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The NBA is filled with electrifying moments that captivate fans around the world, but one thing that’s overstayed its welcome is the relentless cry of “And One!” from players on nearly every contested layup or dunk. It doesn’t matter if there’s actual contact or if the referee’s whistle remains silent—this cry has become a reflex, an empty routine that adds nothing to the game and everything to the annoyance of watching it.

The “And One!” shout used to mean something. It was a badge of honor, a battle cry after absorbing real contact and still finishing the play. It symbolized resilience and skill. But in today’s NBA, it’s become a hollow plea, shouted as much for the arena microphones as for the officials. Players like Draymond Green, LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, and Karl-Anthony Towns are among those who have turned this into an automatic part of their shot routine, regardless of whether the contact warrants it. Instead of highlighting toughness, it now feels like whining—a desperate bid for acknowledgment that cheapens the artistry of attacking the rim.

Basketball is a physical sport, and contact is part of the game. A hard-fought finish through a genuine foul is thrilling because it shows grit and determination. But when players shout “And One!” after the faintest brush of contact—or worse, when there’s no contact at all—it distracts from the beauty of the play. Instead of marveling at their skill, fans are left rolling their eyes at the theatrics.

Even worse, some players now actively seek out contact just to shout for a foul. They alter their shots, timing, and body positioning to make it look like they were impeded, even when their intent is never to score but merely to draw a whistle. This habit of gaming the system is painfully obvious to fans paying attention, making it harder to appreciate these moments as legitimate.

Most of the time, the cry of “And One!” falls on deaf ears. Referees ignore it, as they should. Yet players continue to scream it, turning what was once a celebration of resilience into an unnecessary noise polluting the game. This endless demand for fouls transforms competitors into complainers and drains the game of its authenticity.

In the era of Michael Jordan, Allen Iverson, and Kobe Bryant, the “And One!” moment carried weight. It wasn’t something you heard after every layup; it was reserved for those rare, jaw-dropping feats of skill and strength—finishes where contact was undeniable, and the shot was still pure magic. Fans didn’t need players to yell for a foul because the play itself did the talking. When Shaq muscled through a defender or AI split two players to score, it was a moment of collective awe.

Back then, players didn’t rely on gimmicks or incessant complaints to make their mark. They focused on competing. The crowd would rise to their feet, commentators would rave, and kids at home would rush to mimic their favorite stars. The “And One!” shout was situational, not a knee-jerk reaction to every bump in the paint.

The modern NBA has shifted from skill-based celebrations to performative antics. Just like the overused “too small” gesture, the “And One!” shout has become a default response for any and every contested shot. The problem is, overuse kills its impact. What was once a meaningful celebration of grit is now an irritating habit. It’s not even effective trash talk—it’s just noise.

Draymond Green shouting after getting an And One! call during a layup.

Players like Nikola Jokic, Kawhi Leonard, and Jrue Holiday stand out because they avoid these empty theatrics. Jokic, for instance, absorbs constant physical abuse in the paint—his arms often covered in visible scratch marks—yet he rarely complains. He simply plays. His dominance speaks for itself, and that’s why fans respect him. In contrast, hearing a player shout “And One!” for a routine layup makes them look more like a complainer than a competitor.

Imagine if the league returned to celebrating skill and resilience without relying on these overplayed gestures. Players could reserve their cries of “And One!” for genuinely hard-fought moments—when they’ve been clearly fouled and still manage to finish the play. That’s the kind of grit fans want to see, not a constant stream of unwarranted demands for free throws.

Players like Steph Curry and Kevin Durant have mastered the art of letting their game do the talking. They don’t need to shout at refs to command respect; their skill and work ethic speak volumes. The league could benefit from more players adopting this mindset. Let the game flow naturally, and let the fans—and the highlights—decide what’s worth celebrating.

Growing up, I watched legends like MJ, Kobe, Iverson, T-Mac, and Vince Carter attack the paint with fearless determination. These players faced brutal contact, but they didn’t waste time begging for fouls. They let their skills shine and left the complaining to fans at home or in the stands. As a kid, I’d lean toward the TV, mesmerized by their ability to finish plays despite the physicality of the game. Those moments were pure. They were about competition, not performance.

Even the big men—Garnett, Duncan, Hakeem, Yao—earned their dominance without needing to shout after every play. They commanded respect through their actions, not their words. Watching them was a reminder of what basketball could be: a battle of skill, strength, and strategy.

The “And One!” shout has had its moment, but it’s time to move on. Instead of filling games with empty cries for fouls, players should focus on the fundamentals that make basketball great: skill, creativity, and authentic competition. Fans don’t tune in to hear a chorus of complaints; they tune in to witness greatness.

Let’s hope the NBA moves past this tiresome trend and back to a time when moments on the court spoke for themselves. After all, the best celebrations don’t need to be shouted—they’re felt by everyone watching.