The Slam Dunk Contest during NBA All-Star weekend kind of reminds me of going to your five-year high school reunion.

	Mason proudly holds the trophy for winning the dunk contest in 2001.

You don't really want to go because more than likely it is going to be boring and everything looks the same.

But it's difficult to stay away because there may be some excitement that everybody will be talking about. Who knows, you may get lucky.

Yeah, yeah, we're all jazzed up about the two-ball competition and the three-on-three basketball game and whatever else the league decides to do to include the WNBA players before the league folds up after this season (sorry, Val Ackerman), but like it or not, the highlight of All-Star Saturday night remains the Slam Dunk.

For some reason, we all want to go back and relive the moment that Michael Jordan got horizontal, or that time Dominique Wilkins went Don Quixote and windmilled us to our hearts content, or when teeny tiny Spud Webb pirhouetted his way to a title -- even though I still think they must have secretly lowered the rim for the Spudster. Just as I suspect that Ced Ceballos maybe, just maybe, could have snuck a peek through that cloth he allegedly put over his eyes.

Even last season, in Washington, when Desmond Mason took off from somewhere around the Manassas Battlefield and leaped over Rashard Lewis' back for a cram, it's all good stuff.

Those are the moments we live for, the ones we'll remember. Unfortunately, we have to go through what I like to call the Riverdance phenomenon -- a whole lot of action where we really see nothing significant.

And that's why, it seems, the competition has lost some of its luster.

Dunking does seem to have a finite end -- unless, of course, you are on one of those all-male dance teams that use trampolines to dunk, then it seems as if you can do it all day in every different yoga position imaginable. Dog Down while going up, as it were.

But if you are an athlete, there are only so many variations of jumping and hanging and twisting and thrusting you can do before the combinations become stale.

That is at least part of the reason that this year's crop of dunkers -- Mason, the defending champion, Sacramento's Gerald Wallace, Golden State's Jason Richardson and Houston's Steve Francis -- is the smallest field yet.

"Vince Carter amazed everybody a few years ago," said Brent Barry, who won the 1996 Slam Dunk contest with a redux of Jordan's flight from the free throw line. "And I'm sure this year's group will come up with something new. But, yeah, there is only so much you can do hanging in the air for so long. You run out of tricks."

According to Barry, there also is a sense among dunkers that the contest is a sideshow to the real action on Sunday afternoon, and those participating only in the dunk contest feel something like a fifth wheel for the weekend. Cheap caviar as a prelude to the Chateaubriand.

	“	It's fun. The fans want to come out and see guys do something exciting. It's (players') opinions if they don't want to participate in the dunk contest -- if they want the rest of they feel they want to rest some of those injuries -- but I feel well enough to go out and participate. Some people have different feelings, but for me, it's an honor. ”
		— Desmond Mason

"When I did it," Barry said, "I went and I won and why go back unless I could bookend it with the 3-point contest? It's kind of like the Mountain Dew 'Been there, done that' type of deal. My focus after going to All-Star weekend was I want to go back and play in the game on Sunday. That is when I want to go back to the All-Star game."

Phoenix's Shawn Marion, listed in Slam Magazine as the 44th best dunker of all-time, has never competed in the contest. He said he thinks the contest pigeonholes players as one-dimensional. Can you say Harold Miner?

"I do all my dunking in a game," Marion said. "In a way, I think guys don't want to be known as dunkers like that. Once you are known as a dunker you are always known as a dunker, and that's it. Guys want to be known as well-rounded players. All around. We can do it all. That's what everybody in this league works for. Play defense, rebound, score, handle the rock, whatever. An all-around player, not a player who can only do one or two things on the floor."

Actually, that's not a bad idea. Perhaps the NBA should create a contest where players compete for all-around skills. Combine the dunk contest with the 3-point shooting contest with a dribbling contest with a mid-range shooting contest and see who the most well-rounded player is. That might spice things up a bit.

Or, here's another idea to spice up the dunk contest: Invite back all former winners and have a sort of dunk contest reunion. Michael Jordan is back, so he's no problem. And once he is in it, everybody else would love to come out and beat him the way they are lining up now. Hell, even guys who can't dunk would like to get in that one. Perhaps that's the best weight-loss incentive plan for Shawn Kemp.

That would also include Mason, who is something of an anomaly because he is back defending his title, the first winner to try and repeat probably since David Thompson touched the top of the backboard.

"It's fun," Mason said. "The fans want to come out and see guys do something exciting. It's (players') opinions if they don't want to participate in the dunk contest -- if they want the rest of they feel they want to rest some of those injuries -- but I feel well enough to go out and participate. Some people have different feelings, but for me, it's an honor. If they don't want to, I will more than gladly take the spot. I just want to participate in All-Star weekend. As long as I am invited, I will be there."

And this summer, Mason plans on going to his five-year reunion.

Frank Hughes covers the NBA for the Tacoma (Wash.) News-Tribune. He is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.