Jerry Colangelo is quiet, but confident. He’s reserved, but assured. He has faith—faith that his coach is the right one, faith that his roster is the right one, and faith that all things for his team will fall into place as they should.

Jerry Colangelo quietly, confidently, reservedly, assuredly believes that United States basketball was, is, and forever ought to be the world’s titan, and any results over time to the contrary are aberrations. There is an objective—a mission—and as Colangelo said himself, “ultimately that results in that goal of winning a gold medal.” No more eleventh-hour preparation; no more disjointed play; no more failure to meet expectations.

But at these Olympic Games, there’s a pursuit parallel to the journey toward gold. This is about more than the restoration of a champion, but the restoration of intimidation. Colangelo calls it respect—“We want people to respect us,” he said—but we know better. This is basketball, and as we have observed in the past, fairly or not, American basketball on the world stage should not just win, but dominate. It should incite awe, fear, or both in the opposition. Maybe those words are the words of a cheerleader, but tell me Kobe thinks differently. Tell me Chris Paul won’t try to setup every teammate for every dunk known to man every game. Tell me LeBron doesn’t anticipate creating a score each and every time he touches the ball. Tell me this team doesn’t expect to do everything as it is capable of doing. If that capability is realized, there is a 100% chance the United States wins the gold medal. If that capability is realized, the United States should dominate.

But considering today’s landscape, what is it to dominate? Indisputably, the world has exponentially improved its quality of play over the last two decades. Consider:

• There were a total of 50 “true” foreigners—“true” being those who did not play college ball in the U.S.—on NBA rosters to start the ’07-’08 season, not to mention a host of others on D-League squads. In the 1980s, when the modern influx of international talent to the league began, foreign prospects such as Hakeem Olajuwon and Detlef Schrempf were brought up via D-I hoops. The San Antonio Spurs have proved such American training is not necessary.
• The recent exodus of Josh Childress and Brandon Jennings signal something interesting and new: the world game has money and talent (Why else would those two players, respectively, hop across the pond?).
• In 1992, the Dream Team thrashed Spain by 41. In 2008, the Spanish feature Marc Gasol and Juan Carlos Navarro of the Grizzlies; José Calderón and Jorge Garbajosa (the latter formerly) of the Raptors; Rudy Fernández of the Blazers; and Pau Gasol of the Lakers. Four of the six were drafted into the NBA, and although Calderon and Garbajosa did not receive that honor, their careers have not advanced without notice—the former led the NBA in assist-to-turnover ratio last year (5.38:1) and the latter was named “Mister Europa 2006,” succeeding Dirk Nowitzki (2005) and countryman Gasol (2004). The United States will not beat Spain by 41 this year.

Yes, 50 NBA players roughly comprise only 10% of the league; Josh Childress and Brandon Jennings aren’t Kevin Garnett and Deron Williams; and Spain is just one national squad among many. But these examples hold weight. Mike Krzyzewski was entirely correct in saying “[the U.S. has] been very arrogant about the game” in recent years. However, he was entirely wrong in saying basketball “is the world’s game.”

Basketball is still our game.

We produce by far the best players. We produce by far the best competition. We produce by far the best product. Other nations have quality leagues, to be sure, but no one is saying MLS and the Barclay’s Premier League are on equal footing, are they? The gap between American basketball and world basketball has absolutely shrunk a great deal. The influence of international talent on our domestic league has been felt greatly. But lineup the likes of Paul, Kobe, Anthony, LeBron, and Howard against any five any nation in the world could throw at them and tell me the Stars and Stripes shouldn’t win by at least fifteen points. With the attitude that expired four years ago, that may not have been the case, because Paul, Kobe, Anthony, LeBron, and Howard may have meshed like Elizabeth Hasselbeck meshes with The View. But there’s a new attitude. It’s quiet, but confident. It’s reserved, but assured. It’s about preparation, cohesion, and achievement.

It’s the new United States basketball. And it’s the way it should have been all along.