Dunk the Funk

Could the Olympics save basketball’s musical soul? BY BETHLEHEM SHOALS

In b p

B p _s 1992, America introduced basketball to the world. Granted, the sport had een a staple of Olympic competition since 1936, and overseas leagues provided aying gigs for has-beens like Kobe Bryant’s dad. But it wasn’t until those fateful arcelona games that the U.S. pro game—in all its high-flying, no-looking, ower-dunking fury—was visited upon the international community. That was the first year that NBA players were allowed to participate. And o it came to pass that Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley, Magic Johnson, and the rest of the “Dream Team” spread the gospel of the game at its most sexy.

Their performance was part circus, part clinic, all awesome, and a statement of purpose that was at once ruthless and incredibly good-natured. Basketball fever took hold of the planet, and now the sport is second only to soccer in worldwide popularity.

Unfortunately, the music got left behind.

When it comes to the intersection of sports and music, the NBA is on a level all its own. Major League Baseball has “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” Gary Glitter, the Village People, corny organists, and player entrance music cribbed from the WWE. When the Super Bowl fails to deliver on the field, the right halftime show—say, Prince in 2007—can rally viewers on the verge of passing out. But professional basketball is the only sport in which the game itself seems inextricably tied to music. Marvin Gaye’s tender deconstruction of the national anthem, which opened the 1983 NBA All-Star Game, belonged to its setting as much as Hendrix’s version at Woodstock. Nor was it by accident that, in the 1920s, the Harlem Rens played on the dance floor between sets by Duke Ellington. At the risk of setting off some stereotype alarms, there’s a rhythmic, creative freedom to the game. Individuality, spontaneity, and style are key elements of all but the most staid contests. To this day, academics and clever art directors can’t resist a good “basketball is jazz” metaphor.

Nelson George, author of Elevating the Game: Black Men & Basketball, is one of many to see an unbroken line from bebop horn players to the MCs of today, with basketball feeding off the same tradition. This argument certainly puts a novel twist on NBA players’ penchant for rap side projects. Especially when some, like

Allen Iverson’s relatively credible “ 40 Bars,” Chris Webber’s production on Nas’

“Blunt Ashes,” and a handful of cuts on the 1994 comp Basketball’s Best Kept Secret, point to an affinity beyond demographics. On the other side of the equation, rappers regularly equate their skills with NBA luminaries. Jay-Z has compared himself with everyone from Jordan to journeyman point guard Nick Van Exel, bragging, “Check out my swag / I walk like a ballplayer.” Extending his transition from musician to mogul, he’s now part owner of the New Jersey Nets.

More viscerally, the game just demands a soundtrack. That’s why You Tube mix tapes—highlights set to music—have become an indelible fact of online NBA fandom. Footage of a young Dr. J, hanging in the air before swooping down for a dunk, makes more sense with James Brown’s “The Big Payback” in the background. The same goes for Iverson’s offbeat crossover and East Coast hip-hop, hence the Reebok commercial with him and Jadakiss playing off each other side by side.

Turn on the telecast of any NBA game. Club bangers blare out of the PA when the home team is on offense, and if you pay close attention, you’ll always see one or two guys more locked in when the beat drops. Some of it has to do with plain getting amped—pretty much every athlete listens to his iPod in the locker room. But Caron Butler, Ron Artest, and Josh Howard, among others, just seem to move more naturally to music, as if it buoys or enhances what they already bring to the court.

So why does our Olympic team compete in silence? Maybe there’s a subtle element of racism, a desire on the part of powerful institutions to pretend that USA Basketball can still be blandly ecumenical. But I prefer to think of it as a simple missed opportunity. Basketball’s high-profile status at the Olympics has everything do with that original seed sown by the NBA in 1992. With FIBA (international basketball’s governing body) already making major rule changes for 2010, all of which push the game closer toward the NBA model, it’s time to resurrect the great absent holy spirit of this sport.

And this doesn’t only have to be about the USA conquering all. Blasting Rick Ross could be a form of outreach, making the aesthetic and cultural essence of the game that much more evident. Yet we might not be the only ones ready to promote this perspective. Sitting in as a guest analyst on TNT’s Inside the NBA in 2006, Kobe Bryant extolled the tricky rhythms of South Americans like Brazil’s Leandro Barbosa (of the

Phoenix Suns) and Argentina’s Manu Ginobili (of the San Antonio Spurs). Let them have their baile funk and cumbia villera, respectively. Shouldn’t we encourage the German national team to indulge Dirk Nowitzki’s love of David Hasselhoff?

All we ask is that the game no longer be forced to live in international denial. Let LeBron James’ headband shower the world with ringtones, so that we may all be saved.

Bethlehem Shoals is the coauthor of FreeDarko Presents… The Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac: Styles, Stats, and Stars of Today’s Game (Bloomsbury USA).