With the Celtics deservedly out of the NBA playoffs, I would normally banish pro basketball from my consciousness until next October. But instead, I’ve been captivated by a young (22) French star who proves it’s possible to be a fierce competitor on the court and a level-headed gentleman off it; that he can somehow appear graceful and coordinated in running, pivoting, and jumping off size 20 feet; and the truth of the old-time coach’s maxim, “You can’t teach [someone to be] 7 feet (7’4” in his case)” but it’s possible for someone that size to learn fundamental basketball, including footwork, positioning, and shooting form.
A bit of my fascination relates to the possibility that Victor Wembanyama (Wemby) might expand the possibilities for the personalities of athletic superstars in a similar way to Bill Bradley (former senator and presidential candidate, member of the 1973 Knicks championship team) and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (who shed a naturally shy personality as Lew Alcindor to eloquently define his views and expectations in the Civil Rights movement and other social causes).
Wemby caught my eye by inviting New York fans to play chess with him in December 2024 and enjoyed it so much he suggested an all-NBA chess tournament to raise money for charities. (No word recently on that development.)
Watching multiple driving players rethink a shot because Wemby was waiting sparked vivid memories. (Of course, at my age, nearly everything sparks memories.) Wilt Chamberlain stood out on the court as much as Wemby does, an absurdly talented athlete who also happened to be bigger (7’1”) and stronger (a muscular 250 lbs.) than most other players of the era.
Before he played a college game, the NCAA changed the rules for free throw shooters to prevent Wilt from launching himself for a dunk on a free throw. They also barred an in-bounds pass over the backboard for a Chamberlain dunk.
I think it’s unfair to compare players from different eras, but Wilt dominated the game like no other star with the possible exception of Michael Jordan. Both were possibly the best offensive player and best defensive player in the league at the same time.
I didn’t actually “see” Wilt play many games because TV offered one NBA game per week, so fans relied on sports writers to describe the indescribable. Sports Illustrated named Wilt a candidate for best athlete of the century, noting his college track and field achievements: running the 100 yard dash in 10.9 seconds (the world record was 9.3), winning the high jump at 6’6” and higher; and throwing the 16 lb. shot put over 55 feet.
They also declared him among the strongest men alive, bench pressing well over 500 lbs. He strictly controlled his temper because he was “scared” of the damage he might cause if he lost it.
At one point, he held 72 individual NBA records, many mind-boggling for modern fans: averaging 50.4 points per game for a season; scoring 100 in a single game. He is also the only center to lead the league in assists (1,968) after he tired of criticism that he was a selfish player after he won the scoring title seven straight years.
We won’t know how Wemby stacks up against Wilt and other legends for many years, but one statistic stands out in illustrating the changing expectations for modern stars. The Spurs, looking to protect against injury before they invest in a probable $250 million contract, carefully managed the minutes Wemby played, averaging about 29 per game for the season. He appeared to tire in the 4th quarter of several Finals games, making multiple mental and physical mistakes when it mattered most.
Wilt, on the other hand, was “never tired,” according to a teammate. In 1962 he averaged over 48 minutes per game (a standard game is 48 minutes) because he played every minute of several overtime games, and only missed playing eight minutes that season when he was thrown out in one 4th quarter.
It’s a marvel when rare physical attributes are matched with both discipline and a strong desire to improve. The athletes of today start early and often specialize in a single sport, yielding generations of players with skills not even imagined by previous ones.
Bob Cousy was considered a wizard because he could dribble behind his back; today, it’s expected of every dribbler. I’ve got quarrels with many, many aspects of modern sports, but the skills and discipline of the best modern athletes are simply a joy to watch.
Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com.