I get nervous whenever people begin pining for “the good old days.” There has been a lot of this over the last few days as the San Antonio Spurs have mopped the floor with the Miami Heat during the N.B.A. finals.  The Spurs’ style, so the narrative goes, is the proper, old-school way to play basketball: movement, hard cuts, crisp passing.  Like so much of the language we use in sports, “team ball” is a euphemism for whipping superior talent with brains, hustle and heady play. A system of selflessness in which no single player stands out on a team of relatively muted personalities.  But teamwork is multifaceted. The Heat, widely identified as the superior talent, won back-to-back championships — and defeated San Antonio last year — with exquisite team defense. LeBron James, the game’s best player, is regarded as one of the most unselfish superstars in N.B.A. history.  The league has distinguished itself because of the star system. Some may not like it, but it is the reason fans around the world do. As much as we sing the praises of the well-oiled San Antonio machine and its breathtaking teamwork, we love our stars, especially the outrageous and the bodacious.  Tim Duncan may be the greatest power forward in N.B.A. history, but Duncan’s personality does not sell tickets. Those are being sold by superstars who are on vacation selling insurance (Chris Paul), selling cars (Blake Griffin) or selling cellphones (Kevin Durant).  The disturbing underlying narrative of the finals is that superstar players like James, as much as we are drawn to them, should not chase championships by teaming up to form Big Twos and Big Threes.  The logic goes like this: Team ball is better than superstar ball. Superstars are prima donnas who should be discouraged from forming alliances with other superstars, as James did when he left Cleveland for Miami and as Carmelo Anthony of the Knicks may be ready to do, if there is truth to recent reports.  I have heard comments like this from writers and sportscasters — and even former players. They chastise players who choose to play with other superstars to give themselves the best chance at a title. But this is dangerous talk. Too many sacrifices have been made in unshackling players to begin putting restrictions on their freedom.  After a contract expires, a player has an obligation to himself to test free agency. If he has leverage, he can go where he wants. The choice is his. This is how the system has evolved: A great player determines where he wants to go, whom he wants to play with and how much money he is willing to take for his services.  Among the objections to superstars’ colluding is that such alliances will make teams in smaller markets less competitive. But almost every team has a star, or at least a potential star, to build around. Cleveland, for example, once had James; it now has a young star in Kyrie Irving and is in position to get another terrific young player in the draft. The more pertinent questions revolve around how well a team, no matter the size of the market, manages the players it has. How do you manage your complementary players? How do you build a bench as brilliant as San Antonio’s? How do you prepare players to live up to their potential?  Derek Fisher, the Knicks’ new coach, seems to recognize the challenge. In his introductory news conference last week, he said his goal was not necessarily to pair Anthony with another superstar.  “How do you make the most of what you have?” he said. “That’s the message I’ll send to these players every single day. We have to bloom where we’re planted a lot of times in life. You can’t look for ways out and excuses why you aren’t excelling.”  The conversation about the Spurs-Heat series has become a nuanced debate that mixes a preference of style against whether, or to what extent, superstars should be allowed to team up.  Style is a personal choice. I prefer the great soloist and the idiosyncrasies of the superstar — Kobe Bryant’s loner-ism, James’s dramatic flair.  But let’s not lump style and the business of free agency together. They are separate issues.  Some former players object to players’ joining forces to win a championship. Indeed, the old system was based on players’ not liking one another, not trusting one another and endeavoring to be the herculean force who carries a franchise to a title.  The new emerging system of free agency is built on star players saying, “Hey, let’s do something great together.”  This is the concept Doc Rivers introduced to Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen in Boston a few years ago: The better you are, the better I am; I want you to be great because that makes me great and makes us great.  That is the definition of great teamwork and certainly is the signature of this season’s Spurs. But that was also the signature of the Heat when they won consecutive titles. Some championship teams have great soloists and casts that willingly support them; other championship teams play as ensembles.  Regardless of which one you prefer, it is imperative that the soloist and the ensemble player test the open market.  This is what Curt Flood, Oscar Robertson and John Mackey fought for in baseball, basketball and football.  This is the evolution of the American way.  Pull for San Antonio, but please, let’s not root for the good old days.  A version of this article appears in print on June 15, 2014, on page SP3 of the New York edition with the headline: Teams Win Titles, but Superstars Sell the Sizzle, and Themselves. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe
Some may prefer breathtaking teamwork, but the N.B.A. has grown and is popular because of its star system. Get used to it.