At the risk of being labeled The Grinch Who Stole Basketball Season, the overall quality of boys’ hoop in Maine this winter is succinctly summarized in three words.

Stink. Stank. Stunk.

Innocent parties know who they are. Mountain Valley merits a get-out-of-this-rant-free card for being powerful as ever. Matt McDonnell and twins Leif and Thomas Kothe of Oxford Hills are worth the price of admission.

Top to bottom, however, the state of our hardwood union is decrepit and fundamentally bankrupt, in dire need of an Extreme Makeover.

And if I were appointed surgeon, or at least de facto commissioner, I’d start by declaring a moratorium on alphabet soup. As in banning all consumption of NBA and marketing a homegrown, generic equivalent to AAU.

Maine basketball has been hijacked by the same chowder-headed logic that tells us we need an East-West Highway or cellular phone service in the Allagash. The secret to our state’s charm is staunch independence; our collective desire to avoid resembling the rest of a charm-less world.

It used to be true in a boys’ basketball context, too. Leave the dunking and chest-thumping to the professionals. Our boys understood the bounce pass and man-to-man defense. Imagine that!

Then, just as the pro game imploded, Maine’s little cranny of the hoop universe devolved into an individual talent showcase.

On the meat market’

Your school’s coach was handcuffed by well-meaning regulations that prohibited him from instructing any time other than late November to early February (or summer vacation, when the Maine Principals’ Association’s own hands are tied). Therefore, he became just another whistle-wielding bug in your boy’s ear.

Meanwhile, an apocalyptic organization called the Amateur Athletic Union began catering to all-star travel teams of all ages. The top two or three players from your school started skipping baseball season and flying to weekend tournaments in Paducah and Pocatello, supervised by somebody’s parent or a fired varsity coach with an ax to grind.

Moderate achievers returned home with an earful of mush, believing that x’ points and y’ rebounds per game could get them a look from a mid-major Division I university. Highest achievers attended meat market summer camps sponsored by sneaker companies.

So what about Joey or Jimmy, the three-sport letterman who’s only 5-foot-10, nothing special, just stubborn enough to be the consummate team player? He was forgotten.

Hey, there’s no question that the American Idol-ization of Maine basketball has fulfilled everything its mad scientists set out to achieve. When Maryland dismissed Duke and Georgia Tech last week, Deering product Nik Caner-Medley showed everyone he’s the Terrapins’ top player.

Ten years after

It’s been quite a run, really, if you consider that Andy Bedard, T.J. Caouette, Jamaal Caterina and Chris Markwood preceded Caner-Medley. Ralph Mims is next, and Houlton native Mark Socoby, now a junior at Bangor High School, could exceed them all.

But the consequences of a decade of trickle-down basketball economics are coming home to roost. This touting of top-tier talent has eviscerated the middle class.

Go ahead. Ask area small-college coaches which seniors are on their radar screen. One recently told me his second choice is a 6-foot-7 center who’s seen almost no floor time in high school. No doubt one of the coach’s conclusions is that he can’t teach height. His other motivation is that the kid won’t require a season of deprogramming.

A veteran high school coach told me the talent level in his conference is the lowest it’s been in his career. Luckily for him, he’s surrounded by lunch-bucket types who’ll do anything he asks.

There’s the rub: Should he coach them in the style that gives them the best chance to make the tournament (a pedestrian pace with the fan appeal of a filibuster on C-SPAN2), or let ’em loose, have fun but go 3-15?

Just another reason I wouldn’t want his job in a million years.

Until somebody stops the insanity, though, coaches, spectators and 90 percent of boys’ basketball players in Maine will sniff the stench.

Kalle Oakes is a staff writer. His e-mail is [email protected].