The NBA’s 65-game rule is one of those policies that, on paper, seems like a sensible solution to a perceived problem. But in practice? It’s a masterclass in unintended consequences. Personally, I think this rule is a perfect example of how trying to fix one issue can create a whole new set of headaches. Let’s break it down.
The Rule’s Intent vs. Its Reality
The 65-game rule, part of the 2023 collective bargaining agreement, was ostensibly designed to ensure that players earning end-of-season awards had put in the work. Fair enough, right? But what makes this particularly fascinating is how quickly it’s become a source of frustration for players, fans, and even the media. The rule requires players to appear in at least 65 games (with some exceptions for injuries) to be eligible for awards like MVP or All-NBA. Sounds straightforward, but here’s the catch: it’s forcing players to risk their health to play in meaningless games just to hit an arbitrary number.
Take Cade Cunningham, for instance. After suffering a collapsed lung in his 61st game, he’s now under pressure to play in Detroit’s final five games to qualify for All-NBA honors. In my opinion, this is absurd. We’re essentially incentivizing players to jeopardize their long-term health for short-term recognition. What this really suggests is that the rule isn’t about rewarding effort—it’s about controlling player behavior in a way that benefits the league’s bottom line.
The TV Deal: The Elephant in the Room
One thing that immediately stands out is the timing of this rule. It came hot on the heels of the NBA’s massive TV deal, which hinged on the league’s ability to guarantee star power in nationally televised games. What many people don’t realize is that the 65-game rule wasn’t primarily about awards or player effort—it was about selling certainty to broadcasters. The league needed to assure networks that their investments wouldn’t be undermined by star players sitting out games.
From my perspective, this is where the rule goes off the rails. It conflates the regular season with the playoffs, treating them as equally important. But if you take a step back and think about it, the playoffs are the NBA’s crown jewel. They’re where legends are made, where storylines culminate, and where the league generates the most revenue. Prioritizing regular-season appearances over playoff readiness is like putting the cart before the horse.
The Misunderstanding of Load Management
A detail that I find especially interesting is how the rule misinterprets the concept of load management. Star players don’t sit out games because they’re lazy or disinterested—they do it to preserve their bodies for when it matters most. The 65-game rule, however, treats load management as a problem to be solved rather than a symptom of a larger issue: an 82-game season that’s too grueling for even the healthiest athletes.
This raises a deeper question: Why are we punishing players for trying to stay healthy? If the goal is to have the best possible product on the court, shouldn’t we be encouraging players to prioritize their well-being? Instead, we’re creating a system where players like Tyrese Haliburton feel compelled to rush back from injuries, potentially exacerbating them in the process.
The Broader Implications
What this rule really highlights is the power dynamics at play in the NBA. The owners pushed for this rule during CBA negotiations, and while the players ultimately agreed to it, it’s clear whose interests are being prioritized. The fact that the NBPA has called for its abolition speaks volumes. But Adam Silver’s defense of the rule—claiming it’s working as intended—feels tone-deaf. It’s as if the league is more concerned with optics than with the well-being of its stars.
If you think about it, this rule also undermines the very awards it’s supposed to legitimize. If Chet Holmgren wins Defensive Player of the Year despite not meeting the 65-game threshold, will anyone take that award seriously? Probably not. And when you consider that these awards are tied to supermax contracts, the stakes become even higher. We’re not just talking about pride here—we’re talking about millions of dollars.
Where Do We Go From Here?
In my opinion, the 65-game rule is a classic case of solving the wrong problem. It’s a bandaid solution that doesn’t address the root issue: an overlong regular season that burns out players. If the NBA wants to ensure its stars are available for primetime games, maybe it’s time to rethink the schedule itself. Shortening the season or introducing more flexible rest policies could achieve the same goals without forcing players into harmful tradeoffs.
What makes this particularly frustrating is that the rule was never about the players—it was about the money. The TV deal drove this policy, and the players are paying the price. But here’s the irony: by prioritizing short-term financial gains, the league risks long-term damage to its most valuable asset—its stars. If players start getting injured because of this rule, who wins?
Final Thoughts
The 65-game rule is a prime example of how good intentions can lead to bad outcomes. It’s a policy that tries to fix a symptom while ignoring the disease. Personally, I think it’s time for the NBA to take a step back and reevaluate its priorities. Are we here to watch the best basketball possible, or are we here to hit arbitrary benchmarks? If the league wants to maintain its reputation as the premier basketball organization, it needs to start putting its players—and their health—first. Otherwise, we’re just setting ourselves up for a future where the awards mean less, the playoffs suffer, and the fans lose out. And that’s a game no one wins.
