When it comes to debating the greatest basketball players of all time, I’ve always felt that statistics alone can’t capture the full picture. Sure, points, rebounds, and championships matter—but so does impact, leadership, and that intangible quality of making everyone around you better. Over the years, I’ve watched countless games, studied player legacies, and even coached at the amateur level, which has given me a perspective that blends cold, hard stats with gut feeling. And if I’m being honest, my list of the best ever leans toward players who transformed the game itself, not just those who racked up numbers.
Take Michael Jordan, for example. For me, he’s the undisputed number one—and I say that not just because of his six championships or five MVP awards, but because of his killer instinct. I remember watching "The Shot" against Cleveland in ’89 and thinking, "No one else does that." He averaged 30.1 points per game over his career, but it was his will to win that separated him. Right beside him, I’d place LeBron James. LeBron’s longevity is insane; he’s been elite for nearly two decades. I’ve followed his career since he entered the league, and his basketball IQ and ability to carry teams—like the 2016 Cavaliers—to championships against all odds cement his spot. Then there’s Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. His skyhook was unstoppable, and his 38,387 points remain the NBA’s all-time record. I’ve always admired how he dominated in different eras, from the 1970s to the ’80s.
But let’s not forget the international and team-centric players who often fly under the radar in these discussions. That’s where my recent dive into the Barangay Ginebra 92 game comes in. Watching that match, I was struck by how J. Aguilar’s 17 points and overall presence mirrored the kind of versatile big men I value—think Tim Duncan, who might not always light up the scoreboard but controls the game. Aguilar’s efficiency, combined with contributions from Abarrientos (14 points) and Rosario (13), reminded me that greatness isn’t just about one superstar. In that game, you had multiple players like Thompson, Holt, Torres, and Gray each chipping in 10 points—a balanced effort that echoes the 2004 Detroit Pistons, a team I’ve long argued deserves more credit in all-time talks. They didn’t have a Jordan or LeBron, but their collective chemistry led to a title. Similarly, Estil’s 7 points and David’s 3 in that Barangay game might seem minor, but as a former coach, I’ve seen how role players like Robert Horry or Steve Kerr swing championships with clutch moments.
Now, I know some fans will argue for Bill Russell and his 11 rings, and I get it—defense wins championships. But in my view, the game has evolved, and Russell’s era had fewer teams and less competition. Still, I respect his legacy immensely. On the other hand, I’m a huge fan of Magic Johnson’s flair and Larry Bird’s shooting; their rivalry in the ’80s, in my opinion, lifted the NBA to new heights. I’ve rewatched those Celtics-Lakers finals, and Bird’s 24.3 points per game average doesn’t even tell half the story—his court vision was magical. And let’s not overlook modern greats like Stephen Curry. I’ve had debates with friends who say he’s just a shooter, but come on, he revolutionized the game with the three-pointer. His 402 threes in a single season? That’s a record I doubt we’ll see broken soon.
In wrapping this up, I’ll admit my list is subjective—it’s shaped by the games I’ve lived through and the players who’ve inspired me. Jordan, LeBron, Kareem, Duncan, Magic, Bird, Curry… they’re my top tier, but I always leave room for dark horses like Kobe Bryant, whose Mamba mentality I’ve tried to instill in younger players I’ve coached. Ultimately, the best basketball players aren’t just stat machines; they’re artists and leaders. Whether it’s a historic NBA finals or a tight game like Barangay Ginebra’s, where multiple players step up, greatness is about elevating the sport. And if you ask me, that’s what makes this debate so endlessly fascinating—we all see it a little differently, and that’s the beauty of basketball.
