[G-spec]

^ it's sad what's happening with AI right now man, shitty end to a great career..

liu they explain it in the very first page the whole ranking system if you pick up the magazine, i will post a picture of that page and also the explanation by Rick Telander...
and YES Shaq came in at an awesomely defiant 4!


By Rick Telander

Talk about an argument? I’m trying to cruise through this list of the greatest basketball players of all time, and I can’t get past No. 2! Wilt Chamberlain was better than No. 7, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? I mean, giant Kareem scored more points than anybody in NBA history, won six NBA titles, a record six regular season MVP awards, three NCAA championships at UCLA, and… OK, so giant Wilt scored 100 points in an NBA game, averaged over 50 points in a season, led the League in rebounding 11 times, shooting percentage nine times, and once led the League in…assists. Hmm…

Strap yourself in, boys and girls—this is an all-day sucker. Debate 101. Basketball History for Maniacs.

Can we all at least agree that MJ was the greatest ever? Yes? No? I hear the Kobe (No. 10) people grousing. I hear (No. 6) Magic’s choir yodeling. Even the Bill Russell (No. 3) brigade is shouting out.

Lord, how do you compare a panther to a giraffe, a cheetah to a grizzly, a marlin to a whale? You can’t, but we try to. We must, if for no other reason than that we humans love lists, rankings, comparisons, champions, the best—and the worst. We make declarations of certitude, even when we haven’t a clue. Which makes for FUN!

Not that this list is wrong, stupid or lacking in deep introspection, even calculus, and philosophy. Every man on the list was, or is, a terrific player. By my reckoning, I have seen the vast majority play live on TV or in person at least once. I watched MJ play maybe 300 college and NBA games from within a few feet of the court. Once, he sat so close to me while on the Bulls’ bench that I had to crane my neck to see around him. And while watching MJ go for his six NBA titles, I saw everybody from Kareem to Dominique Wilkins (No. 43) to Quinn Buckner (No. 245) to Scott Skiles (No. 364) to barely-on-the-list David Wesley (No. 499) do their things. You might ask, Who’s No. 500? I’ll let you surf to the end at your own speed, but here’s a hint: His nickname was “Never Nervous.” And, other than Carmelo Anthony (No. 105), he’s the only college player ever to win an NCAA title and be named MOP as a freshman. And one time he broke his toe moving furniture and missed almost two NBA seasons because of it.

But, dang. This list messes with my mind. Every time I find one of my favorite players and say to myself, Now, why on God’s green earth isn’t Paul Silas (No. 138), the rebounding fool, ranked higher? I then have to admit: And move Michael Cooper (No. 137), the guy who played defense like a tree snake in your jock, down a notch?

It’s wild to think of a fivesome as spectacular as Patrick Ewing, Jerry Lucas, Gary Payton, Allen Iverson and Billy Cunningham, and then ponder the notion that they comprise not quite the eighth-best quintet on the list. And that could be correct. I mean, it probably is. Or not.

Which leads me to thinking: What if all these guys could come back for one day, in their prime, with fashion and styles of their era—crewcuts, Afros, ponytails, tube socks, tighty-whities, silky bloomers, Under Armour sleeves, headbands, buckle belts, black canvas hightops, Nike signatures, tats, sculpted biceps, and all of them jacked and ferocious and ready to make their mark for history—and they just go at it in a massive gymnasium for hours and hours until the cream has risen and the chaff has fallen and the numbers are pinned appropriately to the sweat-soaked jerseys.

Oh, it’s a dream and could never be done, not even with a time machine, because how do you fairly gauge an individual in a team game? A superstar who might be as tall as Yao Ming, as short as Spud Webb, as muscular as Karl Malone, as skinny as Tayshaun Prince, as athletic as Dave DeBusschere, as mechanical as Dikembe Mutombo, as lead-footed as Mark Eaton, as fleet as Mo Cheeks, as massive as Shaq, as Bambi-esque as Tiny Archibald? And with all the rules changes, the three-point shot, the palming, the hacking, the zone, the refs, the…

As I said before, you don’t. But you can try. And what a journey it is—more fun than a boatful of Dennis Rodmans. Which reminds me, why is the Worm only No. 48? Is somebody crazy here?