill! Just like that, the Dream Team was demonized. I was shocked not because I found the commentaries unpleasant, but because despite being a fan, a part of me agreed with what I just read.
Today 28 years later, I found online one of the many reproving commentaries—this one from George Black of the Los Angeles Times. He wrote: “Dream Team is a misnomer. Real dreams involve risk.”
If you read the full article, you will realize that it is more about Black’s perception of the changing American values and his commentary about it—people want to do things the easy way, risk-free, etc. Nonetheless, this and other similar works influenced our outlook regarding sports and the values attached to it. One way to look at it is this: the Dream Team represented the Machiavellian win-at-all-costs model, and because of the criticisms, we tried to tone things down by elevating a healthier, more inclusive, and more acceptable narrative: the result is not the most important part of sports, but rather, it is competing and accepting the challenge; it is about the struggle and learning to lose in a dignified manner; it is about the risks of racing towards the unknown. It is about fighting on fair grounds and equity in fighting chances.
So (consciously or not) we shunned the super team model or anything remotely resembling overkill. This is I think the reason why the natural evolution of the champion DNA was stunted. Going back even before the Dream Team was put together, basketball was destined to evolve to become the true epitome of “team sport”, wherein everyone has equal opportunities to be successful while at the same time each one also has an equal share of responsibilities to shoulder so that the team can win.
The era of the franchise player was not meant to last. It was followed by the one-two-punch model wherein teams relied not just on one but two outstanding players: Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen, Kobe and Shaq, and who could forget the immortal “Stockton-to-Malone” quip from the commentator covering a Utah Jazz game in the ‘90s?
It was good for a period of time. But eventually, it was not enough. More is better. Natural progression dictates it should be three this time, and thus the Big 3 model became the new path towards winning: Paul Pierce-Kevin Garnett-Ray Allen; Tim Duncan-Tony Parker-Manu Ginobili; LeBron James-Dwyane Wade-Chris Bosh. Soon there was room for one more superstar, and the Big 4 was born: James-Wade-Bosh-Ray Allen (which won the championship) and the LA Lakers’ Big 4 (Kobe Bryant, Dwight Howard, Steve Nash, Pau Gasol) which, despite the star power, never shone the brightest.
But Golden State quickly made this model passé. Their small ball ushered the era of fielding five agile and versatile basketball players effective on both sides of the court and capable of handling cross-matching in defense. It would be known as the Death Lineup: Stephen Curry, Klay Thompson, Draymond Green, Andre Iguodala, and Kevin Durant.
All of a sudden, the trend puts us back in the path of super teams. Outside, resistance remains alive. Fans booed superstars who left their team to join other superstars and chase a ring. But it fell on deaf ears. There was no more demurring.
No more Big 3 (or 4 or 5 as too). The new normal is 10-deep: load your team with 10 very good players deserving of playing time and rotation. The defending champion Lakers look poised to spearhead this new era.
Maybe this is about changing the narrative. Maybe this is normalizing an approach to winning that shouldn’t have been vilified in the first place. I remember joining amateur basketball tournaments and how I hated the team with a roster so talented no other team has a real shot at winning the championship. In retrospect, it was bitterness and envy. The first time I won a championship with my boyhood team Rascals, I, too, picked the best players I can find who are willing to join me.
Since then, I didn’t allow myself to be swayed by ideas other than this: sports is about winning championships, and champions—as well as soon-to-be-champions —evolve, just as the game is changing and evolving, from how you match up, to how you distribute playing time, load management, career longevity—all of these are changing, even the egos of players, from taking on the task of winning single-handedly to demanding the best support cast and accepting playing in a system for the sake of hoisting a Larry O’Brien trophy.
Many people—scarred by the Dream Team stigma—will not like this, but here is the nature of competitive winners: not that they do not care about the opinion of others, however, they do not let the opinion of others stop them from doing what they think is the right thing to do to achieve their dream.
Sure, if we limit teams to one or two superstars max, the league will be unpredictable and the games will be exciting. But the ultimate goal of winners is not to play exciting basketball. Their goal is to play championship basketball. They are entertaining to watch, but they are not playing basketball to entertain, there is a big difference there. They want to win. And win again. And again if they can.
There was a time not too long ago when being modest was the sign of the gentleman-competitor; when forcefully overpowering an inferior opponent through an overwhelming effort is denounced (while subliminally fueling the aversion to super teams), and being formidable is accepted, but only to a certain degree. Today, this outlook is fast becoming outdated. Look at the line-up of the Lakers and tell me I’m wrong—the only reason there were people who doubted the ability of the LA Lakers to go all the way last season is because the roster was weak, thin, and has too many holes.
Now, there is nothing but the burden of expectation. Back-to-back or bust.
As I read the news about trade movements in the NBA and who LA has been acquiring since free agency began in the effort to bag another championship, I can’t help but think about what my elders used to say, which is very apt for a time like this:
Magugutom ang mahiyain.
Or in this case, hindi (ulit) magcha-champion.
The super team model has been resurrected. The old way was buried in its place.