A-dunk-alypse 2010: The Horror

Let me set the record straight: I can dunk.  I can dunk with one hand, but two hands is easier because my hands are disproportionately small for my size (6-foot-4).  My ability to dunk is a microcosm of the various aspects of my life working for and against me athletically:  I am 6-4.  But I'm white.  I have long arms.  But I have small hands.  It goes on.  The point is I have worked very hard to make my pros overcome my cons as far as dunking goes.  As a result of this, I am left with the ability to dunk consistently -- I just need a game or two to warm up.

This is relevant not just because I am extremely proud of my dunking ability but also because the Big Ten Network is coming to Michigan as part of their "Campus Connection" program on Wednesday and holding tryouts for a dunk contest and a 3-point contest at the IM Building.  I was telling my sister about this yesterday because I had no valentine to talk to (yeah, loneliness!), and I told her I would be doing the 3-point shooting contest.  My sister's natural reaction, because of my near-constant bragging to my family and friends about my dunking ability, was, why don't you enter the dunk contest?

Of course, this would be a disaster.  Dunk contests are for dunkers.  They're for guys who can do windmills, tomahawks, essentially anything that requires a vertical leap higher than the width of the average credit card.  I am not one of those guys.  Me entering a dunk contest would be like Dwight Howard entering a 3-point shooting contest.  I'm sure he's made a few, but he should stick to dunking.  Just like I should stick to 3-point shooting.

This brings me to Saturday's NBA Dunk Contest.  

The contest wasn't just bad.  It wasn't just unentertaining.  It wasn't just eyeball-gouging ugly.  It was so bad it made me want to beat up a small child.  It was so unentertaining I would have rather watched an obese man filming himself dropping a deuce.  The spectacle was so saddening that I cried for three and a half hours afterward.  

The players looked like they were there as punishment.  The only remotely creative dunk was DeMar DeRozan getting his teammate to toss the ball off the side of the backboard for him to slam it home.  And that may have taken more skill on his teammates' end than his own.  

Probably the greatest disappointment was State product Shannon Brown.  It was pretty obvious he could get up the highest out of everyone, and he's also about 6-4, which is a great height for the dunk contest (not too short, becoming a novelty along the lines of this year's winner, Nate Robinson, but not tall enough so that his dunks don't look as awesome as they could).  I mean, Shannon Brown once did this, this and this.  You're telling me he couldn't come up with anything better than throwing the ball off the backboard?  Just a waste.  

But it wasn't just Shannon.  Every contestant was guilty of saving his "best" dunks for the later rounds, mailing it in early.  DeRozan's first dunk was nothing special.  And why was Gerald Wallace involved?  The dude is, like, 30.  He should've been in it five years ago when he could've done some real damage.  

The best part was, after every dunk, the analysts trying to hide their immense disappointment, even as TNT was showing the dunk over and over from all different angles so we could see exactly how boring each dunk actually was.  Just a really unfortunate night.  

If I could dunk like Shannon, I wouldn't ever walk -- I'd just jump around everywhere like Tigger.  Instead of calling a cab if I've had too much to drink, I'd just get a running start and leap to my apartment -- and I wouldn't use the door, I'd just jump through my 3rd-story window.  

The thing is, a lot of these young guys want to appear nonchalant about the contest because they don't want to be branded as just dunkers.  Take a look at this article, which talks about dunking as if it's some kind of curse:

Dunking is always going to be a part of him and that's OK.

What?  It's more than ok, that's awesome!  I wish dunking was always going to be a part of me, but I've become resigned to the inevitable: by the time I'm 35 or maybe even 30, my dunks will be urban legends that even my kids won't believe.  

I say, embrace the dunk.  It's the single coolest part of basketball and almost definitely the most intimidating non-violent move in sports.  If you're great at it, show it off in the contest.  I'm talking to you, Shannon.  Do it.