Redeem team. Re-Dream team. Dream team ...
Everyone wants to make the reinvigorated American team some kind of shadow of 1992. As in, this team is good enough that if you squint a little, it might seem just like we are back in Barcelona 16 years ago, and no one will ever question American basketball dominance again.
That is an entirely faulty way of thinking, to me.
That experience of 1992 was magical and fun, which is why it should be kept airtight in a ziploc bag in the coldest part of the freezer of your memory.
Just, please, don't get it out and start serving it to the 2008 team.
It's a story from a time that will never exist again, and players, fans, and coaches do themselves a disservice by trotting it out again and again.
Way back then, as long as they won -- which they could do easily -- it hardly mattered what American players did on the court. It is to their credit that they were dedicated professionals, who performed at an extraordinary level, far beyond what was demanded by their inferior competition.
Their fates were sealed. With winning no real concern, those players were there in large part to be like All-Stars who show up at charity fundraisers -- essentially to use their fame to make the event more exciting. Whether or not Michael Jordan played well each and every quarter, he could certainly glad-hand, sign things, sell Nikes to new markets, and let others bask in the glow of his reputation.
Those were the iconic Elvis days of American basketball, when American All-Stars were so All-Starry that no one in the world could touch them, even on an off-night.
They traded in breathless admiration, autograph hounding, and the bright glare of TV spotlights. And in doing so, they were pretty classy and very dominant, and they made us all feel warm and fuzzy about basketball and the U.S.A.
When people talk about the legend of 1992, however, I never hear them talking about basketball. No one talks about whether they trapped the pick and roll, nailed mid-range jumpers, or bumped the cutters. No one even remembers who they played against -- Uwe Blab and the Germans, Drazen Petrovic and the Croatians, and Arvydas Sabonis and the Lithuanians and the like.
Instead they talk about going all tournament without calling a timeout. They talk about opponents posing for pictures with American stars. They talk about each and every thing that came out of Charles Barkley's remarkable mouth.
These are great achievements in celebrity, more than great achievements in basketball.
That's because what they did on the court that summer is not nearly as important as the fact that the roster was (almost) all superstars. (We haven't forgotten you, Christian Laettner.)
The majesty of Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan and the like is that they are who they are. And "who they are" is the sum of a lifetime of hard work, extraordinary skill, and heavy media exposure.
The story of 1992 was that those players were on the court together at all.
The story of 2008, however, is that while the U.S. may have the fanciest collection of basketball players, the disparity is not, nor will it ever be again, so great that our roster in and of itself will take gold. This is a dogfight.
From now on -- actually ever since coming in sixth at the World Championships in 2002 -- Team USA is in an entirely different space. Now nothing matters at all except actually outplaying opponents to win, because America's opponents have rosters of comprable quality.
Now, when you talk about who will win any given national team game, you have to look at the rosters of both teams.
Back then, the national team got to exist in the clean air above opponents. Now, in what should make for a much more interesting story if it's told right, our heroes are forced to get their hands dirty, and to use them to claw their way back to the highest pedestal.
The players on the Dream Team achieved their immortality by being famous and agreeing to be on the team -- both things they did before even arriving at the Olympic site. This year's team, and probably every Team USA for the foreseeable future, needs to worry about nothing but the basketball they play after they arrive. Famous though they may be, players today do not get to have international basketball immortality just for showing up.
A few more sixth place finishes and people will stop enthusiastically videotaping Kobe Bryant eating french fries.
So, yes, please, by all means celebrate the Dream Team -- the stars of our memories. But please don't confuse them with the current U.S. team, a group of young men hoping to win an actual basketball competition.
(Photo by Andrew D. Bernstein/ NBAE/ Getty Images)
