A desperate ABA pulled out all the stops to make its 1976 All-Star Game--featuring the first-ever Slam Dunk Contest--an artistic triumph

IF DESPERATION DRIVES GENIUS, we shouldn't be surprised at the 1976 ABA All-Star Game. The ABA, in its final season of 1975-76, may have been marked by colorful, high-flying action on the court, but in the ownership suites, the news was dire. Three of the league's 10 teams had folded by December, leaving a lopsided seven-team circuit to wheeze through the campaign. Whatever impact the ABA was having on pro basketball could easily have been diminished by a continuous parade of fading teams, flaky talent, and, most importantly, a lack of national media attention. All of this begged the question: If a red-white-and-blue ball bounced in an empty arena, did it make a sound?

But once upon a time, behind the heavy oak doors at NBA HQ, the impact of the ABA was well-documented. Seattle SuperSonics owner Sam Schulman once threatened to apply for membership to the ABA if the league didn't pursue merger talks. The NBA owners themselves voted to pursue a merger in June 1970. In head-to-head exhibition play between the two leagues from 1971 to '76, ABA teams won 79 games to the NBA's 76.

A merger, long visualized by both the NBA and ABA, was put on hold by the Oscar Robertson Suit (the informal name of the wide-ranging suit NBA players had fled against the league). But by the time the suit was called off at the 1976 NBA All-Star Game, the ABA--no matter how strong its talent--was weakened beyond repair.

History should view the 1976 ABA All-Star Game, and particularly the first-ever Slam Dunk Contest, as just one prime exhibit among the bags of evidence that exist proving the ABA wasn't a cartoon, but an innovator that saved professional basketball In early 1976 as the game approached, however, survival was the order of the day.

Perhaps there was some hope within the ABA that by presenting the image of a strong league, the NBA would focus more on merging the two leagues than putting the ABA out of business. But at the time, the ABA and its All-Star hosts, the Denver Nuggets, were concerned with more mundane matters such as actually getting the teams into Denver to play or beaming the game to more than just the dedicated fans sitting in Indianapolis, San Antonio, New York, and Denver. They were worried about the simple things, like selling the game out.

The 9th Annual All-Star Game was billed as having an "innovative new format," where the league-leading team would face off against the All-Stars from the rest of the ABA. In reality the league was forced into a new format, having been reduced to an odd number of teams. As the game approached, the ABA was struggling to stay alive.

The good news was that the Denver Nuggets, host of the game in their brand-new, sold-out McNichols Arena, would be the team to challenge the All-Stars. An ABA-record crowd of 17,798 turned out not only to witness a league All-Star Game, but an extended celebration of all that made the ABA different.

The long night began with a two-hour concert by the Silver Fox, Charlie Rich, and Glen Campbell, the Rhinestone Cowboy. It was hardly innovative, although the Silver Foxes and Rhinestone Cowboys could well have qualified as ABA team nicknames.

It was, in fact, one innovation--a halftime slam-dunk contest--that would make this All-Star Game the most memorable in basketball history.

The ABA wanted to look good for a possible merger, but their primary intention in arranging the concert and the dunk contest was simply to make absolutely sure that the game would be a sellout," says Arthur Hundhausen, who developed and administers www.RemembertheABA.com, the definitive ABA Web site.

The end product of the smashing success of the Slam Dunk Contest was flint few fans recall the All-Star Game itself. But when revisiting the game action, it's not hard to see how just a half season after the 1976 All-Star Game, the ABA's influence was electroshock therapy delivered to the NBA.

Nowhere but the ABA would you have seen touchdown fast-break passes like the one-handed outlet pass from Larry Kenon used to start a break in the first half. Nowhere else would a move like Julius Erving's wicked wraparound, behind-the-back bounce pass from the top of the key to James Silas under the basket for a layup be encouraged. In the ABA, several cross-court passes on a single fast break was common. And free throws, made or missed, were always an invitation to fast-break the other way. In today's game, plays such as these are considered icing on the cake. And the fact is, those prays were just as foreign to the NBA game of 25 years ago.

With broadcaster Al Albert pumped and saying the hard-fought first half was "like a playoff game," the All-Stars took a 56-55 lead on Denver into the locker room.

Only nobody went to the locker room.

"You are about to witness one of the most spectacular events in professional basketball, the Slam Dunk Contest," said Albert, who slipped quickly into the role of emcee for the contest. The five slam-dunkers were Kentucky Colonels center Artis Gilmore, San Antonio Spurs guard George Gervin and forward Larry Kenon, rookie guard David Thompson of the Nuggets, and New York Nets forward Erving. Erving was introduced as "the man who's turned the slam dunk into an art and thrilled ABA fans with moves beyond recognition." The group, according to Albert, was made up of "five of the most talented, colorful players in basketball, all with a flair for that sensational slam dunk."

The Spirits' Maurice Lucas was more succinct, whispering, "That is one serious crew."

By the time the contest began, All-Stars coach Kevin Loughery was so excited he was standing on the court like a dad splitting up sides for a blacktop game. None of the players had gone back to the locker rooms--they were all out on the benches watching, fans once more. The participants, with no seats left on the benches, sat cross-legged on the court, the team that's got next.

In today's NBA, with its well-lit arenas and collapsible rims, dunking might not seem a dangerous thing. But 25 years ago, things were much different. Shadows from faint lighting were cast on ABA and NBA floors alike, and in the pre-Chocolate Thunder era of non-breakaway rims, a missed dunk might not only damage a player's pride by throwing a shot back 50 or 100 feet, but throw a dunker to the ground.

The rules were pretty simple: five dunks, one standing under the rim, one taking off from the bottom free-throw circle, 10 feet from the basket, and three freelance dunks from the left, right, and baseline. Points were awarded based on artistic ability, imagination, body flow, and fan response.

Gilmore set the tone for the contest by bending to pick up two balls for his first dunk. To the crowd's hooting, Albert informed, "Yes, you can use as many balls as you want." Setting up for his third dunk, Gilmore commiserated with an ABA official. "Can the photographers under the basket please move over?" Albert asked. "The Denver Nuggets fear for your lives." But Gilmore had no chance to win, because he dunked only four times--and no one noticed!

Gervin initially grabbed two balls to answer Gilmore, then reconsidered and rolled one away, to laughter. He did have the courage to unleash his "coiled snake," accomplished by wrapping his right arm around the ball and uncoiling it like a snake, with the ball rolling down his arm and fingers. Kenon flew high and far with a rim-shaker and finished with an impressive flying baseline cram, but both he and Gervin ended up out of the running.

Thompson and Erving's duel was epic [see sidebar "I Scared the Doctor"]. In the end, Thompson's fourth-dunk miss, where he soared in from the left side and tried to dunk the ball off the backboard, likely cost him the first-ever Slam Dunk Contest title.

And when it came time to dole out the $1,200 in prizes to be split among the participants, there was something charmingly innocent about seeing Gervin and Gilmore immediately rip open their envelopes on their way back to the bench to see what they'd won.

An encore thru would get the Denver fans as filed up as the Slam Dunk Contest did was impossible. But the end of the game itself did a pretty good a job.

The second half was a back-and-forth affair. Among the dozens of gorgeous plays was Kenon's floating layup, which finished off a 10-point run and gave the All-Stars a 71-67 lead in the third. But by the fourth quarter, when the playoff atmosphere Albert had alluded to really took over, tempera began to flare. Erving, who scored 10 quick first-quarter points but was held scoreless in the second and third, was dearly frustrated by the physical play of Denver's Gus Gerard, jawing with the refs and twisting his offensive drives from graceful to forceful.