Top 100 problems: Ranking Omer Asik versus Monta Ellis is no easy task. (Gary Dineen/Getty Images)
The impulse of comparison is encouraged by the very nature of sports. One team bests its opponent. One player dominates a matchup. One teammate overtakes another on the depth chart. Games and leagues are built on that engine of relativity, and the NBA is no exception.
It's in that spirit that The Point Forward offered our list of the top 100 players in the NBA -- an endeavor to identify and order the best players in basketball this coming season. The scope of our ranking is relatively simple (no weight is given to long-term development, and as little emphasis as possible was placed on team context), but there is nonetheless a daunting complication inherent to the exercise itself. Put simply: While we made a considered effort to somehow compare an incredible assortment of NBA talent, there's little grounds to suggest that players can be assigned any kind of absolute basketball value.
That, in a word, is a doozy.
On the one hand, the decision to divorce players from their real-life team settings is essential in a project of this nature. No player ought be penalized for landing on the wrong team, just as no lesser contributor should be promoted merely for filling an ideal role. Players need to be evaluated individually to whatever extent such a thing is possible, and to that end the disregard of team factors helps us inch closer to some measure of objective quality.
Yet at the same time, basketball players are almost unavoidably subject to context. There are certain luminaries for which being a fit is a non-issue -- an elite class of flexible superstars that would work in most every system and would mesh with most any roster. They are the extreme minority and run maybe three deep. The overwhelming majority, meanwhile, need specific factors in place in order to maximize their on-court value: a particular number of touches, a certain magnitude of a role, a customized set of responsibilities. Some players are inevitably more pliable than others when it comes to compromising on those needs, but that in itself creates problems for defining player value across the board. How does one accurately measure player worth when every individual's value is so deeply conditional?
Making that determination inevitably becomes a matter of taste, as we don't otherwise have the means to make sense of such disparate items. It's hard enough comparing vastly different players at entirely different positions -- say, Omer Asik and Monta Ellis -- but another matter entirely given that both players have unique prerequisites to their effectiveness. If Asik is the defensive balance to offense-first lineups as he was in Houston last season, his strengths can be accentuated while his weaknesses are disguised. If not, he's a lesser player, relatively, on the grounds that his lack of offensive skill can so severely cramp his team's scoring operations.
An entirely different set of concerns are in play with Ellis, who very much needs helpful defenders, spot shooters, and supporting playmakers in order to get the most out of his own game. When all of that is in place, Ellis can be a legitimate weapon. Without it, he can grind even a quality team into mediocrity with his inefficiency and unchecked domination of the ball.
Such factors define the range between a player's ceiling and floor, though without necessarily addressing the probability that either is actually met. How does one place Tyson Chandler without knowing if he'll have a solid point guard to make use of his game-changing offensive potential? Or rank Rajon Rondo without understanding how likely he is to have the supporting scorers he so desperately needs? And in contrast, where does this line of thinking leave Kawhi Leonard -- an outstanding role player who could fit most any team, albeit without contributing at so lofty a level?