The debate over who deserves the title of the best handler in NBA history is one that never truly fades from basketball conversations. As someone who has spent years analyzing the game, both as a fan and a professional observer, I’ve come to appreciate that ball handling isn’t just about flashy crossovers or ankle-breaking moves—it’s about control, vision, and elevating your team when it matters most. When I think about legendary handlers, names like Magic Johnson, Stephen Curry, and Kyrie Irving immediately spring to mind, but the discussion runs deeper than individual highlights. It’s fascinating how the role of a handler has evolved over the decades, from the playmaking genius of Magic in the ’80s to the revolutionary shooting-handling combo we see in Curry today. Each era brought its own standards, and honestly, I lean toward players who not only dominate statistically but also make everyone around them better.
This season’s revelation in Bedonia, as highlighted in recent reports, offers a compelling parallel. The league’s second-best server, who has also stepped up as a clutch attacker, reminds me of those NBA greats who excel under pressure. Ricafort’s comment that “the young guns are also helpful, especially during training, in raising the level of competition within the team” resonates deeply with me. I’ve seen firsthand how young talent pushes veterans to refine their skills—it’s that competitive fire that separates good handlers from the all-time greats. In the NBA, think about how Isaiah Thomas, despite his 5’9” frame, averaged nearly 29 points and 6 assists per game in his prime, or how Chris Paul, even at 36, continues to post elite assist-to-turnover ratios. These players don’t just handle the ball; they command the game, much like that standout in Bedonia who delivers when it counts. From my perspective, consistency is key. Magic Johnson, for instance, racked up over 10,000 assists in his career, a staggering number that underscores his longevity and impact. But it’s not just about stats—it’s the intangibles, like leadership and adaptability, that make a handler truly exceptional.
I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for handlers who redefine the position. Stephen Curry, for example, didn’t just shoot threes; he forced defenses to respect his handles from 30 feet out, changing how teams defend the pick-and-roll entirely. In the 2015-16 season, he averaged 30.1 points and 6.7 assists while shooting over 45% from three-point range—numbers that still blow my mind. Yet, when I weigh in on the “best ever” debate, I can’t ignore the old-school brilliance of players like John Stockton, who holds the NBA record for steals and assists. Stockton wasn’t as flashy as Kyrie Irving, but his efficiency was off the charts; he averaged 13.1 assists per game in the 1990-91 season, a feat that modern analytics would laud as historically efficient. On the other hand, Irving’s handles are pure artistry—I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve rewatched his 2016 Finals game-winner against the Warriors. It’s moments like those that make me appreciate the subjective side of this argument. Sure, data points matter, but so does the “wow” factor that gets fans out of their seats.
Another angle that often gets overlooked is how handling impacts team dynamics, much like the Bedonia example where young players elevate competition. In the NBA, a great handler can transform an average squad into a playoff contender. Take Steve Nash’s Phoenix Suns—they averaged over 110 points per game in the mid-2000s, largely because Nash’s playmaking created open looks for everyone. I remember watching those teams and thinking how his unselfishness, combined with a 50-40-90 shooting split, made him a nightmare for opponents. But here’s where I might stir the pot: I think LeBron James deserves more credit as a handler. Though he’s often labeled a forward, his court vision and passing are handler-level elite—he’s averaged over 7 assists per game for his entire career, peaking at 10.2 in the 2019-20 season. That versatility, to me, is what separates the good from the legendary. It’s not just about dribbling; it’s about making the right read under duress, something that Bedonia’s clutch performer seems to embody.
Wrapping this up, I believe the title of best handler in NBA history isn’t a one-size-fits-all award. It depends on what you value—statistical dominance, innovation, or clutch performances. For me, Magic Johnson edges it out because of his unparalleled ability to blend size, skill, and showmanship, but I’ll always have respect for the Currys and Irvings who keep pushing the envelope. As the game evolves, so will this debate, and that’s what makes basketball so endlessly engaging. Whether it’s on the courts of the NBA or in leagues like Bedonia, the essence remains: great handlers don’t just play the game; they elevate it for everyone.