All-Star Moment: I AM DECLINING

I hate to be this guy, but I've got a job to do: Shaquille O'Neal is done.

This isn't some sort of revolutionary epiphany or anything; the guy has admitted he shouldn't have started the All-Star Game. But it's hard to ignore how much of a mockery of his own game he's become.

He's still a force inside the paint, in that he takes up a lot of space, gets a lot of rebounds in his general area, and can dunk. Outside of that and perhaps some defense by default, what exactly does he offer?

Of course, he's the goofiest dude in the league - the breakdancing on Saturday; the suit, hoots, and hollers during the Three-Point Shootout; the kiss on Tracy McGrady. He's a barrel of laughs, yeah. And aside from his almost embarrassing feud with Kobe Bryant, he's been a damn good ambassador for the game.

But it's a matter of minutes until people start openly discussing how much Shaq - He Who Brought The Ring - is killing the Heat. He's never going to play 50 games in a season again, he's not likely going to display 30-22 lines, and he won't deserve another All-Star start with Dwight Howard's ascendancy. This is fine - Shaq's given 14 good great tremendous years to the league. But it's over.

The moment I realized is pictured to the right - when he pulled his traditional showstopping play, this time a dribble-jab to pull-up/fadeaway/seizure from 18 feet. In past years, some version of this play - this big lumbering orc going Terrell Brandon on us, just for giggles - was one of the highlights of the show. This year? If not for the frightening sight of Mehmet Okur's homicidal chuckle, would we even remember the play?

Shaq has been eclipsed as a showman (see Gilbert), as a player (see Dwight), and as a transcendent superstar (see Kobe, LeBron). Shaq's done.

(I was all set on handing this award to Kevin Garnett before he displayed his erratic pulse proudly. Dude's got plenty left.)