2014 Anger General Greatest of All Time: #3 selection

[Deez]

I think this will be a run away for #3.

[Master Spade]

Kareem

[FPL]

Wilt

[Havlicekstealsit]

I choose Kareem.

Edit: Just to clarify, I'm referring to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, not Kareem Rush. Sorry if I confused anyone.

Remember the Miami Dolphins Karim Abdul-Jabbar? Guess he got sued to change his name.

[elmouse03]

I choose Kareem.

Edit: Just to clarify, I'm referring to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, not Kareem Rush. Sorry if I confused anyone.

Remember the Miami Dolphins Karim Abdul-Jabbar? Guess he got sued to change his name.

I believe that guy was the best running back that Marino had in his time there.

[gaskill15]

Lewcifer

[Shill Jackson]

1. KAJ
2. Magic
3. Russell

[Ghostown42]

1. KAJ
2. Magic
3. Russell

So, I guess your vote is KAJ this round?

[Ghostown42]

I choose Kareem.

Edit: Just to clarify, I'm referring to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, not Kareem Rush. Sorry if I confused anyone.

Remember the Miami Dolphins Karim Abdul-Jabbar? Guess he got sued to change his name.

Yes, I do remember that, now that you bring it up.

[Shill Jackson]

1. KAJ
2. Magic
3. Russell

So, I guess your vote is KAJ this round?

no, I'm keeping track of all my votes

[elmouse03]

1. KAJ
2. Magic
3. Russell

So, I guess your vote is KAJ this round?

no, I'm keeping track of all my votes

Why didn't I do that?

[gaskill15]

1. KAJ
2. Magic
3. Russell

So, I guess your vote is KAJ this round?

no, I'm keeping track of all my votes

Soooooooo...............

[vcsgrizzfan]

1. KAJ
2. Magic
3. Russell

So, I guess your vote is KAJ this round?

no, I'm keeping track of all my votes

That would make your vote a spoiled ballot.

[LNS]

Lets just give it to KAJ and move on. 1-3 is pretty dead set either way.

[Y2K]

Lets just give it to KAJ and move on. 1-3 is pretty dead set either way.

You could be right. I'll give it until tomorrow afternoon to see if the gap closes. If not, then I'll end the vote a day early.

Btw, next round several more players will be added to the list of candidates.

[Y2K]

Wilt

Why over Kareem? I also chose Wilt.

[dwcmwa]

Kareem

[FPL]

Wilt

Why over Kareem? I also chose Wilt.

Rebounding and defense mostly. Wilt was lazy on that end in 62 and 63, but was a monster rim protector every other season.

I'm not in love with his fadeaway or finger roll. Both are inefficient shots, especially since he released the shot on the fade after the apex, so it didn't get the same height on it. The finger roll is fine in transition, but asinine when posting up...a reverse layup or dunk is much safer.

I know he wanted to prove he could out-finesse his opponents to break the stereotype, but this is a man who was playing at 300 pounds from 63-64 on, so if you're gonna put on that much muscle, don't take low percentage shots.

Kareem here is fine too, super mobile when he played for the Bucks, maybe the GOAT scoring big man. I think he and Wilt are both weak GOAT candidate (with MJ and Russ being the two guys with strong cases). After the top four it's wide open IMO. Bird is a great pick but only gives you mine years before injuries cause him to break down. I'll probably go with Shaq or Hakeem at 5.

[americaninfidel]

Seems a pretty clear win for Kareem. Probably could move on to #4.

[FPL]

Seems a pretty clear win for Kareem. Probably could move on to #4.

Pretty likely.

Just for fun, here are a couple quotes from Kareem on Wilt:

That year I played with a legend and against one. I finally got to go up against Wilt for real. (As with the Babe, Willie, Duke and Oscar, for the greats one name will do.) He had injured his knee and was out my rookie year, but he was very much a presence my second time through.

Wilt he’d his position in the pro basketball hierarchy with total seriousness. He fought for it the way he went for rebounds, with strength and intimidation. It was his only identity. Finally out from under Russell’s shadow, or at least no longer having to read the comparisons in every column and box score, he could have done without my interference. It would have been pleasant for him to rule the roost for a few years before some new young guy knocked him out of the box. And why did it have to be me, the kid he’d taken under his wing? After all, I was the boy he’d loaned his records to, to whom he’d shown the ropes. How could I possibly be threatening to take his place at the top? It took a special will to turn me into the demon threat to his kingdom who had to be defeated. But when the stakes are as high as identity itself, it’s amazing what the mind can do.

Wilt had a lot to complain about because, from the start, he couldn’t control me. Wilt’s entire game was built on strength. He controlled the land. (In fact, it was because of his dominance that the rules committee widened it by four feet the same way college ball outlawed dunking for me.) He had great timing and excellent spring, and he would routinely reject opponents’ shots, either stuffing them while still in the guys’ hands or batting them out of the air after they’d been launched. He was very big and very strong, and he would position himself underneath, and you could forget about coming near him. Nobody could move Wilt out of the pivot, and he was ferocious off the boards. (Over the course of his career he grabbed 2,200 more rebounds than Bill Russell and about 8,00 more than I have.) He was the dominant guy in there, with a personality to match.

Wilt has a place of special honor in the history of basketball. He personally made the game progress, brought the big man from clod to controlling factor. If it weren’t for Wilt, people wouldn’t believe some things were possible-one hundred points by one man in a single game, a fifty-point-per-game average. He led the league in scoring seven times and was the only center ever to lead the NBA in assists.

Wilt was not perfect, however. He wasn’t the best competitor; he didn’t have the most savvy as far as how to make his team win. Russell seemed to get the more crucial rebounds, and though Wilt won all the scoring titles, Russell came away with eleven championship rings to Wilt’s two. (Admittedly, Russell was playing with a superior team around him.) More importantly to me, Wilt was stationary and I was mobile, and I found out fast that he could not handle me on offense. I was eleven years younger than he was, and quicker to begin with. I found my first time down the floor against him that if I let him stand in the pivot and didn’t move before I got the ball, he would destroy me. The next time down, however, I saw that if I got even a little movement, I could either fake him left and go the other way with all the time in the world for a hook, or fake the hook, get him up in the air and drive the other way for a stuff.

Early on, he didn’t play me tough, figuring, I guess, that I was just a kid and he could intimidate me with the backboard growl. When that didn’t work he tried his usual bag of tricks that had woken on a generation of NBA centers. He’d go for my hands, but find himself a split-second too late, the shot was gone. He’d lay back and try for the in-flight rejection, but I’d get up too high and shoot it over him. That’s when it got to be fun. You could see him getting frustrated as m shots kept falling. He would coil and make this tremendous jump, his arms extended like a crane, but I had gauged i, knew exactly how high his outstretched fingers could reach, and put the ball just over them. He’d grunt, and it would drop for two.

I worked on a special trajectory shot just for Wilt, I’d start right under the basket, then lean away for a tiny bit, and put the ball at the top of the backboard. Wilt would go after it every time. He was determined. It would go past his reach, and I’d know from his body language he’d be thinking, “That’s not going in, it’s up to high.” The ball would squeak against the top of the backboard above the rim and fall right through. Frustrated the hell out of him.

At first, when he would back off me I’d sink the hooks from eight to ten feet. Made it seem like he wasn’t playing defense. He hated that. Then the coaches tried to have him muscle me, get all on my back. For a game or two he was reaching up under my armpit and knocking me off balance or batting the ball from my hands. The referees pretty much let this go, and it was fairly successful until I found a countermove. When he threw his arm under my armpit, I’d clamp down on it with my bicep and pin it to my side, then I’d go up to the hoop with him. If he pulled out, it was a foul. If he didn’t, i would hold him there while I shot my shot. If he yanked it out while I was shooting, I got my three points. It made him crazy. Jerry West, at the time his teammate on the Lakers and later my coach, told me Wilt would yell at his teammates and complain that they weren’t helping him guard me. Jerry says this was the only time he’d ever seen Wilt break down and ask for help.

I never took Wilt for granted, however. You can’t ever say that Wilt didn’t give his best, or that his best wasn’t superlative. Wilt was one of the great centers to play the game, and the next three years we had a very fierce competition. In the years since, he has said I played extra hard against him, as if I had something to prove. He is right; I did play extra hard against him-if I hadn’t, he would have dominated me, embarrassed me in front of the league, and undermined my whole game and career. I’d seen him play too long to think I could just go out there and play and not be overwhelmed. Wilt determined my best, and I gave it to him with a vengeance. I was definitely aware that I was posting up with the man against whom all the comparisons would be made. (In airplanes and subways, on movie lines or in the street all big black guys were asked not “Are you Bill Russell?” but, “Are you Wilt?”) He was the standard, and because part of his game was intimidation, I had to work especially hard to overcome him.

I think, though, that Wilt feels that beyond playing hard I tried to embarrass him, somehow to build my reputation at his expense, pull him down from his greatness. Make him look small. Wilt’s only identity was basketball; it was what made him a man, and he must have seen me-young, full of the future, capable in areas where he’d never been-as a very deep threat. And sometimes, on the court, I did embarrass him, though never intentionally. Toward the end of his career, when he was thirty-six and I was twenty-five, I had it any way I wanted. The Bucks would play his Lakers at the Forum, I’d be getting fifty points against him; he’d try the fadeaway, but I’d be there to block it, and he’d storm out to half-court. With his career, and to Wilt that pretty much meant his life, being closed in his face, he must have taken the defeat to heart. I definitely meant to beat him-I play to win at all times-but never to show him up. From Mr. Donohue on, my coaches had been emphatic about not hot-dogging, and I agreed fully. I try for the victory, and while I’m achieving that I don’t try to make anybody feel bad. I’d looked bad for my first fourteen years, and while that might have led some people to inflict it on others, I knew what it felt like and wouldn’t dish it out frivolously. Certainly not to a man as important to me as Wilt.

I’m still glad I kicked his ass on the court, and I would have been perfectly pleased to have gone up against him in his prime. In 1971, my second year in the league and my first game against him, he was still playing great. We beat the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals, but after the last game, in Milwaukee, the fans gave him a standing ovation for his performance.

and from Wilt on Kareem:

All the armchair experts had their own theories about my return, of course. Some of them said I was jealous that the Lakers were playing so well without me. Others said Elgin Baylor had returned to form in my absence, and that I didn’t like the idea of him getting all that attention. Some people even said I couldn’t wait to get back on the floor so I could show everyone I was still better than Kareem, despite the great rookie year he was having. I suppose there might be a little truth in all those theories—but not much. The Lakers weren’t all that well without me; they were in second place in a weak division, with a 44-35 record, as compared with a first-place finish and a 55-27 record the previous year. Elgin may have been playing better without me in the lineup, but you sure couldn’t prove it from looking at the statistics; both his scoring and his rebounding averages were down slightly from the previous year. As for Kareem, well, I’d spent ten years having everyone pit me against Bill Russell all the time; I wasn’t about to start all over with Kareem. I figured I’d do my thing, and he could do his thing, and I wasn’t going to worry about who everyone said was better or more valuable.

Obviously, I didn’t beat New York all by myself. Far from it. We had set records as a team all year, and we won the championship as a team that night. Gail Goodrich, who had eaten Earl Monroe alive at both ends of the court in every game, got 25 points and held Monroe to a miserable 4 for 15 from the floor. McMillian got 20 points. Happy got 14 rebounds. Even Jerry—who again hit only 10 of 28 shots and wound up with a dismal 32 percent from the floor for the *entire* series—scored 23 points and had nine assists in the championship game.

But defense had been the key to our success all season—particularly in the playoffs, against Milwaukee and New York—and even though I was pleased to have won the MVP award in the playoffs, I have to admit I was a little surprised that I didn’t also win it for the regular season. During all those years I was outscoring Bill Russell like crazy, he often won the MVP because people said defense was more important than scoring, and he was the defensive genius. But in 1972, I was the defensive genius and Kareem was the big scorer. In effect, I was Russell, and Kareem was me. So who won the MVP? Kareem. Suddenly, defense wasn’t all-important.

Bill Sharman got most of the credit for “transforming” me into a great defensive player—especially after I played Kareem in the Wester Division championships.

But it wasn’t quite that simple.

I had experience and strength going for me against Kareem. I also had an intangible—the gut-it-out toughness I’d picked up playing schoolyard ball as a kid. Kareem had never done that, and it’s hurt his game—as great as he is.

Joe Mullaney was probably more responsible for my success against Kareeem than anyone, though. I’d always been a good defensive player—it just wasn’t noticed until I stopped scoring—but it was Joe who first talked to me about really stressing defense. And it was Joe who showed me how to play Kareem and force him to take shots out of position.

Maybe take both with a grain of salt, since the guys weren't on very good terms at the time (Wilt's quotes from 73, Kareem's from the early 80s...the two didn't really make up until Kareem broke the scoring record).

Pretty cool video BTW:

[youtube]L2U4JSrpO78[/youtube]