Bethlehem Says

I will always be partial to Stern, at least superficially, because of his unmistakably Jewish persona. Let’s get that out of the way. I will also never cease to trumpet his staunch Democratic credentials, when it comes to everything except for—well, doing his job. He started out a union-buster, was the NBA’s choice for its last stand against free agency, and has always made a point of going at labor ruthlessly, almost competitively, as if it were his form of bloodsport. These days, it’s hard to reconcile anti-labor bravura with any kind of left-ish leanings. 

Here’s where we would do well to remember something about sports commissioners: They are not installed to rule over players and owners alike. Kenesaw Mountain Landis was a prehistoric being, not a precedent; even the most transformative figures, like Roger Goodell or Stern during the Jordan Era, served at the pleasure of the league’s owners. Larry O’Brien, Tommy Craggs’s great champion (our first in-person meeting was a three-hour long argument about Stern), was very nearly an activist, lecturing the owners about what was fair and right in this world. He was as structurally unlikely as Landis. The rest of these guys are just doing a job. David Stern is a character, at once endearing and a total prick. But just as the league’s best days allow him to assume the guise (and stereotype) of big-hearted showbiz tycoon, so the lean, or bitter, ones demand he scorch the earth. We know something of Stern’s personality, and his politics. The internal contradictions that cling so readily to him are a function of his ironbound sense of duty. The man isn’t a chameleon. Above all else, David Stern is the most ruthless kind of professional. 

Earlier today, Ray Ratto pointed out to me that Stern, as much as he may secretly resent it, has no choice but to protect the interests of mediocre owners. The smart ones are in the minority and they’re probably balanced out by the utter morons, anyway. This is not meant as a defense of David Stern, but an explanation for his seemingly revolting behavior here: He’s an employee. As usual, it’s the guys at the top who ruin everything. Granted, he’s closer, and more culpable, than the players ever could be. But at the end of the day, even David Stern works for someone.

I don’t doubt that David Stern has real feelings. Despair, or at least the hyperbolic idea of it, might be among them, somewhere. However, the exact structure of them, and the way they resolve way down in his gut and up high behind those glasses, is probably a mystery to everyone, save his analyst. Whoever that great and lucky man is. 

Eddy Curry is the root of all evil. The NBA’s guaranteed deals have no way of holding Eddy Curry accountable, and this will always be a sore spot with fans—one owners have always done a good job of exploiting. Owners and fans, they’re in the same boat, gettng jobbed by unionized slobs like Eddy Curry. It’s pretty much the American right in miniature.

The obvious retort is well, tough. The Knicks signed him, they have to deal with it. Because of the way NBA contracts work, there’s a certain amount of risk built into deals. But Curry was an honest mistake on their part; he wasn’t another Jerome James. Curry is robbing the Knicks blind. However, if we’re going to apply this standard to players, what about the people making the decisions? Curry is one player. His superiors: then-GM Isiah Thomas, or arch-fiend owner James Dolan, are both splendidly incompetent at their jobs. And yet throughout this lockout, we’ve been told that NBA teams are losing money, and players must acknowledge this tough fact and make sacrifices.

Dolan is only one such case; there’s no shortage of owners whose competence, even their sanity, can be questioned on a regular basis. On the most basic level, though, dealing with the ups and downs of the economy, and generally running a business well, are the ownership version of accountability. What’s more, their actions effect dozens, hundreds, even thousands of people. Eddy Curry really only impacts his roster’s cap figure. Dolan, and his cronies, could sign an entire roster’s worth of Curry’s. And there are far more financial decisions that go into running a sports team than picking players.

Yet the entire discussion has addressed owners’ supposed financial woes as if they were owed special treatment. This isn’t the American economy at stake; there’s no such thing as an NBA team too big to fail. The league will continue to exist.

Player accountability of some form is probably a good thing. The NFL’s model, whereby big name players who have aged too fast or paid too much are cut to cover up the front office’s mistakes, is probably not the best one. This does nothing, though, to address the owners, who—like the financial sector during the bailout—have set their own incompetence as part of the ground rules in this labor dispute. As long as that’s the case, there’s no reason to expect the players to suddenly stand up and be the adults in the room. Eddy Curry-like cases make easy scapegoats, but they represent a very small percentage of the league’s players. It just doesn’t make sense to compare his impact to that of Dolan’s. And where there’s Dolan, there’s also Sterling, Sarver, and other nitwits tasked with making sure teams as wholes, in all senses, amount to something.

Maybe the rift shouldn’t be between large and small markets, but owners who deserve to keep their jobs, and maybe get a little bit of a bump with revenue streams suffering, and those who are, in essence, expecting the players to bail their dumb asses out.