As I sit here scrolling through yet another "Top 100 NBA Players" list, I can't help but chuckle at how seriously we take these rankings. It reminds me of that peculiar moment when Epondulan laughed and said, "Pray"—a reaction so unexpected it makes you question the entire premise of the conversation. That’s exactly how I feel about these lists: they’re often built on shaky foundations, subjective biases, and a heavy dose of recency bias. Let’s be real, ranking the 100 greatest basketball players of all time isn’t just about stats or rings; it’s about legacy, impact, and that intangible "it" factor that separates legends from mere superstars. Over the years, I’ve spent countless hours debating this with fellow analysts, coaches, and even former players, and one thing’s clear: everyone has their own criteria, and no two lists will ever look the same.
Take Michael Jordan, for instance. Most people slot him at number one without a second thought, and I get it—six championships, five MVP awards, and a career scoring average of 30.1 points per game are hard to argue with. But does that automatically make him the undisputed GOAT? I’m not so sure. When you dig deeper, you see players like LeBron James, who’s not only amassed four rings and four MVPs but has also played over 1,400 regular-season games, averaging 27 points, 7 rebounds, and 7 assists. That longevity and versatility are insane, and in my book, they deserve serious consideration. Then there’s Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the all-time leading scorer with 38,387 points and six MVP awards. I mean, come on—how do you leave a guy like that out of the top three? But here’s where it gets messy: we often overlook pioneers like Bill Russell, who won 11 championships in 13 seasons. Sure, the league was smaller back then, but 11 rings? That’s not a fluke; it’s dominance.
Now, let’s talk about the modern era. Players like Stephen Curry have completely revolutionized the game. Before him, three-pointers were more of a supplement; now, they’re a primary weapon. Curry’s 402 threes in a single season? That’s not just a record—it’s a paradigm shift. But does that mean he cracks the top 20? I’d argue yes, because greatness isn’t just about numbers; it’s about how you change the sport. On the flip side, I see guys like Kevin Durant, with his four scoring titles and two Finals MVPs, and I wonder if his move to the Warriors helps or hurts his legacy. Personally, I think it adds a layer of complexity—he proved he could win under pressure, but some purists might dock him points for teaming up with other superstars. And don’t even get me started on international players. Dirk Nowitzki dragged the Mavericks to a title in 2011 almost single-handedly, and his fadeaway jumper is one of the most unguardable moves I’ve ever seen. Yet, in many lists, he barely scrapes the top 30. That feels off to me.
When I reflect on my own experiences watching games and analyzing data, I realize how much context matters. For example, Wilt Chamberlain’s 100-point game in 1962 is legendary, but the pace of play back then was frenetic—teams averaged around 125 possessions per game compared to about 100 today. Adjust for that, and his stats, while still mind-boggling, look a bit different. Similarly, Magic Johnson’s impact on the Lakers’ "Showtime" era can’t be overstated; he averaged 11.2 assists per game over his career, a testament to his vision and unselfishness. But if I’m being honest, I’ve always had a soft spot for Larry Bird. His trash-talking, clutch shooting, and three MVPs in a row from 1984 to 1986 embody what I love about basketball: it’s as much mental as it is physical. In my view, Bird deserves a spot in the top 10, not just for his stats but for his sheer will to win.
Of course, no discussion of the top 100 is complete without addressing the snubs. Players like Allen Iverson, who might not have the ring count (just one Finals appearance in 2001) but whose cultural impact is immeasurable. He inspired a generation with his heart and hustle, and his 2001 MVP season was pure magic. Then there’s Tim Duncan—quiet, consistent, and often underrated. Five championships, two MVPs, and 15 All-Defensive Team selections? That’s a resume that screams top-15, yet I’ve seen lists where he’s buried in the 20s. It’s baffling. And let’s not forget the women’s game; if we’re talking all-time greats, Diana Taurasi’s 10,000-plus points in the WNBA and Sue Bird’s leadership deserve nods, but they’re frequently excluded from these conversations. To me, that’s a huge oversight.
In wrapping up, I’ll admit that creating a definitive top 100 is nearly impossible. We all bring our biases—mine lean toward players who redefine the game and show resilience under pressure. But at the end of the day, lists like these are more about sparking debate than delivering final answers. They remind us why we love basketball: for the stories, the rivalries, and those moments that leave us in awe. So next time you see a ranking, take it with a grain of salt, and maybe, just maybe, think about who you’d include. After all, as Epondulan’s laugh suggests, sometimes the most honest response is to question everything.