Carmelo The Durable Good, by Paul Shirley

Carmelo The Durable Good, by Paul Shirley

We’ve all been told the following maxim, probably by a kind but also gruff great-uncle with a luxurious graying mustache, or maybe by a father who’s just kicked the fender of an American car that has recently shot craps:

You get what you pay for.

Its tiredness makes it no less true, especially in the NBA. As basketball fans, we don’t want things to be this way. We want Hoosiers to be the norm. But we forget that there was a reason they made a movie out of Hoosiers – it only happened once.

When I first heard that the Denver Nuggets had finally traded Carmelo Anthony to the New York Knicks, my initial response was to decry the trade as ludicrous on the part of the Knicks. Pairing a prone-to-sullenness superstar (Anthony) with a prone-to-getting-hurt superstar (Amare Stoudemire) seemed as reasonable as sending your voluptuous teenage daughter to Italy to be Silvio Berlusconi’s “housekeeper.”

I was not alone. Fans and pundits decried the trade, wondering why the Knicks had allowed themselves to be fleeced of Danilo Gallinari, Raymond Felton and any hope of a future in the off chance that Anthony and Stoudemire can figure out how to play together.

But I settled down and thought about the why of the trade. For example, why, if Gallinari is so valuable, were the Nuggets already shopping him, hoping to turn the Italian Medallion into a future first-round pick?

I’ll tell you why – because whether you or I like it, one Danilo Gallinari isn’t enough to win an NBA championship. Twelve Danilo Gallinaris isn’t enough to win an NBA championship.

Once every twenty-five years or so, a team made up of role players might win it all in the NBA. But usually, the smart money is on teams comprised of high-priced players and established stars.

This sucks. But if we’ve learned nothing from the Big Momma’s House franchise, we’ve learned this: Just because something sucks doesn’t mean it will stop happening.

This also may help explain why people don’t respond all that well to the NBA. In the NBA, individual talent is magnified. One player can have more effect on the game than he can in other team sports. In basketball, one player is equal to 20 percent of the team on the court. In baseball, one player is equal to 10 percent of the team on the field, including the pitcher) In football, it’s something less than 5 percent (22 players, not including special teams). The percentage increases when we realize that, in basketball, the team has more control over who’s involved in the plays.

As such, extreme individual talent plays a more significant role in the NBA than it does in any of the other team sports. People don’t relate all that well to extreme talent. Most people aren’t extremely talented, so they relate to hard work, to teamwork, and to elusive concepts like “chemistry.” These factors matter in the NBA, but they don’t matter much.*

But I didn’t set out to figure out why people watch sports. I set out to decide whether the Carmelo Anthony trade was good for the New York Knicks.

Assuming that neither Anthony nor Stoudemire gets hurt (a rather wide assumption, when one recalls that the cartilage in Stoudemire’s knees looks like shag carpet) the Knicks will probably be good enough to go to the playoffs for the next several years. If one of a few things goes right – if Knicks coach Mike D’Antoni convinces his former Suns point guard, Steve Nash, to give up on that whole loyalty-to-Phoenix thing, or if another semi-star decides he wants a part in the Carmare Show, or if LeBron James gets hurt – the Knicks might have a chance to win an NBA championship.

Fans often forget that the point, in sports, is not to win a championship, but to give one’s team a chance to win a championship. I know, it sounds like I’m parroting the least-intelligent member of your favorite team. But it turns out that this is no cliché. As in life, in sports – there is no controlling everything. The Yankees could spend $500 million on a team and NOT win the World Series. You could treat your wife like a princess and she still might bang that shifty insurance salesman with the ponytail.

The goal, in building any team’s roster, is to give it enough talent to have a chance to win. After that, it – where “it” means everything else – is up to the players.

By this rubric, the Knicks did well in the Raymond Felton Trade. They’ve given themselves a chance to win the whole shootin’ match, as that same mustachioed uncle might have said. They probably won’t win the whole shootin’ match – while Anthony and Stoudemire fit into the category of “Extremely Talented,” I’m not sure they fit into the category of “Talented Enough” – but they weren’t going to win the whole shootin’ match before. And, regardless, they’ll sell plenty of jerseys and tickets and go to the playoffs and win more often than they lose.

And this, ladies and gentleman, is more important than you think. Because whether we like it or not, basketball – like every sport – is a business. And winning – regular, old-fashioned, beating-the-Milwaukee-Bucks-twice-a-year-at-home – makes money. It is far better for the bottom line to win 50 games a year for ten years than it is to win 30 for seven and 70 for three. And in the NBA, two extremely talented players will probably be worth fifty wins a year.

Business, then, is at the heart of why the trade was good for the Knicks but hated by everyone else. Fans don’t want to think of sport as an exercise in economics and/or predictability. They want to think about sick dunks and a sold-out Garden and silky alley-oops thrown by ‘Melo and received by ‘Mare. (Good luck. Have you ever seen Carmelo Anthony pass the ball? Because I haven’t.) They want to think that their team is winning because it plays together, because it practices hard, because it meets down at Buffalo Wild Wings for extra film sessions. They want to believe in guys like Danilo Gallinari and Raymond Felton.

What they don’t want is to be reminded that, in the NBA, you get what you pay for. In the Carmelo Anthony trade, the Knicks paid a lot, and they’ll probably be better off for it.

* Unless you’re the San Antonio Spurs, someone might say, and rather churlishly, I might add. It’s true that the Spurs are famous for finding undervalued talent and holding onto it. The Spurs’ general manager, RC Buford, is the Warren Buffett of professional basketball. He understands value. Or so people say. The problem with what people say is that they forget how good Tim Duncan is.

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