Bold take: the 65-game rule that governs MVP eligibility is a big reason we might miss a deserving season-long performance in NBA history. But here’s where it gets controversial: should a rule about how many games you played truly decide who is recognized as the league’s best? The issue is whether a player’s health and availability should be as decisive as the raw numbers they post on the court.
There’s a strong case that Cade Cunningham deserves MVP consideration this year. He leads the league in total assists, sits fifth in value over replacement player, and ranks eighth in win shares for a Pistons team that exceeded preseason expectations by contending in the Eastern Conference. Still, he isn’t universally viewed as the best player in the league—names like Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Nikola Jokić, and Victor Wembanyama remain ahead in the eyes of many analysts.
The 2023 NBA Collective Bargaining Agreement includes a rule that limits MVP eligibility to players who averaged at least 20 minutes per game for a minimum of 63 games, effectively allowing a player to miss no more than 17 games in a season. The intention was to curb load management—star players resting to protect themselves—yet the rule now courts unintended consequences. Jokić can miss one more game and still be in the running, Wembanyama can miss three, and Gilgeous-Alexander six, with roughly 20 regular-season games left. Notable stars like Giannis Antetokounmpo, Stephen Curry, and LeBron James have already surpassed that 17-game threshold. This is the first time LeBron might miss an All-NBA team since his rookie year, which underscores how far the rule’s reach can extend beyond MVP accusations.
Historical context helps illuminate the problem. Shaquille O’Neal, hampered by knee injuries, still posted strong averages and earned All-NBA honors during seasons he played far fewer than 65 games. The All-NBA criteria reward dominance and impact, not simply the number of games played. Applying a similar yardstick to the MVP award, however, introduces a different dynamic: only two MVPs have played fewer than 65 regular-season games in the modern era (discounting lockouts). Bill Walton’s 1977-1978 campaign is often cited; he led Portland to a 50-10 record before a season-ending injury, and the Blazers went 8-14 in his absence. Walton captured MVP glory that year, but under a strict 65-game rule, his dominance would not have earned him that honor.
The current season presents a similar crossroads. Jokić and Gilgeous-Alexander lead in key value metrics—win shares, player efficiency rating, and value over replacement—almost in lockstep. If either star fails to meet the “65 games” threshold, the conference may overlook a superior on-court impact. If Cunningham is healthy and the Pistons continue to perform, many will wonder whether he won’t deserve MVP recognition simply because he missed a handful of games. In other words, health could overshadow true value when the season ends.
A constructive middle ground would be to preserve the spirit of the 65-game rule while adjusting how we measure value. Rather than an exact games-played cutoff, consider a minimum minutes-played floor across the season. This would honor players who contribute consistently and have a real impact, without the blunt rigidity of a fixed game-count. It would also better reflect the modern NBA, where the pace, length, and physical toll of an 82-game grind contribute to injuries and strategic rest decisions.
The league’s challenge is real: balance discouraging unnecessary load management with recognizing the enduring value of players who stay healthy and productive when it matters most. If the rule remains, it ought to be flexible enough to acknowledge those who dominate the season in impact, even if they miss a few games. If it changes, it should do so with clear reasoning and a plan that still discourages frivolous rest.
In the end, the question isn’t simply about one season or one award. It’s about shaping a framework that fairly honors the best players while acknowledging the realities of a grueling, injury-prone 82-game schedule. Do we prize consistency and health as essential markers of greatness, or do we weigh the pure, on-court value registered in the stats and the wins? Which side would you defend in the comments: should MVP consideration bend to health, or should it relentlessly measure impact regardless of availability?
