On the Happiness of Harden – NBA superstars and the human condition

[I wrote this on 20 Jan 2021. It was published on sgmavs.wordpress.com ]

Few tweets in recent days have spawned more interesting discussion in the NBA than this one from Dwyane Wade:

That’s one happy looking NBA superstar

Despite receiving a salary of over $41 million, NBA superstar James Harden forced his way out of his team in a way many found distasteful – not staying in shape, refusing to show up for training camp, breaking COVID-19 protocols, and lamenting that his team was “not good enough” in public. Harden’s behavior alone is deeply interesting in what it reveals about the state of NBA and in the mind of an NBA superstar. But what I found way more interesting was DWade’s take and the responses it gathered, and what that revealed about NBA fans, and the glimpse it provides into the current condition of the human race.

The narratives we commit and those we omit

I always felt that the best introduction to postmodern epistemology was how the MVP award of the NBA gets decided. To be declared the Most Valuable Player in the NBA is a concrete and factual claim with a truth-value. You either are or are not the MVP. Yet what makes you an MVP is often up to which narrative wins out in a competition amongst other narratives. This is not new, and is not particularly controversial (perhaps not since Karl Malone won the MVP in 1997 over Jordan). But narratives are stories, and all stories need storytellers.

Enter Dwyane Wade. He’s heard the prevailing narrative on Harden, and he says “hey stop listening to that story, let me tell you a new story instead”. And some, if not many, fall in love instantly with Wade’s story. [Side note: it is unclear to me if Harden’s race as a black person is the central thrust of Wade’s narrative. For now, I assume it is not. Harden’s own reply does bring race into the discussion.] A man unhappy with the present circumstances of his life. Perhaps even oppressed. But despite the factors acting against him, he took agency and created the outcome he wanted for himself, and thus obtained happiness (for which there is “no price tag”). This is a beautiful narrative, and essentially it’s the same narrative behind “the American Dream”. Many of us deeply resonate with this narrative and aspire for this narrative to be true in our lives.

But wait, are we allowed to change narratives so easily? Should we be allowed to change narratives so easily? For the many people who do not resonate with this Disney-esque narrative (myself included) how do we respond to someone who says “let’s talk about this narrative”; do we simply say “no let’s not” or perhaps less kindly “no you shut up”? If so, then what we have is a microcosm of the polarized society which so describes America (and increasingly, the rest of the world), where people on either extremes dig in their heels, try to silence each other and those in the middle are often left with epistemic chaos and confusion. This is no longer just about politics, but clashing over our polarized worldviews has long bled into everyday life decisions (e.g. taking the COVID vaccine) and sports fandom is no exception.

The Tyranny of Meritocracy

Who determines which narrative gets heard and which doesn’t? One common (and very persuasive) answer is – those who hold power get to choose, and the struggle for truth becomes the struggle for power. An interesting corollary argument about the struggle for power has also emerged in the wake of Wade’s tweet.

James Harden gets away with being an asshole because he’s good at basketball.

A common phrase heard in NBA circles nowadays is this is the “age of player empowerment”. But on closer examination, that’s not really true. It’s actually the age of superstar player empowerment, and non superstar players like Caris LaVert and Jarrett Allen had no power whatsoever about what team they play for in light of Harden’s powerplay. Even former stars like John Wall and DeMarcus Cousins had no power about having to suffer playing beside a disinterested Harden, when it was public knowledge that he did not want to be their teammate. Appeasing your superstar player (see Rockets treatment of Harden prior to this season), trying to keep him content (see Bucks trade for Jrue Holiday), and dealing with the fallout caused by that (see Clippers locker room turmoil) form the bulk of today’s NBA storylines (including the esoteric case of Kyrie Irving). The non-superstar players just get dragged along.

If anything, the gap between the elites and non-elite NBA players are wider than ever before (salaries also reflect this trend), and a new kind of aristocracy is formed where superstar NBA players don’t just get paid the most money, but they also wield the most power. In some cases, they have more power than their coaches, GMs and even owners in making decisions for the franchise. Decisions where countless other plebeian lives will be affected, but the superstar rarely feels obligated to be responsible for. It is therefore most apt that Lebron James is also called “the King”. All too often, we forget the true proletariat of the NBA are the fans (which is why load management is an interesting ethical issue). If fans decided one day not to watch basketball, not to spend money to buy merchandise, not to buy tickets to see their teams play live, there will be no NBA, and nobody, not even the superstars, gets paid. But fans are also a fickle lot with short-term memory loss. Outside of the Rockets fandom, Harden would soon be celebrated again for his basketball achievements in a Nets jersey, and the world keeps turning.

James Harden doesn’t deserve to be happy

Being confronted with our own plebeianism can make us existentially angsty – a too in-your-face reminder that the American dream is a farce for the non-elite, that we are far more helpless to obtain our own happiness than we had previously believed. And if so, why should Harden be allowed to obtain his own happiness (and leaving thousands of other human beings unhappy in the wake of his machinations) when I am not allowed to do the same? Furthermore, as suggested by Wade, why am I supposed to celebrate his happiness? For many, the only recourse left is to rage, and to declare Harden unworthy of deserving happiness in the first place. In so doing we dehumanize the NBA superstar into a morally inferior being – someone whom we subconsciously compare to ourselves and feel good about the fact that we are morally superior beings who won’t stoop to his level. The NBA superstar ceases to be our ubermensch and instead becomes our supervillain, our real-life Thanos. Lebron has been there. So has Durant. Such is, and will always be, the price of celebrity in the social-media age.

But reality is more complicated than that isn’t it? Our NBA superstars aren’t flawless human beings. They have never been. A few decades ago, someone famously said that NBA stars are not role models. And in this social media age, they are human beings that have been bombarded with criticisms and unfair comparisons since their adolescent years. As Chris Vernon had suggested on his most recent podcast on ‘The Mismatch’, they might have developed deep insecurities about their own personal worth, feeling the unrelenting need overachieve and to prove their doubters wrong. Perhaps they imagine that obtaining a championship ring would result in ultimate fulfilment and validation. But does it though? Is there truly no price-tag to Harden’s happiness? I think there is. Just like every time we hurt the people around us because of our own selfishness, there will always be a price to pay, but we won’t always be aware of who pays for it, how much it costs, and how it eventually comes back to bite us.

After losing the 2011 finals (a highly interesting narrative in and of itself), the greatest sports superstar of our generation gave one of the most fascinating sports quotes of all time, and is an interesting window into the dynamic between the superstar and the fans. Whether this quote evokes disgust in you or not, at least one thing rings true – if we as fans we look to the success (or failures) of our superstars to grant us meaning and satisfaction, we will find it sorely lacking. When we look at Harden being happy, whether in envy or in disgust, we are staring into the abyss of our own souls and admitting how far short we have come in our own search for happiness and meaning, whether we realize it or not. Harden is neither our hero nor our villain. He is our mirror, and Wade is merely lifting it up for our own eyes to see.