We have reached the end of the NBA regular season. With all 82 games in the books and the glorious playoffs in front of us, it is now time to argue about individual recognition.
Awards season in the NBA is much like what we see in Hollywood – months of campaigning, jockeying, prognosticating, and agenda-setting for the league’s top honors. Much like the Oscars, NBA awards also come with job security and increased ceilings on salary negotiations. It might seem silly, but this stuff matters a great deal in a big-picture, team-building sense.
There are interesting arguments to be made across the awards spectrum. Defensive Player of the Year is up for grabs, with Victor Wembanyama’s unfortunate health scare. The handful of names we can agree upon for the All-Rookie Teams could be placed in a snow globe and vigorously shaken, and every combination would be as legitimate as any other. The MVP race is a two-man sprint to a photo finish.
But in my mind, the most interesting argument – the one that really tells me something about how you watch basketball and what matters most to you – lies in the final spot for All-NBA First Team. This is the best basketball conversation we can have, because each argument is equally persuasive, depending on how well you defend your position.
The first four spots are etched in stone: Nikola Jokic, Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Giannis Antetokounmpo, Jayson Tatum. Any ballot that does not include those four names belongs in the trash. To determine the fifth and final spot, you will see several writers and serious basketball thinkers trot out reams of advanced statistics, team success metrics, plus/minus numbers (real and imagined), and every conceivable debate tactic. Other pundits will coast on vibes and short, declarative exclamations.
At Elevator Doors HQ, the fifth and final spot will be determined philosophically. When judging basketball excellence, what is more important? Space, showmanship, or sacrifice?
Space: An NBA court is 4,700 square feet. Basketball is about how effectively a team can manipulate that square footage and optimize that space to send a ball that is about 450 cubic inches (give or take) through a rim 18 inches in diameter that sits 10 feet above the court. Simple, right?
Through his staggering Hall-of-Fame career, Steph Curry warped the geometry of basketball in ways never previously imagined. At age 37, Curry is still the most spatially significant basketball player on the planet.
It’s not just the shooting. It’s mostly the shooting – 40% on 11.2 attempts per game – but it’s the running that sets him apart. Curry giving up the basketball and then taking off on a series of curls, cuts, brush screens, and sprints is still a scenario that strikes fear into every defense. There is no way to game plan for it, because Curry’s movement remains unpredictable nearly 20 years into his career. His style of play is unique to him, and it makes his teams better just because the four players in his vicinity have access to space in that 4,700 square feet they’d never otherwise access.
Jimmy Butler’s arrival at the trade deadline has been especially instructive in this regard. After the scorched-earth campaign to extricate himself from the Miami Heat, Butler’s short stint in Golden State has turned him into an evangelist of the Church of Curry.
Curry has put together a truly remarkable stretch of basketball the last couple months and, alongside Butler and the always-campaigning-for-DPOY Draymond Green, has turned the Warriors from inevitable lottery participants into a team nobody wants to play in the postseason.
(Critic’s response: If Curry was so valuable, why did it take a mid-season Hail Mary mega-trade for Jimmy Butler to right the ship in Golden State? Can he really make All-NBA First Team when his team hides him on defense?)
Showmanship: Anthony Edwards is a performer.
When Edwards has it going, it is not hyperbole to say this is the closest thing we have seen to Kobe Bryant since, well, prime Kobe Bryant. There are moments when it seems like multiple MVPs and multiple championships are not only possible. They seem inevitable.
Scouts flagged Edwards’ jump shooting as a potential weakness in the lead-up to the 2020 NBA Draft, but it wasn’t enough to dent his case as the No. 1 overall pick. Athletically, Edwards simply has few peers in this or any other sport. However, that alleged weakness has morphed into perhaps the strongest part of Edwards’ offensive arsenal. He led all players with 320 made 3-pointers – yes, even more than Curry. He pushed his attempts per game past 10 and posted the best percentage (39.5%) of his career. He is just as lethal as a prime James Harden or a healthy Luka Doncic on the step-back 3-pointer – the most difficult shot in basketball – and his finishing ability at the rim remains second to none.
He also gets to the line more than six times per game. He plays more than 36 minutes per game and essentially never takes a night off. He’s durable, relentless, aggressive. He is also the best individual perimeter defender out of the league’s elite scorers. When it comes to pure basketball talent, Edwards belongs on All-NBA First Team.
(Critic’s response: Yes, but does he make others better? His assist/turnover ratio of 4.5/3.2 is not ideal for a lead offensive creator, and he can get a bit of tunnel vision in tight moments. Sometimes his incredible confidence can be weaponized against him. Has he gotten to that final level of greatness – affecting all facets of the game when the shot isn’t falling?)
Sacrifice: He is only 16th in the NBA in scoring. He isn’t the most efficient player in this conversation. But Donovan Mitchell leads all candidates for this spot in the most important metric of all – wins. Fifteen more than Edwards. Sixteen more than Curry.
Basketball conversation, often to its detriment, defaults to individual excellence over team success. However, in order for Mitchell’s team to achieve its full potential, he had to take a little cut from his personal production to help elevate Evan Mobley, Jarrett Allen, and especially Darius Garland.
Kenny Atkinson had this team perfectly calibrated for much of the regular season, and Mitchell is a huge reason why. Stars in his position don’t often relinquish individual accolades for big-picture improvement. Mitchell has only made one All-NBA team in his career (second team in 2023) and spent much of his time in Utah overlooked, unless he was cooking in the playoffs.
But Mitchell’s decision to buy into the Cavs’ over-arching goals is the biggest reason why they’re legitimate title contenders. Mitchell averages 24 points per game in just 31.4 minutes per night. Bump his minutes up to 36 (Edwards’ number) and his shots per game up to the low 20s, and we have a comparable stat line with other elite talents.
Mitchell’s campaign shows that sharing the spotlight during 82 games can actually lead to the biggest individual success of one’s career – a coveted appearance on the All-NBA First Team.
(Critic’s response: Should Mitchell be rewarded ahead of Edwards and Curry because he has superior teammates? The Cavs have been one of the best teams in the league all season. Would any general manager take Mitchell ahead of Edwards or Curry in a hypothetical one-game, winner-takes-all scenario?)
Verdict: Curry is the most important player – historically, obviously, but also in how his team plays, stylistically. No player aside from Jokic is more responsible for his team’s approach to basketball. Curry is the fulcrum upon which the Warriors’ levers can function.
Edwards is the most spectacular individual talent and the best two-way player. Edwards plays with so much swagger and so much edge that it is hard not to pick him. If a team is starting from scratch, Edwards (still only 23!) is the obvious pick among these three.
Mitchell is the most impactful success story. Basketball is about the whole exceeding the sum of the parts. Mitchell is the most responsible for this year’s Cavs exceeding expectations, both with his brilliant individual play, and with his willingness to embrace an altered role in service of a greater good.
My heart says Curry. My head says Edwards. But I’m a dad. When I try to explain basketball to my 9-year-old son, Andrew – how it works, what it means – I talk mostly about how it’s a team game. Even though we talk until we’re blue in the face about individual excellence, basketball can only properly function if you work well with others, cheer for them, play for them, and in return, they cheer for you, play for you. My pick – our pick – is Mitchell.
