Give Cade Cunningham His MVP Already

I’ve always been a sucker for great point guards—going all the way back to John Stockton, to Tony Parker.

That’s why what Cade Cunningham is doing this season stands out.

Cunningham isn’t just putting up numbers—he’s driving an offense that has completely flipped the identity of the Detroit Pistons. This is a team that won 31 games combined across two seasons not long ago. Now, they’re in the playoff picture, with a real identity and direction under J. B. Bickerstaff.

And that doesn’t happen without Cade.

Yes, Jalen Duren has taken a leap. Yes, the roster is better. But strip it all down—who’s creating the offense? Who’s controlling tempo? Who’s responsible for making everything function?

It’s Cunningham.

We can talk stats—and we should. Around 10 assists per game, solid rebounding from the guard spot, efficient scoring, and a 7.1 estimated wins added (EWA). On paper, that trails players like Nikola Jokić, Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, and Victor Wembanyama.

But MVP has never just been about numbers.

It’s about responsibility.

Cunningham carries an offensive burden that few players in the league can match. Every possession runs through him. Every defensive adjustment is designed to stop him. And despite that, Detroit isn’t just surviving—they’re relevant.

That’s value.

Did Cunningham singlehandedly turn the Pistons into a contender? No. But no MVP ever truly does it alone. What separates him is how much of Detroit’s success is directly tied to his presence.

Remove other MVP candidates from their teams, and those teams still have structure. Remove Cunningham, and the Pistons fall apart.

That’s the difference.

We can quantify wins added. We can compare efficiency. But there’s a layer of value that doesn’t show up in metrics—the ability to change a franchise’s trajectory, to turn dysfunction into belief.

Cade Cunningham has done that.

And those are the wins that matter most.

The Case Against Cade Cunningham

Is Cade Cunningham the best player in the league?

No.

And for all he brings to the Detroit Pistons, that reality matters in an MVP race.

Start with the turnovers. Cunningham’s usage is undeniably high, and with that comes mistakes—but nearly five turnovers per game is more than a minor flaw. When those turnovers approach half his assist total, they become a real inefficiency, not just a byproduct of responsibility.

There’s also the question of how indispensable he truly is. Since Cunningham went down with a punctured lung, Detroit has continued to win, going 8–2 in that stretch and 11–3 overall in games he hasn’t played. That speaks to the adaptability of J. B. Bickerstaff and the emergence of Jalen Duren as a dominant interior presence.

This isn’t a one-man operation. The Pistons have built a system—gritty, physical, and capable of generating wins even without their primary creator.

And then there’s the competition.

Cunningham played at an All-NBA level—but this year’s MVP race wasn’t about All-NBA. It was about surpassing generational production. Players like Nikola Jokić continue to redefine efficiency and playmaking, Shai Gilgeous-Alexander has paired elite scoring with team success, and Victor Wembanyama has rapidly emerged as one of the most impactful two-way players in the league.

Cunningham was great. His competition was historically better.

And in a league where the bar for MVP keeps rising, “great” doesn’t always get you there.

There’s also an unfortunate reality: timing. With the league’s talent pool only getting deeper, opportunities like this don’t come often. A season derailed, even partially, by injury can close the window just as quickly as it opens.

End Of My Cade Cunningham Rant

If it were up to me, Cunningham would be the clear favorite to win MVP on narrative alone. Unfortunately, in the grand scheme of things, my opinion doesn’t count for much in the NBA circle.

Scrap the 65-game rule, NBA. Do it, you cowards. DO IT!