The question of who truly belongs among the 100 greatest basketball players of all time is one that sparks endless debate in barbershops, sports bars, and online forums. I’ve spent more hours than I care to admit poring over stats, rewatching classic games, and arguing with fellow enthusiasts, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that this list is never static. It evolves with each generation, influenced by new metrics, shifting cultural values, and, frankly, personal bias. When I think about crafting my own list, I can’t help but recall a moment from a documentary where a seasoned coach, Epondulan, just laughed and said, “Pray.” That single word, delivered with a mix of irony and wisdom, encapsulates the near-religious fervor and the sheer subjectivity that often defines these rankings. It’s a reminder that beyond the cold, hard numbers, there’s an intangible element—a player’s heart, their impact on the game’s culture, their ability to make us believe in the impossible.
Let’s start with the undisputed legends, the players who occupy the top tier without any reasonable doubt. Michael Jordan, with his 6 NBA championships, 5 MVP awards, and that relentless competitive drive, is my automatic number one. I don’t think you can have a serious conversation about basketball’s Mount Olympus without him standing at the very peak. LeBron James is right there with him, a physical marvel whose longevity is simply staggering. To still be putting up 27 points, 8 rebounds, and 8 assists per game in his 21st season is something that defies all conventional logic. Then you have Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and his unstoppable skyhook, which contributed to his record 38,387 career points. These players form the bedrock of any credible list. But as you move down, the debates get fiercer. Where does someone like Stephen Curry belong? He revolutionized the game with the three-point shot, leading the Golden State Warriors to 4 championships and fundamentally changing how offense is played at every level. Before him, teams attempted around 18 threes per game; now, that number has skyrocketed to nearly 35. That’s a seismic shift, and for that alone, I believe he’s a lock for the top 20, maybe even higher.
Then there are the players whose legacies are more nuanced, wrapped in questions of “what if” and cultural impact. I’ve always had a soft spot for Allen Iverson. Sure, his efficiency numbers don’t always stack up against modern analytics—he shot just 42.5% from the field for his career—but his influence was monumental. He crossed up Michael Jordan, brought a hip-hop swagger to the league, and played every game as if it were his last. When Epondulan laughed and said, “Pray,” I thought of Iverson immediately. Defenders facing him on the crossover must have felt like they were sending up a prayer, hoping not to be embarrassed. He belongs on the list, not just for his stats, but for his soul. Similarly, international pioneers like Dirk Nowitzki, with his 2011 championship run that felt like a fairy tale, and Hakeem Olajuwon, whose footwork in the post remains the gold standard, have to be included. Olajuwon’s 1994 season, where he won MVP, Defensive Player of the Year, and Finals MVP, is a feat matched by only a handful in history.
But crafting this list also means making tough exclusions, and that’s where personal preference really comes into play. I’m a firm believer that dominance in a specific era matters more than compiling career totals. That’s why I’d take a prime Shaquille O’Neal—the most physically dominant force I’ve ever seen—over several players with longer, more consistent careers. When Shaq was with the Lakers, averaging 29.7 points and 13.6 rebounds during their three-peat, he was simply unguardable. On the flip side, I struggle with players like Russell Westbrook. His triple-double seasons are historic, no question, but do they translate to winning at the highest level? I’m not entirely convinced. And then there are the tragic figures, like Derrick Rose, the youngest MVP in league history at 22. His 2011 season was a blur of explosive athleticism, but injuries robbed him of his prime. Does he belong in the top 100? For that one glorious season, I’m tempted to say yes, because he captured the imagination of the basketball world in a way that few have.
As we consider more recent players, the criteria become even murkier. How do we evaluate someone like Nikola Jokić, a two-time MVP who has redefined the center position with his unparalleled passing vision? His playoff performances, including averaging 30 points, 13.5 rebounds, and 9.5 assists in a single postseason run, are video-game numbers. I’d slot him in already, and I think history will be very kind to him. But then you have a player like Kyrie Irving, whose handle and finishing around the rim are pure artistry. He hit one of the biggest shots in NBA history, the Game 7 three-pointer in the 2016 Finals. Yet, his overall impact on team success outside of that LeBron-led Cavaliers squad is debatable. This is where the “Pray” mentality really hits home. You look at his highlights, the sheer beauty of his game, and you almost have to pray that the numbers and the wins align with the talent.
In the end, any list of the 100 greatest players is a deeply personal document, a reflection of what we value in the sport. Is it scoring titles? Defensive prowess? Cultural resonance? For me, it’s a blend of all these things, weighted toward those moments of transcendent brilliance that make you leap off your couch. The players I’ve mentioned, from Jordan to Jokić, have all provided those moments. They’ve made us believe in something beyond the stat sheet. So, when someone asks me who truly belongs, I think of Epondulan’s laugh. It’s not about finding a perfect, objective answer. It’s about acknowledging the passion, the debates, and the sheer joy that these athletes have given us. My list will have its quirks and its biases, just like anyone else’s, and that’s exactly what makes this exercise so compelling. After all, if we all agreed, basketball wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.