Nkem Ojougboh was only doing what he was supposed to do. After soaring through the air to retrieve a lob from junior guard Matt Janning, the 6’9″ junior threw the ball through the hoop to complete an alley-oop. He had given his team a 53-26 lead over the Hofstra Pride with 13:18 remaining in the second half. This was no time to worry about defense.
So Ojougboh didn’t. He paused beneath the rocking rim, posed for a photograph that could have run with the caption, “I just dominated gravity. Who wants to be next?” There was a problem, though: Nobody was there to take his picture.
Ojougboh is the starting center on the men’s basketball squad, a member of the Colonial Athletic Association (CAA), where on an average day a team gets less publicity than a presidential candidate from the Green Rainbow Party. On most nights, if at least two people are courtside at a CAA with a camera, it is safe to assume that at least one of them is not authorized to be there.
So why did Ojougboh look ready for his close-up? Was he really wondering, “Who here thinks they can do what I just did?” or “Who thinks they can stop me from doing that again?” Was he thinking, “Take that, Sir Isaac Newton?”
Or, was he simply stunned by the sudden eruption of noise, dispelling the theory that the stands at Matthews Arena are actually filled with cardboard cutouts, incapable of cheering during basketball games?
Like everything else worth knowing, the answer can probably be found on television. Pick a channel: ESPN, TNT or even a broadcast station like ABC. (If all else fails, there’s always NBA TV (Where Amazing Happens)). If there are no NBA games or highlight shows to be seen, then it shouldn’t be hard to find a game from college, high school or even the playgrounds. The game of basketball is being exposed like never before.
While hardcore hoops fans rejoice, marketers are left asking themselves this question: In a market that has been saturated with our product, how do we draw the interest of viewers in a society where the average attention span is probably not much longer than the average pass from Matt Cassel? The solution, quite literally, is a slam-dunk.
Dunking a basketball is an heroic feat. Those who can display such acrobatic grace and control that it seems as if they have come as close as possible to achieving the human dream of flight, and that they may actually be supermen or women (if you don’t believe me, go to YouTube and search “Dwight Howard Slam Dunk Contest”). This, combined with the physical strength often exhibited through the act, serves as a reminder of the tremendous potential of the human body, to merge various elements of athleticism into a wonderfully powerful maneuver. It is at once beautiful and basic, often eliciting a primal response on the part of the actor and the spectators.
Because the slam dunk delivers instant audience gratification, those who can do it spectacularly are showered with attention and rewarded with endorsement deals. Players who excel in other areas of the game may earn championships, but their silhouettes will not be emblazoned on the tongues of sneakers. It’s likely that 7-year-olds won’t practice setting picks or blocking out in their driveways; they will dream of soaring through the air, tongue waggling, as flash bulbs pop in the background. They will grow up ignoring the fundamentals, trying to beat defenders one-on-one and make off-balance lay-ups, instead of focusing on improving their mid-range jump shots. They will do anything to imitate their high-flying role models, whether or not it is the best thing for their team.
And so we arrive at the scene of the crime. Ojougboh The Conqueror stands beneath the basket as the fans show signs of life for the first time in years. He could be relishing their response, celebrating the moment or auditioning for the professional ranks, where the name on the back of the jersey means more than the name on the front. Or maybe he was just happy to help his team to another CAA victory.
– Jared Sugerman can be reached
