It's finally time to bid farewell to the ‘face of the NBA'

Washington Post

2 days ago

The question persists, oblivious to the NBA's new countermovement. Who will be the next face of the league? Everyone wants to know; no one wants to claim it. LeBron James, whose kingly mug has dominated attention for two decades, got in his feelings earlier this season and downplayed the importance of a line of succession.
'Why do you want to be the face of a league when all the people that cover and talk about our game on a day-to-day basis s--- on everybody?' James wondered. 'To have that responsibility is just weird. It's weird energy.'
His frustration is reasonable, actually, even though James has benefited from being the superstar of all superstars far more than he has suffered. The league has grown to a point at which the unofficial role should be outdated. It had long come with savior vibes, dating from when Larry Bird and Magic Johnson boosted the NBA's popularity and Michael Jordan took it to a new stratosphere of cultural resonance. Today, the fate of the sport doesn't sit on the shoulders of any single, transcendent star. All 30 franchises are estimated to be worth more than $3 billion. In March, the Boston Celtics' sale came with a record $6.1 billion valuation.
The face of the NBA is a title with diminished meaning and murky criteria that punishes candidates as much as it promotes them. There won't be another rivalry as significant as Bird vs. Magic. Changes to marketing and celebrity culture ensure no icon will enjoy a journey as dramatic and intoxicating as Jordan's. There is no template to be like James or Stephen Curry, either.
Who's the new face of the NBA? The question is in conflict with where the league is headed. It's a facile concern as the Finals begin with the Oklahoma City Thunder and the Indiana Pacers — both among the league's 10 smallest markets — providing the most compelling evidence to date that the sport functions like never before. If parity is the expectation, if the size or prestige of a city matters less than ever, the assumption of individual dominance must be reconsidered as well.
After the Pacers defeated the New York Knicks in six games in the Eastern Conference finals, center Myles Turner celebrated the new day.
'It's a new blueprint for the league, man,' he said.
James, who plays for the high-profile Los Angeles Lakers, couldn't get out of the first round despite playing with 26-year-old savant Luka Doncic. Curry, who's trying to extend the Golden State Warriors' dynasty, couldn't get out of the second round after injuring his hamstring. Kevin Durant, the third signature star of this era, missed the playoffs with a Phoenix Suns roster that includes Devin Booker and Bradley Beal.
The younger megastars suffered, too. Nikola Jokic, the best player in the game and a 2023 champion with the Denver Nuggets, went home in the second round. Anthony Edwards, the legend-killing young marvel for the Minnesota Timberwolves, lost in the conference finals for the second straight season. Jayson Tatum, the franchise player on a star-studded Celtics roster with multi-championship potential, ruptured his Achilles' tendon trying to defend Boston's 2024 title.
That NBA face card keeps declining.
'The years of the super teams and stacking [talent] is not as effective as it once was,' Turner said. 'Since I've been in the league, this NBA is very trendy. It just shifts. But the new trend now is just what we're doing. OKC does the same thing. The young guys get out and run, defend and use the power of friendship.'
The power of influence used to control the league. Before the NBA introduced a parity-enforcing business model, it was easier for great players to get what they wanted. And because they usually wanted to play for the most glamorous franchises, it led to a decade — starting with James's infamous decision to join the Miami Heat in 2010 — in which the imbalance became exaggerated. The NBA had always been a league of dynasties because, in five-on-five basketball, one dominant player has an outsize impact on the game. Give a giant a gigantic ally, and it's game over.
In 2023, new rules were implemented to tax both the bank accounts and team-building tactics of franchises that hope to stack stars. It's almost impossible to build a complete team through free agency now. And even if you build a great squad through the draft, retention becomes a chore. One consequence, perhaps unintended, is that it will be difficult for one star to stand above the rest.
Face of the NBA is a cumbersome aspiration, especially when it means different things to different people. In general, the title comes with an expectation of a clean image, multiple championships, consistent MVP-caliber performances, a level of charisma and marketability that transcends basketball and the confidence to be a league spokesman. In an age of distraction, who can command that much attention? In a sport dictating balance, who will win enough to get the chance?
Thunder guard Shai Gilgeous-Alexander just won his first MVP award at 26, and if Oklahoma City finishes its historically dominant season with a championship, he will vault into that conversation. But similar to Tatum, SGA isn't a big personality. And similar to the Celtics, money and the league's two-apron tax system will pose as much of a threat to a potential Thunder dynasty as the other 29 teams.
Regardless of the Finals outcome, the NBA will crown its seventh different champion in seven seasons. If the Thunder wins, Gilgeous-Alexander will be the first MVP since Curry in 2015 to capture the regular season honor and hoist the Larry O'Brien Trophy in the same season. Ten years is a long drought for MVPs. In the NBA's first 69 seasons, 14 MVPs ended their remarkable runs with a parade. Because several of them did it multiple times, there have been 23 instances in which the MVP winner captured the most coveted prize.
In other words, one-third of the time the MVP went home satisfied through 2015. In the decade since, the award has culminated in postseason chatter about that superstar's shortcomings. Even though Jokic (a three-time MVP) and Giannis Antetokounmpo (twice the MVP) eventually won titles, they endured plenty of criticism about their worthiness because they didn't have great playoff results during their MVP seasons. Joel Embiid, the oft-injured 2023 MVP, still hears it. There are fewer guarantees in the NBA, but current superstars are judged by a standard that the league has all but destroyed.
That's the 'weird energy' that James referenced in his gripe. The NBA is different, lucrative, stable now. It doesn't want a face anymore. It wants more teams to have an opportunity.
The transition will be uncomfortable. The television ratings for the 2025 Finals seem certain to reflect that. There will be as much talk about a Greek Freak trade as dissection of the Thunder's defense. That's sad, but it will make clear how much work remains for the league and its television partners to sell this newfound parity.
If the dynasty era is over, so are the days of the savior. But until the kingdom completes its rebranding, some will always pine for a king.