Several years ago, when the NBA moved the three-point line in from its original 23'9" arc to a mere 22', they made the shot too easy. It used to be that each team had maybe two or three guys who could shoot the three-pointer. The Celtics had Larry Bird, Chris Ford, and occasionally, one or two others who'd shoot them. The Lakers had Michael Cooper, the Sixers had Andrew Toney, and so on. The three wasn't part of the regular offense -- it was an extra, which someone would take when the team was trying to make up a lot of points at the end of a game, or when one player would get the hot hand. You could always tell when Ford was going to set up for one of his trademark set shots from the corner, because he'd typically take it when the Celtics were on a scoring run -- capping a 10-0 spurt with a three would drive a stake through the other team's heart.
It's not that way anymore. At 22', any stiff can make a three -- it's the first option for a lot of teams. Big guys shoot the three. Middle-sized guys shoot the three. Small guys shoot the three. Nursing-home grannies, out for afternoon recreation, shoot the three. What kind of nonsense is that?
I've heard the argument that in today's watered-down NBA, scoring is in such short supply that the league needs every excuse it can dream up to increase point totals. I say the easy three is exactly the wrong solution, and that, in fact, it reduces the average score of an NBA game, rather than increasing it, because it encourages sloppy play and discourages players from taking high-percentage, low-excitement two-point shots.
It's even worse in the college game, where the three-point line is way in at the top of the key -- in NCAA hoops, there are nationally-ranked teams whose entire offensive scheme is based on the three-pointer.
It's time to bring the three-point line back to its original distance -- and that should go for NCAA as well as NBA play. College players play on the same size court as the pros, and the hoop is the same size and height -- so why should they have an easier three? It makes no sense.
The other problem with roundball these days is the dunk. Now, I know some of you are saying that I used to be a big fan of slamming and jamming; and it cannot be denied that in my younger days, I kept a scrapbook of particularly artistic throw-downs by guys like Julius Erving, David Thompson, Kermit Washington, Sidney Moncrief, and other aerial Nijinskys. But in recent years, dunking has become as commonplace and tawdry as a gold-plated cell phone on an overpriced Lexus sport-ute. It's no longer an unusual flourish -- it's an overworked cliche and an unsportsmanlike gloat.
I say enough. The NCAA had the right idea, in the '70s, with its Kareem Abdul-Jabbar-inspired ban on dunking. Failing in that, a friend of mine once suggested making a dunk worth only one point. That might throw cold water on today's excesses of slaaaaaaaaaamming and jamming. Sure, you could still throw one down, but at the cost of a hit on the stat sheet -- and perhaps an incentive bonus foregone. That might make some of today's eight-figure-salaried players think twice before dunking....
Copyright © 1998 John J. Kafalas