Fashionistas

It's safe to say that over the years the style of the NBA has changed significantly. From Cousy's booty shorts, to Dr. J's rocking 'fro, to Walton's Wimbledon outfit (truly one of the greatest looks in the history of time), back to, um, Stockton's booty shorts, the NBA has certainly gone through the spin cycle when it comes to fashion.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Needless to say, the current generation perennially mocks the styles of yore. What were they thinking? We muse. How could they get up in the morning, put on those shorts, and think that looked good? Great questions. No one, ever, needs to see that much man-leg. Ever. And some of the hairstyles, like the buzz-fade (think Pippen circa 1994) were questionable at best. You won't get any argument from me there.

Here's the rub though: while some styles of old may be an affront to the senses, this current generation has no room to talk. Without a doubt, we will look back at this era and wonder "what-in-the-hell-they-were-thinking?!?!", more so than any other time. And there is one particular facet of today's fashion that puts this generation in sole possession of the title "Worst Dressed Ever". It's not the overly baggy shorts. It's not the corn-rows. It's not the neck tattoos.

It is, of course, the shooter sleeve.

I'd gouge my eyes out too if I had to wear that thing.

A horrible hybrid between a broken condom and a tube sock, the shooter sleeve is so unfathomably dumb looking that it borders on the incomprehensible. Who thought it would be cool to wrap your shooting arm (the arm that you want to grant as much freedom of movement as possible) in saran wrap?

Turns out this isn't a rhetorical question. The first instance of it can be traced back to Allen Iverson. The small dog with a huge heart, AI first sported the sleeve for actual utilitarian reasons. In 2001 doctors prescribed the band to help protect his right elbow from a recurring bout with bursitis. Of course, that year Iverson lead his ragtag 76ers squad to the NBA Finals against a juggernaut Lakers team, handing Shaq, Kobe and company their only playoff defeat that year during game 1 of the NBA Finals.

One moment in particular from that game cemented the shooter sleeve's popularity:

The amount of things going on in that moment created a perfect storm of exposure for the sleeve. A transcendent star (Iverson) on the biggest stage (the NBA Finals) draining a crucial crunch time shot (helping seal the 107-101 upset) over an unlikeable opposing defender (Tyrone Lue) playing for a heavy favorite (the Lakers) through a stalwart combination of grit, skill, and determination (that shot capped off an unanswered 7 point offensive explosion for AI) sealed the deal. If that was not enough, Iverson's swagger-tastic walk over a prone Lue further cemented its staying power.

That shot was replayed over and over, and as a result, the sleeve got exceeding (if not unintentional) nation-wide exposure.

And with that, it was off to the races. Players (without any recorded instance of elbow injuries) in the following seasons began to wear the shooter sleeve. Superstars took to it as well; Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Chris Paul, and more all embraced the sleeve. They took it too adorable levels too, coordinating their their shooter sleeves with their uniforms and other accessories.

Now, there are theories abound regarding the sleeve. Some conspiracy theorists state that many players have to wear it to cover up gang-related tattoos. Others say that the padding is needed thanks in part to the increased physicality of the modern game. NBA players would have you believe that they wear it because it prevents sweat from the forearm from reaching the shooting hand while simultaneously aiding blood circulation. There's also the school of thought that it could prevent future elbow injuries. The NBA store doesn't care what you think; they just want you to pick one up for only $14.99 (For a tube of spandex with the NBA logo on it? What a steal!)

Having worn one myself for a couple games of pick-up (borrowed it, I swear), I call bollocks. The only thing it does is make your arm ridiculously, grossly, been-in-the-sauna-for-an-hour sweaty. It's also a major distraction; every time I'd pull up for a shot, my eye would be drawn to the large black-tube engulfing my poor arm. Needless to say, my shooting performance suffered.

The one benefit of it all is this: in thirty years when we're not busy shuttling around in our flying cars or trying to liberate ourselves from our despotic robot overlords, we can look back on this time in the NBA fondly and get a good chuckle out of the style that was.

And look on the bright-side: at least they aren't wearing cut-offs anymore.