Consider Tim Duncan’s 2012 decision to take a big pay cut, thus allowing the Spurs to retain Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker on equally reduced deals. His “selflessness” was universally heralded as proof of what a fine, upstanding man/role model Duncan is. After all, he sacrificed individual financial reward for the greater good—in this case the perpetuation of the finely tuned machine that is the Spurs dynasty. (It helps the narrative that San Antonio has made back-to-back finals and won a title since, and Duncan has opted-in for another below-market $10 million deal in 2014-’15.)

But Duncan’s choice wasn’t a sacrifice or an example of him being selfless; it was a sound professional strategy. He chose to continue playing for best coach in the league, a top general manager in R.C. Buford, with an owner that lets the people he hires do their jobs, in a small media market that allows him to go about his business, surrounded by teammates like Parker and Ginobili, who share his goals.

Those factors, in Duncan’s estimation, were worth a haircut of about $10 million a year. Happiness and familiarity and, yes, winning, were worth the cash. But make no mistake, Tim Duncan made the choice that best served Tim Duncan.

Being selfless would have required an actual sacrifice of some sort. This was merely a transaction. Duncan looked at all the possible options and chose the path that best suited his personal needs and wants.

In this instance, on whatever version of the Elizabethan Great Chain of Being he uses—I assume Duncan’s also includes reasonably priced pleated slacks, getting a good night’s rest and avoiding spicy foods—the cash ranked lower than keeping the gang together in the Alamodome.

If ‘Melo gets a max contract, the narrative will center around the theory that he selfishly and greedily eschewed all hope of joining a legit contender, thus providing a clear indicator of his low character and/or wrong-headed priorities. Ironically, though, were Anthony to join a loaded squad at a reduced rate, the talking heads will slam him as being “disloyal” or lacking the intestinal fortitude to stick things out in the Big Apple.

It’s a no-win situation, and none of the labels will be deserved.

But Carmelo, just like Duncan, is weighing all the possible factors, choosing what’s best within a limited spectrum and trying to maximize his personal happiness. He is no more acting selfishly than Duncan is/was and vice versa.

Whether it’s about money or playing with your best bros, all free agency choices are derived from self-interest — also known as “contract negotiations.”

There are, of course, examples of unselfish acts in sports Muhammad Ali was stripped of his titles because he refused to fight in the Vietnam War. Curt Flood took Major League Baseball to court, knowing he’d be blackballed from the sport. Those were sacrifices. Revisionist history conveniently forgets that both Ali and Flood were called ‘selfish’ back then — and far, far worse.

Despite all this, it also happens to be wildly hypocritical to expect that NBA players live up to a standard that we ourselves rarely uphold. We do this kind of negotiating and decision-making at our jobs, on the regular, though, admittedly, few of us are members of the NBA Tax Bracket Club. We all think that we are worth more than what we are currently making, and when we lobby for a raise, we don’t fret about how that might impact the paycheck of Sheila in H.R.

For the rare birds that think wanting to earn as much as possible is a deadly sin, well, their beef is with Capitalism as a whole — and there are certainly other actors in said system that warrant attention ahead of 25+ PPG-scoring forwards.

The reason fans and writers feel comfortable hurling such vitriol — even though NBA stars are seriously underpaid — is that the owners have cobbled together a nifty framework that restricts salaries while somehow managing to successfully pedal the flimsy idea that the cap is necessary to maintain competitive balance. In reality, it’s just a marketing ploy that provides ample cover for a darned effective means of tamping down wages and ensuring profit.

Ultimately, there’s a horrible double standard at play here.

Owners and teams are rarely ever forced to undergo a moral and/or ethical inquisition with regard to their contract decisions. In fact, if a team low balls a player, we laud the strategy as “shrewd cap management.” We never hear that snagging a player for pennies on the dollar/less than they’re actually worth is in any way “wrong.” And when teams do pay players more than he might be worth as a reward for prior service? Well, then they’re considered steak-brained dunderheads (Hello, Los Angeles Lakers and Kobe Bryant!).

NBA ownership and their front offices get to operate in a morality-free zone. Players, on the other hand, must consider “sacrificing for the good of the team,” lest they be publicly shunned and subject to Pat Riley’s grumping and spittle-flecked barbs about loyalty and Phil Jackson’s glib philosophizing about “taking less.” (Forget the fact that the former bailed on New York via fax and the latter just inked a preposterously large contract for an executive with zero experience.)

In a perfect world, Carmelo Anthony would re-sign for a miniscule (for him) deal, or, if he’s determined to flee, net the Knicks as many assets as possible in return via a sign-and-trade. Depending on how things pan out, there’s a reasonably good chance that Knicks fans, like me, will be upset. But whatever happens, it doesn’t mean that ‘Melo is disloyal or a #TRADER or selfish. He is a human being, trying to find the best work situation for him.

In reality, the vast sums of free agency money are an illusion, a fiction that dupes us, as fans and bystanders, into participating in this faulty and flawed narrative, and prompts us to impose a morality that we rarely practice ourselves upon others:

“Jeez, if I’ve already made a bajillion dollars playing a kid’s game, I would give some of that sweet, sweet currency to win. Why doesn’t Player X want to win as much as I do? Why doesn’t he care about the greater glory of my beloved Team Y? Look at all the love I have given, and you, Player X, can’t sacrifice a couple of zeros in your bank account? Why, you are a callous mercenary, a greedy, selfish, spoiled, self-centered celebutant! Darling, please get me my papier-mâché so I can craft an effigy and burn him!”

It’s easy, and probably somewhat cathartic to get pissed at ‘Melo or whomever, and to be clear, if you want to dislike a particular player based where he signs, you’d be totally justified. But the truth is, when we fall into the trap of embodying the worst of the scalding-hot takes, it’s really just siding with NBA management over labor.

And that just isn’t right.