a funhouse of horrors
is anything enjoyable anymore?
Does traveling exist in the National Basketball Association? Youtuber Mark Phillips (Mr. Supreme Dreams, who recently met his and my own hero, Lebron James, in what’s probably my favorite internet moment) believes the answer is no; given many many internet spats and referee ‘oversights’, I might be inclined to believe him. The application of rules within the NBA more broadly seems wishy-washy at times: Kevin Durant once placed both feet firmly out of bounds and saved a ball to one of his then-teammates on the Warriors--no regulatory action followed. LeBron walked with a basketball in his hand for about a quarter-length of the court before dribbling; again, not one whistle was blown, and the game continued with nary a hiccup (to the dismay of numerous members of the opposing Utah Jazz). Venture into any social media space dedicated to basketball, from TikTok ball accounts to YouTube Shorts, and you’ll find people arguing about whether or not a pivot foot was lifted, or if a stepback constitutes a travel.
Rules conscript many games, and for good reason: without rules, games can’t make sense (how do you ‘play’ a game without knowing how to play?). They’re necessary for regulating unfair or unnecessary behavior. When a game isn’t self-regulated, referees volunteer or are hired to keep the peace, and the order. But: do rules help, or make, the game? Rules in basketball have sometimes hurt players, and basketball itself: the anti-dunking rule instituted in 1967 by the NCAA unfairly penalized above-the-rim play and seemingly targeted a young Lew Alcindor’s (now Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) dominant tactics. New foul-calling regulations have quickened offenses, punished defenses, and sometimes slowed games down into foul-shot litigation; James Harden used to make his living off of overplayed foul calls. Moreover, international rules differ from national rules; the International Basketball Federation does not allow fouls committed for the purposes of stoppage of play and switching possession, while United States college and national rules almost encourage such tactics to slow the game clock down. Rules differ in the U.S. from the collegiate to professional level as well; and because of regulations which had previously prevented players from going professional immediately out of high school, collegiate powerhouses in football and basketball dominate tournament play and make outcomes predictable and at times boring. How many times has Alabama or Georgia made it to the Bowl series; how many times has Duke, UNC, or Kentucky made it to the Final Four during March Madness?
The capitalization of sports into corporate entities and sponsorships has had an effect on them as well; even video games have become an outlet for players to make money, replete with huge viewership audiences and the attendant commercials and money interests. This isn’t necessarily all bad; however, capital injection into the realms of fun has created yet another set of rules, albeit informal, which govern players’ behavior
While I may be alone in this sentiment, in my prime ball-watching days--skipping homework assignments to tune in to weekend games and catching all of March Madness on my friend’s phones during class--I always preferred college basketball to the pros. Michigan State’s hard-fought appearances in the national tournament and numerous Big Ten championships roused me as the son of an alum, but even the freakish talents playing for perennial number 1’s Duke, UNC, and Kentucky could catch my attention when the Big Ten network had nothing on. Basketball on this level always has stirring moments, where a 5’9” point guard can hit eight treys in a night and steal a game away or a redhead who likes getting his ass eaten can put up 30 off the bench on a dominant Villanova squad. Call me an asshole, but I can’t bring myself to particularly care whether players earning millions of dollars for corporations ‘earning’ billions win or lose at a sport which, at its core, is supposed to be about having a good time.
Players have even begun shapeshifting: as the league becomes more and more competitive as larger sums of money enter its markets and team configurations, hyper-specialized body types are selected for by teams who wanted rim protectors and slashers, but now want positionless light scorers--as the league’s team play changes, so too will the favorable body compositions that teams seek in athletes. NBA-level competition is dominated by freaks of nature, groomed since youth via AAU leagues and summer ball camps which can cost hundreds upon thousands of dollars to enter and compete; the NBA is suburbanizing, with more and more of its players coming from comfy backgrounds with parents who can afford to pay the cost of admission.
In a league supposedly setting the standard for player autonomy and empowerment, the mere idea of stoppage of play (as suggested by Brooklyn Nets guard Kyrie Irving) during the pandemic and uprisings of 2020 to prioritize the sociopolitical moment was quickly smothered in favor of slogans on jerseys, speeches, and statements from players instead of strikes and actions; this too is an unwritten rule of sports. Political dissent is tolerated, but only to a point; in the NFL, even political gesturing is off-the-table.
Sports didn’t always look like this; in the much-maligned early days of the NBA and its competitor league which it later absorbed in a corporate merger (the American Basketball Association), players would have side jobs and were not constrained as much by a league self-obsessed with its outward-facing ‘brand’ or ‘image’; the league averages in height and weight were closer to the national average, and the fun of the game was watching regular joes pull off spectacular feats.
When every human activity becomes hyper-commercialized, ‘fun’ becomes a commodity fetish to be managed and sold to us as if we can’t create enjoyment in our own lives. Amusement parks sell daily tickets and even season passes (to whom, I cannot imagine; who is going to Six Flags multiple times a year? It’s the same rides.) for increasingly technical rides which try to replicate fear and excitement in extremely controlled environments. Top Thrill Dragster, at my formerly local theme park Cedar Point, is possibly the largest proponent of this fun façade: the coaster runs you up to the top of a very narrow, very steep track before dropping you 400+ ft and hitting speeds upwards of 100mph, but the whole experience only lasts 14 seconds. I remember being scared shitless up until I sat and strapped in, by which time it was over before I knew we were moving.
Curiosity, exploration, childish glee, surprise: we try to replicate these feelings in culture, media, sports, and in technology, but nothing can truly approach the starry-eyed way we once viewed the world as kids. Yet, increasingly, we move away even from the attempted reproduction of these emotions in favor of more extreme responses: fun begets competition; thrill begets distress, conflict, and finally resolution.
The central question is this: why have we allowed ‘fun and games’ to become grotesque caricatures of true joy, legislated them into strictures, and capitalized them as money-making operations?
The simple answer: I don’t know. But it sure does suck.
