Somewhere between the introduction of Chocolate Thunder as the assistant coach for the Rookie All-Star squad and MJ's blown breakaway dunk, I lost faith in All-Star Weekend. I had no problem with the quality of play in either Saturday's "Got Milk?" Rookie Challenge or Sunday's All-Star game, but a high level of play is expected when you put Sacramento's Hedo Turkoglu and Boston's Joe Johnson on the same Philadelphia basketball court. Of course, the time required to play the two games is a mere 88 minutes - the Rookie Challenge is split into two 20-minute halves - yet somehow the allied efforts of TNT, NBC, and the NBA squeezed over 11 hours of television broadcast out of the annual celebration of basketball's greatest stars. In addition to the two 5-on-5 contests, this year's festivities included a 3-point shoot-out, a 3-on-3 contest (the league's valiant attempt to help us all escape our persistent 2ball-themed nightmares), the Read-To-Achieve family spectacular, and at least a dozen special musical guests ranging from Boyz II Men to Elton John (Sir John worked both pre-game and halftime for the main event). And featuring its brand new X-factor, "The Wheel of Dunks," the 2002 NBA All-Star Slam Dunk Contest and Sirloin Cook-Off. I don't know how I could have forgotten the dunk contest.

"It's the 3rd time in my life wearing a tie."

After sleeping through Read-To-Achieve, I tuned into the "Got Milk?" Rookie Challenge. My first thought: how did the National Dairy Board have the money to sponsor such a prestigious event? I was soon distracted from this quandary when the young LA Clipper, Darius Miles, began dancing and Turkoglu, the Turkish Sacramento King, won an easy bet by fitting an entire roll of quarters into his nose. Miles used his dance routines throughout his sophomore squad's near win to celebrate impressive baskets as well to as remind fans and teammates alike that he is much, much more than just Kevin Garnett's corn-rowed stunt double. Turkaglu's parlor trick, on the other hand, was just plain weird. Unfortunately, not Miles, Hedo, or even New Jersey Net Kenyon Martin and his barrage of deep guttural dunk celebrations could completely draw my attention away from the horrendous decision of the TNT execs to deploy Cheryl Miller, ex-WNBA sensation and twin-brother of Reggie, courtside so that she could interview as many people as possible. After the third interview, it became obvious that she was working on commission.

"You've never had a fat woman ... don't even have the pictures to prove it."

The 989 Sports All-Star Hoop-It-Up competition, the NBA's answer to MTV's Rock-and-Jock B-Ball Jam, was so horrible that Justin Timberlake's brilliant scoring drive on ex-Rocket great Kenny Smith couldn't come close to redeeming it, even though Kenny Smith had remarked earlier that he would "kill [WNBA guard] Dawn [Stayley] or Justin" and that "you cannot put a 5-foot-5 woman" on him. While it remains unclear if Smith was suggesting that Britney Spears' boyfriend was in fact a 5-foot-5 woman, it became evident that the league put absolutely no thought into their latest attempt to pop-culturize the NBA and attract new fans. Each 4-person team combined the forces of a relatively unpopular and underplayed member of a current NBA team, a popular-yet-decrepit and/or severely overweight ex-NBA star, a human sacrifice in the form of a marquee member of the WNBA, and one of Hollywood's or Motown's finest. The rosters' celebrities included Timberlake - who teammate Moses Malone described as "the best" - Jaime Foxx - whose majestic 3-point airball in his team's first round loss was nothing compared to his role as "Bunz" in the highly underrated Booty Call - Brian McKnight - some guy from Los Angeles - and of course, everyone's favorite Canadian, Tom Cavanagh (TNT announcers couldn't pronounce Cavanagh's first or last name, so they resorted to just calling him "Ed"). The games were 8 minutes long, with breaks at the 5- and 1-minute marks so that Moses Malone could hook himself up to an oxygen tank and Cheryl Miller could interview Justin "what do you mean?? I've always spoken like Eminem!" Timberlake or Sarunas "what mean you 'this game not real??'" Marciulionis. Of course, 24 minutes of game time became about 90 minutes of airtime, and that's 90 minutes of seizure-inducing lighting effects, WNBA players trying desperately to prove that they too can make lay-ups, and a relentless, asinine commentary that barely succeeded in converting the visual experience into an aural one.

"He’s a…what they call them people… Canadians?"

For those of you who felt the need to get up and check on your laundry after the semi-finals of the Hoop-It-Up competition, you might have missed the 1 800 CALL ATT Shootout. Don't worry, you didn't miss much, though Dallas Maverick Steve Nash is now officially from Canada.

"That's why I said it was stupid to have the Wheel ..."

Jordan's leap from the free throw line. Dominique's windmill. Kobe's through-the-legs jam. Carter's through-the-legs-ripping-off-Kobe jam. These are but a few of the cherished memories fans have of the Slam Dunk Contest. However, the contest has rapidly declined since the days when the league's best competed and it seemed like every member of the NBA was cheering from the sidelines. Many attempts have been made to restore what was once the most anticipated event of All-Star Weekend, yet no previous effort has failed so boldly as the Wheel of Dunks. It's still not clear whose idea it was to force this year's contestants to imitate past legends, but it became an obvious failure when poor 6-foot-3 Houston Rocket Steve Francis had to replicate Terrence Stansbury's legendary 360-degree "Statue of Liberty" dunk. Francis, infamous for both his migraine headaches and his small hands, was unable to palm the ball and therefore could do little to successfully reanimate Stansbury's dunk. It wasn't fair. Even the recap on the NBA's own website, NBA.com, criticized the competition, stating that "between the new rules, overanalysis, interviews after every dunk and several misses, there was not much to ooh and aah about ... Maybe if Chocolate Thunder had participated.

"All you got is that cheap shirt? Come on Sprite ..."

Sunday's showdown was well played even if Kobe Bryant took too many shots and his teammate Shaq, sidelined with big-toeitis, was sporting a beret that would make Professor of English Michael Harper jealous. Minor issues aside, what happened on the court was satisfying. It would have been nice if someone other than T-Mac had shown up for the Eastern Conference - Allen Iverson was probably still bitter about losing his spot in the Hoop-It-Up to Eric Snow - but it is hard to complain about the game itself. The game's presentation, on the other hand, adhered to the same formula that has made the NBA on NBC the most difficult to watch sports programming on television (indoor track-and-field being a close second). Take the incessant drama of Marv Albert, Bill Walton's perpetually patronizing second-guesses, and combine them with the Wish-I-Was-a-CNN-Anchor deadpan of Jim "If it breathes, I'll interview it" Gray and you'll know what I'm talking about. If I have to hear Albert celebrate another lay-up or Walton telling us all what Dikembe "does anyone really know how old I am?" Mutombo "must be thinking" again, I will do what any self-respecting American would do: go to the fridge and grab a Miller. Not Cheryl though.

"They're booing you in Philly ... they booed Santa Claus in Philly."

Kobe may have been named the MVP of this year's NBA All-Star game, but there was only one man who came close to saving this weekend's celebration, yet he's nowhere near his ideal playing weight.

"I'm at about 350 lbs. right now."

There was only one man wasn't afraid to speak his mind on the league's pressing issues, and it wasn't Western Conference Head Coach Don Nelson (though his wife did describe the details of her recent mammogram to Jim Gray).

"That's something you don't see oftenŠ a brother named Elroy."

And who else, besides this savior of sensibility, offered expert insight on how to interpret scouting reports of drinking buddies and coaches alike?

"They tell you a girl has a great personality, she's ugly. They tell you a guy works hard, he can't play a lick."

He's big, he's mean, and he thinks that a woman who wants equal pay "better work like a man." Sir Charles Barkley is old news, but he may be the NBA's only chance to make All-Star Weekend more than a pair of fast-paced, high-scoring match-ups accompanied by inane broadcast banter, long and drawn-out skills contests, and contrived, low-scoring games that are only a sorry excuse to fit the talented ball-hogs of the WNBA into the festivities.

During the main event, Bill Walton suggested that the other Western Conference stars freeze out Kobe. How about we freeze Bill Walton out and strap Marv Albert to the Wheel of Dunks? That way we could make Barkley the lord of the microphone and put him alongside his boy Kenny and token white-, err, straight-man Ernie Johnson. Barkley has never pulled a punch in his life. While off-camera and off-microphone, (or so the TNT producers believed) he was watching the Los Angeles team's entry into Hoop-It-Up slowly bring itself back into the game. Fan favorite Derek Fisher pulled himself out after missing a few key shots, and Charles was not afraid to add his ten cents worth. "Shit," he remarked, picked up by a stray mic, "once [LA] got rid of that weak link Fisher, they went on a run."

The solution for the NBA is not a complicated one. To fix All-Star Weekend, they need only do a few things. First, ditch the WNBA. Cammy Granato was not invited to last weekend's NHL all-star celebration, and she doesn't even have her own league. The women of the WNBA have a weekend set aside in July to promote their stars; they have done nothing to earn an additional weekend, and their participation is not helping to boost their popularity among NBA fans. Second, ditch anyone affiliated with NBC. In the process, make sure that Charles is on air at least 65% of the time, while spending the rest of the time broadcasting court chatter. What is more interesting to the die-hard NBA fan than what Iverson calls Tim Duncan's mom? Lastly, open the dunk contest to twenty players instead of four, get rid of the Wheel, and replace it with a $1,000,000 prize for the NBA's premier dunker. Mark Cuban has plenty of money to go around ...