Giannis Antetokounmpo’s NBA Cup final opponent Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and Denver’s Nikola Jokić have deservedly been garnering a lot of MVP buzz a quarter of the way through the regular season. But over three days in Las Vegas, Antetokounmpo added to what is already a pretty convincing case of his own to take home his third NBA MVP trophy. He’s been putting up tremendous numbers all season, averaging a preposterous 32.7 points, 11.5 rebounds and 6.1 assists while logging a 19-rebound triple-double in Tuesday’s final, a 97-81 win over Oklahoma City. But his stat line isn’t existing in a vacuum; he’s looking as dominant, if not moreso, than he ever has. And he’s been deadly from the mid-range this year (as Kevin Garnett gave him props for over the weekend), which is a significant complement to his near-unstoppable inside game. In Tuesday’s showdown between MVP frontrunners, Giannis looked decidedly like the best player on the floor.
When flying out of Las Vegas from Harry Reid International Airport, one finds themselves shopping for magazines and water bottles amid a sea of zombies with blank stares, and it always feels like there’s this strange unspoken elephant in the room: this is a place where almost everyone is hungover, but no one verbally acknowledges it. It was hard not to notice the NBA’s own elephant in the room in Vegas this weekend: that a clear succession plan for a basketball world after LeBron James, Stephen Curry and Kevin Durant doesn’t really exist. The collective holding of breath from the NBA media machine after Curry’s Warriors were eliminated at the quarter-final stage, thus ensuring that no bona fide, tried-and-true needle-mover would be joining the party in Vegas, was palpable. Last year’s inaugural tournament featured James and the Los Angeles Lakers: both of whom have sat atop the NBA’s popularity rankings for decades. This year had no such luck. While the four teams (Milwaukee, Oklahoma City, the Houston Rockets and Atlanta Hawks) certainly made for entertaining basketball for hardcore fans, the brutal truth is that no next-gen star, not Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, not Antetokounpo, has even come close to reaching the popular heights of James or Curry. For reasons perhaps unknowable, they just don’t have the juice. The NBA has a young star marketing problem that doesn’t seem any closer to being solved than it was a couple of years ago, and as James, Curry and Durant inch ever closer to retirement, the issue only grows more urgent.
I’m old enough to remember when, only a few short months ago, pundits were hand-wringing over Isaiah Hartenstein’s three-year, $87m contract. If anything has crystallized over the past few days in Vegas, it’s that the 26-year-old center (whom the Thunder pried from the New York Knicks’ clutches in free agency) was worth every penny. He’s a top-tier example of a jack of all trades, master of none: the exact type of hard-playing Swiss army knife center that the Thunder were so desperately lacking last season. Despite Oklahoma City’s blowout loss in Tuesday’s final, Hartenstein posted 16 points and 12 boards, and looked at times as good as the Thunder’s second best player. There’s speculation that he’ll end up coming off the bench when Chet Holmgren, who is currently sidelined with a hip injury, is back in the lineup. But the Thunder would be wise to think twice about that, as it’s become clear that Hartenstein will play a pivotal role in any success Oklahoma City find this postseason.
The Rockets had a bit of a disappointing showing in their first trip to Vegas for the Cup: they were beaten decisively by an Oklahoma City team that, at times, looked a lot like a one-step-further-evolved version of Houston’s own young, athletic, defensive-minded template. But a clear bright spot was sophomore small forward Amen Thompson, who is not only an incredible defender and tremendous athlete (which was well-understood as early as draft night), but a player who is starting to really come around as an offensive force as well. Thompson was the talk of the town after Saturday’s games despite the loss. Houston should absolutely be considering him a fundamental piece of any core with championship aspirations moving forward.
There’s nothing like a high-stakes environment to illuminate roster flaws, and the Rockets, a feisty and formidable young firecracker of a team, had theirs exposed this weekend. When the game gets tense, as the minutes dwindle, it’s of dire importance to know you have A Guy™️: the one person on your team who, when the ball ends up in their hands, can find a way. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander is that player for Oklahoma City. The Hawks have Trae Young and the Bucks have Giannis (and Damian Lillard, too). Houston, in spite of an embarrassment of riches of exciting young talent, just don’t have on, and that fact was never more apparent than on Saturday in their semi-final loss to the Thunder. With trade season officially commenced, and names like Jimmy Butler and Zach LaVine supposedly on the block, the Rockets would be well-served to go find a Guy™️ of their own.
Plenty of nuance goes into NBA awards voting, and it’s not uncommon for MVP frontrunners to be more representative of compelling narratives (cough, cough, Russell Westbrook) than an actual time capsule of who was the best player in the league that year. But one such adjacent measuring stick, besides just the literal award, is the evergreen barber shop discussion of which players in the league could comfortably be expected to be the best player on a championship team. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, somewhat disappointing showing (by his immense standards) in the Cup final aside, has shown himself to absolutely tick that box. It truly looked at times like he was playing the game with his own proverbial sliders turned all the way up against Houston in Saturday’s semis, slicing and dicing their formidable defense and getting whatever shot he wanted with remarkable ease, eliciting “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd with his ball-handling finesse. One thing has become abundantly clear: Alexander is a surefire, bona fide superstar.
Traditions often feel as though they’ve always existed, floating in some timeless space without needing a clear beginning. But the reality is that everything must start somewhere, and nothing can replicate the gravity that only years of history can provide. Even a prestigious NBA championship carries its gravitas only because we, collectively, decided it matters. Despite the NBA’s most convincing Rosario Dawson-backed, Emirates-funded endorsements to the contrary, the NBA Cup doesn’t really matter yet. The artificial pomp and circumstance, and copious amounts of sponsorship dollars and advertising around it, are evidence that the league would really, really like for it to matter right-the-hell-now, but there’s no substitute for the passage of time. Someday, it will organically begin to have significance, but that time isn’t now. That’s why its legacy isn’t really about the players in this year’s Cup, or even next year’s. They’re ultimately doing the dirty work by laying the foundation, creating the history that will bring reverence to the event years from now.
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