I don't want to harp on this too much, but Squidward is never punished for doubting his friend. Squidward never even says, "Oh, you're right, that IS Blake; I'm sorry for dismissing you so rudely." Nothing. This could have been a teachable moment about hubris, and Nike let it slip away.

Instead, Blake does some rad moves, the skeptics are swayed, and we transition into the meat of the commercial, where a professional basketball player faces off against a faceless, tiny space monster in a slam-dunk contest. Squidward barely even checked to confirm if the basketball player was Blake Griffin; he had already decided that his friend Red Shirt was wrong, sight unseen. This speaks volumes about the toxicity of their friendship. I imagine that this isn't the first time Squidward's instincts drew him toward thinking Red Shirt was instantly wrong, and you can't have that in a friendship. You want your friends to support you. If Red Shirt is as good at evaluating his own self-worth as he is at identifying who in a given crowd might be Blake Griffin (which, based on the limited information with which we are presented, we have to assume is "very"), then he should exit this friendship and hook up with some people whose knee-jerk reactions don't involve putting him down.

Nike
"I think that's Blake Griffin."
"Saying stuff like that is why your dad's an alcoholic."

But back to the matter at hand and the reason you all called me here. This ad doesn't make any sense, because it starts off with two very problematic and canonically inconsistent assumptions: 1) Marvin The Martian is angry at Blake Griffin and by extension all human basketball-playing adults, and 2) Marvin The Martian is a top-notch dunker. THIS IS AN ISSUE. To understand why it's an issue, you need to understand Space Jam, a movie that pits the Monstars (a misguided alien race) against the Looney Tunes (and Michael Jordan) in a basketball contest. There is historical precedent, I'm saying, in the category of Looney Tune vs. Human High-Stakes Basketball. An important precedent that this commercial ignores. The most important thing to remember about Space Jam (as it pertains to this commercial) is that Marvin The Martian DID NOT PLAY. He was the referee.

Warner Bros.

This takes us to the problem(s). if Marvin is such a good basketball player, why wouldn't the Looney Tunes have drafted him in Space Jam? OR, if Marvin hated Earth-based basketball superstars so much, why wouldn't he work with the Monstars in Space Jam? Answering both of my own questions, it's because he's both a Looney Tune AND an alien, which explains why he was able to remain a fair and impartial referee in Space Jam; he has ties to both worlds and an equal-sized dog in both fights. Marvin The Martian would not choose a side according to the established Looney Tune continuum.

Warner Bros.
He's even letting Bugs go full Sprewell on Daffy without ejecting him.

This commercial was not made in a vacuum; it knows Space Jam exists and in fact trades on the goodwill established by that movie with a number of winks and nods to it throughout the commercial. It knows you liked Space Jam and it hopes that its tenuous relationship to this commercial will make you buy the product. If that thing I just said is true (and we have to assume it is), then why would the people behind this ad completely ignore the Marvin The Martian precedent set in Space Jam, a phenomenal family film that came out before 9/11?

I say this as a person who attended a midnight screening of Space Jam literally a week ago: I am upset. On the subject of respecting those that came before it (and paying attention to your own established continuity), this advertisement for shoes disappoints.

Before we get into the answer, I want to give you a bit of backstory about me for context. From 2002 to 2004, I sold shoes professionally at a Sports Authority in New Jersey. My boss' name was Ken, I got a number of my friends jobs there, our store code was 832, and it was fine. I threw myself into the shoe-selling job as I've thrown myself into every job since. Five days a week for two years, I spoke eloquently about which shoe was right for which person. Want to talk about Pronation? Supination? I'm your guy. If you came in looking for a simple cross-training shoe, I'd have you leave the store in some expensive New Balance 991s with some (bullshit) water-proofing spray for your troubles, because I was that convincing. I was sort of a shoe shark in that way.

"Hey, Brian, we got these in sevens? Brian? BRIAN! I swear if you're back there,
texting your GODDAMN girlfriend again-"

I bring this up as a way of establishing my shoe credentials, which I think you'll agree are at this point unimpeachable. And once we both agree that I am a (sport) authority on shoes, I hope you'll take the following statement with the appropriate weight; I would not buy the shoes advertised in this commercial. Is this an effective ad? This shoe-selling, voting American says no! I would not buy these shoes, not even from Bugs Bunny and not even from a van.