Derek Fisher is not Oscar Robertson. Billy Hunter is not Jerry
West. This is not going to be some historical labor milestone; it’ll be a time
remembered—or maybe forgotten—for ineptitude and indifference. What players
will characterize as a momentous stand against unrelenting owners, really, is just
a sign of the times. You know, the whole protesting and being a part of a
transcendent political moment thing. But, sorry, the times, they’re NOT a-changin.’
In 1964, facing untenable labor conditions, a group of
players, led by Robertson and Elgin Baylor, threatened to walkout and not play
the all-star game if the owners didn’t reassess the players’ plea for a pension
system.
Unsurprisingly, the owners were furious. This, of course, was
during a time where there was an actual racial component to labor discussions,
not the forced “plantation” references that are thrown around loosely today. As
a blizzard was howling outside the Boston
Garden , things became increasingly
icy inside.
But, really, Walter Kennedy, the NBA’s president—the forerunner
to commissioner—had no leverage. This was one of the league’s first nationally televised
games, an opportunity to gain support and begin competing for advertising
dollars. If he did nothing, the league would lose much-needed credibility.
Because of this, Kennedy gave in and the players’ demands
were eventually met. Less than a decade later, Robertson was headlining a piece
of legislation that would totally rewrite free-agency rules; players could now
negotiate with other teams, causing a major spike in the player salaries, in the
process.
But what about today? Are we really debating anything that’s
game changing? No, it’s nothing more than a few petty disagreements over system
issues.
You say tomato; I say tomahto…Of course, instead of
realizing this will be the best deal they’ll get, the NBAPA is calling the whole
thing off.
There has been no attempt—especially from the owners—to have
a healthy discourse about system issues until recently. Why did it take until
the late-October for the owners to offer a semi-reasonable deal? Why is the
NBAPA dissolving its union now?
It’s simple, really. Each side is stuck in its ways, and
neither one is going down without a totally unnecessary fight. It’s Capitol
Hill meets the hardwood, which is something David Stern probably doesn’t want
to create an ad campaign around, I’d imagine.
But for now, there is no ‘amazing’ in sight; it’s the NBA:
Where Filibuster Happens.
Whether you feel that the owners’ ultimatum/offer was fair
is pretty insignificant, at this point. More than likely, you probably thought
the players made an acceptable amount of concessions, and the owners’ last
offer was enough to get the players out of Kangaroo Court and on the basketball
court.
But, really, at this point, it’s not about what’s fair or
foul; it’s about smart and stupid, and the players’ decision to leave this
offer on the table was the latter.
I’m not necessarily suggesting it was a fair deal, but it
was the best they’d ever get. There’s some recent historical precedent for
this, too. Given another opportunity, I’d bet that Hunter would take one of the
initial incarnations of the eventual deal he signed in 1999. Bill Guerin, one
of the NHL players’ leading voices during the 2004-2005 lockout, has publicly urged
NBAPA to avoid making the same mistakes the NHLPA made.
But this is the players’ “proverbial” moment. They are
fighting for change, for a better system. Public perception—especially from
those that aren’t hardcore NBA fans—is that this is a petty battle between millionaires
and billionaires. The NBAPA, however, is playing right into the owners’ hands. A
vocal group of hard-line owners—spearheaded by Charlotte’s Michael Jordan and
Milwaukee’s Herb Kohl—wants to cancel the season, especially those who balked
at offering the players a 50-50 split of BRI (basketball-related income).
You could see the twinkle in Stern’s eye when he was giving
his post-mortem chat after the NBAPA’s press conference. He was smug, he was
condescending, and he was delivering talking points created by some PR maven. The
commissioner, ever the seasoned lawyer, sounded like he was preparing for
political battle.
After a few final jabs, he told the players to prepare for
the NBA’s “nuclear winter,” a characterization he borrowed from Kobe Bryant.
If only things were as “cold” as they were in February 1964,
then, maybe this would fit. Instead, we’re supposed to believe the players are
fighting some tangible injustice. Really, though, it just feels like a bad
session of Congress that will be exemplified by—what else—gridlock.
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