THE NBA IS is one of the world's most exclusive clubs, a bastion of privilege and entitlement. But like any exclusive club, there are levels of exclusivity. Even in the rarefied social strata of the NBA, there is significant cachet in becoming one of the select few who reside behind the rope line.

Within this subset of exceptionalism, the VIP club within the VIP club, one quality is exalted above all others: the power of the individual to impose his will on teammates, coaches and even entire organizations.

The extraordinary few possess talent so widely desired -- for both brand and basketball purposes -- that they can trample any agenda or ego in their path. They can, in effect, create their own reality.

Sometimes it can be messy, even at the top. Dwight Howard's forced trade from Orlando was about as graceful as a thousand Dwight Howard free throws. Chris Paul's exit from New Orleans to the Clippers had one major false start and a scene-eating appearance from commissioner David Stern. In the end, though, both situations had the same outcome: The deals eventually happened, and the players got what they wanted. For those at the highest reaches of the highest echelon, things get done. Concessions are made. Issues are resolved. Mountains are moved.

And among those who have dictated terms and gotten their way, few have been as wildly, completely and consistently successful as Carmelo Anthony. He is perhaps the NBA's master of the species, a man who managed to place himself at the center of a world of his own devising and hold his ground against any and all comers.

ON JULY 10, 2010, at New York's ultratrendy Cipriani, Anthony married La La Vasquez, a television personality best known for her work as co-host of MTV's Total Request Live. When it came time for some of the 320 A-list invitees to toast the newlyweds, Paul -- still a Hornets guard and a fellow club-within-a-club member -- raised a glass to a future Knicks Big Three of him, Melo and Amar'e Stoudemire.

At the time, Anthony was three months from beginning the final season of his contract with the Nuggets. As the biggest-name free agent of the 2011 class, he drafted in the wake of LeBron James' move to Miami, announced July 8, 2010. The timing was fortuitous. Some teams, the Knicks included, had spent as much as two years adjusting their rosters and payrolls to make a run at James. The fallout from The Decision was widespread. To compete with the Heat, both in wins and wattage, big names were courted by the league's anchor franchises. The stars of the NBA's star system were coming to understand their power to work the game to their benefit as teams became fixated on doubling or tripling up on big-name players. This kind of leverage would never pass Anthony's way again.



Seven months after his wedding, despite protracted pre-trade drama in which the result was predetermined, Anthony was sent to the Knicks in a blockbuster trade that altered the identities of two teams. He could have waited, could have told his handlers to hold off on giving the Nuggets the short list of teams to which he would deign to be traded and simply finished the season with Denver before signing with the Knicks in the offseason. Instead, he forced the issue; in the process, he received a maximum contract from the Knicks (a three-year extension for $65 million) while depleting his new team of such valuable young players as Danilo Gallinari and Wilson Chandler, not to mention New York's first-round draft pick in 2014. In the interest of finding a better situation, Anthony unwittingly created a worse one.

At an appearance promoting the release of his M8 sneaker last October, Anthony explained that the impending NBA lockout forced his hand. "For the average person out there who thought I was just trying to leave for no reason, that really was a big key to my decision," he told reporters. "I knew free agency was coming. I knew it would be altered. I knew it'd be messed up, so imagine if I'd have stayed. I'd have been a free agent now in limbo."

His arrival in New York was preceded by the perfect confluence of circumstances -- a star-starved team in a star-driven league in the ultimate star-obsessed market. Ego is a supply-side proposition. Knicks owner James Dolan was not about to compete in New York against the suddenly relevant Nets -- with their flamboyant Russian billionaire owner, Jay-Z and a flashy new building in Brooklyn -- without a celebrity frontman. For a guy like Dolan in a city like New York with a team like the Knicks, Anthony -- or someone like him -- is as vital an accessory as a personal driver.

And now, as Melo begins his first nontrade, nonlockout season in New York, Dolan's team looks more like the Carmelo Anthony Project than any of the swells raising a glass could have imagined.