The NBA Slam Dunk Contest and prop comedy have enjoyed a symbiotic relationship since Cedric Ceballos, during the 1992 competition, dunked while blindfolded by his headband.

Yet during the 2009 All-Star game in Phoenix, the game’s annual celebration of physical fortitude started to resemble a ventriloquism act, with commissioner David Stern’s hand up the dummy’s ass.

You could successfully argue that the NBA’s All-Star weekend trumps its other pro-league equivalents. The NFL’s Pro Bowl is held after the season and every player is so scared to tear a ligament that, as a result, the game’s intensity plummets. The NHL, two seasons ago for the mid-season tilt in Dallas, scheduled the All-Star game on a Wednesday, where it had abysmal television ratings. Only baseball’s equivalent, propelled by the Home Run Derby, can compare.

The NBA All-Star Skills Challenge — comprised of competitions in dunking, three-point shooting, point guard skills and a bizarre game with WNBA players and retired goons like Bill Laimbeer — continually produces iconic moments in our culture. Whether it’s Dwight Howard smacking a sticker of his goofy face at the top of the backboard, or Gerald Green blowing out a birthday candle from a cupcake on the hoop’s rim, some of these dunks require outside assistance.

This year everyone wanted a hand in the night’s gimmickry.

The judges set an early tone when they awarded Dwight Howard a perfect score for an average dunk which he took multiple tries to complete. Once all the competitors — Howard, Nate Robinson, Rudy Fernandez and J.R. Smith — had completed their first dunks, the script was set for a Howard/Robinson showdown, both of whom have won past dunk competitions.

The broadcasters seemed intent on playing up the David/Goliath side of their battle, an obvious choice since Robinson measures a generous 5-foot-9, while Howard, who claims to be Superman, comes in just under seven feet.

The first discretion of Carrot Top proportions came when, in round two, Dwight Howard had a forklift haul in an adjustable hoop, which was later given an extra two feet of height. Before completing this dunk with ease, a spectacle of Vegas-like extravagance took place. The loudspeakers played Superman theme music, Howard changed into his cape, and the television cameras conveniently panned to Stern, faking concern over pandemonium by hamming up the moment.

Later, Robinson returned for the final round in a green New York Knicks jersey. Yes, the colour of kryptonite. Robinson would defeat Howard, deservedly.

The NBA finds itself in an enviable position in this economic recession. Unlike baseball, the product hasn’t diminished in a cloud of over-priced steroid users. And unlike hockey, its American consumers have bought into a new generation of superstars.

The on-court product, chiefly the game’s players, has the talent to continually produce iconic moments without resorting to cheap gags on its most entertaining night.

The NBA should cut the strings and let its players dictate which moments etch themselves into pop culture history, and which get forgotten.