Donovan Mitchell, presented with the challenge of solving the NBA’s oft-discussed ratings issue, smiled as he gave his immediate retort.

“Get into more fights,” the Cleveland Cavaliers star said.

He was joking, of course, and provided his usual eloquence in his real answer. But the essence of his quip was onto something.

The biggest issue with the NBA isn’t (primarily) how many 3-pointers are being cast, except maybe for those hunting for disparagement. Nor is it the length of the season, or the perceived triviality of regular-season games. Are those concerns? Sure. But only as low-hanging fruit for the unsatiated.

The real issue, the one proven by the spike in ratings on Christmas Day, is the wanting magnetism of the league’s stars not named Stephen Curry, LeBron James and Kevin Durant. It’s the next generation of NBA ambassadors who have yet to do enough to seize attention.

LeBron and Curry both lead mediocre teams and still dominated the NBA’s showcase day.

No doubt, it’s unfair to compare the appeal of the next wave of stars with legends who have footprints in three decades. But it’s certainly fair to wonder who will take the baton from them. Or who even wants it. We know Anthony Edwards does, but the Minnesota Timberwolves star’s got to win for his charisma to matter. We know Jayson Tatum wants it, but the Boston Celtics leader’s charisma doesn’t quite match his success. It’s a tricky dance.

But the NBA was built on this, on a superstardom that’s as much intangible as it is palpable. The NBA was built on the magnetism of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. The former was more front-facing than the latter, but they both did the job of putting the league on their backs.

Michael Jordan made sure he was always dressed well and presentable, honoring the reality that seeing him was a moment for people. Kobe Bryant groomed his whole life for the mantel. James has been willingly in the public consciousness since he was 16 years old. Curry saturates the market with himself. Durant would seem to be the anti-superstar, but he traffics in accessibility and transparency and cares about the league and the game as much as anyone, if not more.

What NBA superstars, the one who carry the league, have always seemed to understand is the role is as much a responsibility as it is a perk. Along with the maximum contracts and the honor of the elite realm comes the burden of carrying the torch.

And Mitchell made a fair point. Their burden didn’t end with their playing days.

“The way we talk about our game is huge,” Mitchell said. “The way we talk about our current players, I think, has a huge impact on what people think. You have some people saying, ‘Who is this guy? How is he getting paid this?’ I think that overall is not the greatest look. … A lot of guys who are retired that have shown love and continually will. But I think that’s a big thing … the way you talk about the product, in a sense. That’s something we really can be better at as a whole, as a brotherhood.”

Still, it feels like the succeeding generation of superstars doesn’t care so much to continue the tradition of putting the league on their back, of winning the affection of the audience.

Jayson Tatum backs down Shai Gilgeous-Alexander during a game Sunday in Oklahoma City. They’re among the biggest of the new generation of NBA stars. (Joshua Gateley / Getty Images)

In fairness to them, some of these players just aren’t naturally drawn to the spotlight. And they’re just being their authentic selves, retreating to the confines of obscurity and peace.

In fairness to them, several of them are not from this nation. They may not long for affinity from the American populace. Nikola Jokić, the best player in the league, doesn’t seem to desire it at all. Certainly, those who want it, may understandably not be savvy on how to get it. They have their own home to which they can retreat. That’s the reality of a global league.

In fairness to them, they’ve been raised in a different time. Expectations of access have grown debilitating, so have the ramifications of such access. Anyone who watched “The Last Dance,” ESPN’s documentary on the Chicago Bulls’ 1997-98 season, saw the pound of flesh superstardom took from Jordan. That was just traditional newspaper and broadcast journalists. The media landscape since then has multiplied like wet Gremlins.

So it must be confessed — the desire to not dive headfirst into this setup is actually a rational response. But since the players aren’t rewarded rationally, it’s fair to ask for them to go ahead and dive in anyway. Like their ancestors in superstardom.

We need more from the next generation.

They’ve got the greatness down. These dudes are good. The skill is off the charts.

“For us,” Mitchell explained on the role of the next wave of stars, “it’s continuing to play high-level basketball. There’s always going to be discourse. There’s always going to be something to talk about. Just continue to play high-level basketball. … I think the biggest thing for us is to continue to carry the game.”

Yes. But it takes more than just great basketball. It takes more than these unappealing manicured personas curated from a focus group by some publicity firm. It takes more than safe comments for fear of going viral. It takes more than just wanting to play basketball and go home.

Mitchell knows this. He is an irrefutable fan of the game. At 28, he’s also part of the collection of torch-bearers for the future. His Cavaliers being atop the Eastern Conference is setting him up to be one of the chief ambassadors. When the smoke arrives in the playoffs, whether from Boston or Milwaukee, Mitchell will inhale.

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Wednesday night, he clashes with Shai Gilgeous-Alexander. Oklahoma City versus Cleveland is a potential NBA Finals preview. It pits two of the most explosive guards in Mitchell and SGA, two incredible young players in Jalen Williams and Evan Mobley. It should be a prime matchup.

All it needs is some fireworks.

That’s the NBA’s secret sauce. Rivalries. Which are sparked by personalities and fueled storylines. The clashing of stars. Players who inspire hate and love.

The NBA is culpable. Ownership’s bent on suppressing dynasties also deprives the league of that special element dynasties bring. Now it’s lacking and unclear from where it will come.

It increases the need for players to uphold the banner. Such requires vulnerability from the characters, a revealing of more than just one’s game. A willingness to play a part in the melodrama of it all.

“More fights,” as Mitchell joked, can be translated to more of a willingness to mix it up. More of a willingness to clash with each other. More of a willingness to competitively, theatrically, challenge one another. More of a willingness to at least be transparent and embrace whatever drama comes as a result.

That’s how LeBron and Curry got to this point, where they are senior citizens of basketball and still the chief needle movers. They dueled for four straight years at the highest levels. They go at each other. Their history includes trash talk and competitive ice between them. They’ve inspired disdain as much as adoration, which doubled their interest. They weren’t interested in playing it cool.

The NBA is desperate for a new rivalry.

It looked for a while as if the Dallas Mavericks’ Luka Dončić and Phoenix Suns’ Devin Booker would be next. We know Dončić is willing to mix it up. But that spark was short-lived, though entirely riveting.

It looked for a while as if Ja Morant was next. And he still may be. But he must get his Memphis Grizzlies back on that big stage.

It looked as if Edwards was heading to the top. But his Timberwolves are starting to feel more like a flash in the pan.

Who takes the torch? It doesn’t get passed by osmosis. Someone has to go pry it from the hands of its current owners. Someone has to get to the big stage frequently enough, and be impactful enough while on it, to inspire passion.

Two of the future faces of the league, so the NBA hopes, closed 2024 with a showdown in Oklahoma City. SGA vs. Ant Man.

Gilgeous-Alexander scored 19 of his 40 points in a dominant third quarter. He made 15 shots, nine came in the paint, and seven of those in the restricted area. It was a display of SGA’s mastery of penetration. He was asked about finding his way to the rim against one of the league’s best defenses — featuring perimeter hounds such as Jaden McDaniels, Donte DiVincenzo and Edwards, and anchored by four-time Defensive Player of the Year Rudy Gobert.

SGA, surrounded by his teammates as with every on-court interview, impregnated a pause before answering. He eventually let out a “hmmmm” while sighfully slumping his shoulders. He looked toward the rafters as he searched his brain for an answer. He even rubbed his chin, trying to massage his mind for the right words.

The NBA needs him to use this moment to make it a moment. In competition for attention spans, with the NFL encroaching on their space, with the narrative demeaning the league, it would behoove SGA to lean in. Declare his supremacy. Taunt Edwards. Make this something. “More fights.” It clearly wouldn’t be organic for him. But it would surely be useful.

Finally, he answered.

“I,” Gilgeous-Alexander said, holding his mouth open for a beat before letting the words escape, “I get to the rim on anybody.”

Close enough. For now.

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(top photo of Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and Donovan Mitchell: Jason Miller / Getty Images)