THE ASHER ARCHIVES
For All-Time’s Sake
August 25, 2046
By Asher Raines
When the stakes are low, there can be something strangely unifying about a debate.
The immediate creation of an “us and them” mentality leads to a natural camaraderie with those on our side — a sense that “they get it.” But even with those on the opposite side of an argument, a connection is formed.
It’s stimulating to engage with someone else’s opinions and hear why they believe what they do. And it’s entertaining to go back and forth with points and counterpoints, often giving an issue far more thought than is at all necessary.
In a way, that’s the entire point. To debate is to have an opinion. To have an opinion is to care. And it’s good to care. Is a hot dog a sandwich? What color is that dress? Are there more doors or wheels in the world? The answers to these questions aren’t important, but for a brief moment in time, to those in the debate, nothing could matter more.
But what makes these topics so captivating in the first place? I think their universality plays a major role.
We live in a hyper-specialized world. Have you ever asked someone what they did for a living, had them explain it to you, and still felt you didn’t have any better of an idea? We all share this planet, yet our lives are so impossibly different.
Consider our nearly limitless entertainment options. A downside of having so many choices is that there is little that is consumed by everybody.
Over the last several decades, it has become increasingly likely that the people around you haven’t seen your favorite shows or movies, listened to your favorite music, and don’t follow your favorite content creators. They may have never even heard of the things you like the most, and that can be very isolating.
We crave a sense of connection, but often don’t know where to find it. These debates are easy to understand and easy to have an opinion on. And once that opinion is established, it’s surprisingly rigid.
Perhaps there is no area where simple debates are so commonplace, and taken to such passionate extremes, as sports.
Eleven seconds. That’s how long it took at Madison Square Garden for everything to become real, as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar scored the first points of the NBA’s Legends Simulation with a dunk.
The first time Abdul-Jabbar played in that building, dunking wasn’t even allowed.
It was Dec. 27, 1968, and Abdul-Jabbar — then known as Lew Alcindor — was in his senior season at UCLA. The #1 ranked Bruins made the journey to New York for the annual ECAC Holiday Classic, one of the most prestigious tournaments of its time.
Alcindor had led UCLA to National Championships in each of his first two seasons on the varsity team. After the first of those titles, the NCAA banned dunking. The NCAA said the dunk was not a skilled shot and cited safety concerns, but many believed the rule was designed to curb the dominance of Alcindor, who had averaged 29.0 PPG the year prior with dunking a major part of his offensive repertoire.
In their opening game of the Holiday Classic, UCLA beat Providence 98–81 behind 26 points from Alcindor. He would add 40 points in the semifinal against Princeton and 30 in the final against St. John’s as UCLA went home as champions.
The Bruins would finish that season 29–1 and win their third straight national title. It took until the 1976–77 season for the NCAA to allow dunking again. By then, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was a four-time NBA MVP.
Abdul-Jabbar’s last professional game at MSG came with the Lakers in 1988. Now, almost six decades later, he was back at the Mecca of basketball.
Of course, that’s not exactly the case. Abdul-Jabbar, like many of the NBA’s all-time greats, is no longer with us. Even if he were, he would be 99 years old, an age where suiting up on the hardwood isn’t much of an option.
This version of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is a product of the NBA’s Centennial Celebration. Maybe culmination would be a better word, as it feels like everything that has happened over the past year has led up to this — this one-of-a-kind tournament, a science-fiction paradise made into reality.
When the NBA turned “25,” it unveiled its first anniversary team. It comprised 10 players — four guards, four forwards, and two centers — as it was intended to represent All-NBA teams for the league up to that point.
10 years later, the NBA’s 35th Anniversary Team featured 11 players and a coach, made to resemble more of an All-Star team. Unlike its predecessor, this list did not require players to be retired.
This allowed active players Abdul-Jabbar and Julius Erving to make the final cut, along with players such as Wilt Chamberlain, Oscar Robertson, and Jerry West, who were ineligible for the prior list. In all, just four players from the 25th Anniversary Team (Bob Cousy, George Mikan, Bob Pettit, and Bill Russell) also made the 35th Anniversary Team.
The league reached the half-century mark in 1996 and went big with its announcement of the “50 Greatest Players in NBA History.” During halftime of the following season’s All-Star Game in Cleveland, 47 members of that team took the court together in certainly the most extraordinary collection of basketball talent ever assembled.
Similarly, the NBA 75th Anniversary Team was unveiled in 2021 and formally recognized at the 2022 All-Star Game. Interestingly, it featured 76 players rather than 75 due to a tie in the voting process.
Naturally, for its 100th anniversary, the NBA would want something even grander. Naming a list of the Association’s Top 100 Players of All Time was predictable, but no one could have foreseen that the NBA would create android versions of each of those players with jaw-dropping accuracy and have them compete in a tournament for the ultimate bragging rights.
So while that wasn’t the real Kareem Abdul-Jabbar on the floor at Madison Square Garden, the skyhook went in just the same.
In modern society, sports are the exception to the rule. Our lives are impossibly different, but sports build community. Most people follow at least one sport or at least have experience playing a sport growing up. When television viewership declined almost across the board, sports held firm, arguably carrying the industry.
Live matches are appointment television and the next day’s water cooler conversations. You see sports everywhere — including the majority of TV screens in public, because aside from their immense popularity, sports are advertiser-friendly and mostly non-controversial.
It is, as they say, all fun and games. At least, until someone starts a debate. And in the sport of basketball, no debate is as incendiary as the GOAT debate. Who is the greatest player of all time?
This is one of those simple, rabbit hole debates — the ones that everyone has an opinion on and can be argued for hours. There will always be more practical topics to discuss — contemporary issues that will impact the NBA’s present and future — but nothing that feels as weighty.
There is an undeniable gravitas that emerges when considering the GOAT. Only one man can sit on the throne atop the basketball mountain, and that spot is sacred. After all, this is a sport we love, and that person deemed #1 is its ultimate representative.
For better or worse, athletes become our heroes, with some even rising to the level of gods. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the stakes seem so high in a GOAT debate — to pick a side is to subscribe to a religion. Any dispute thereafter becomes a holy war.
However, the debate has obvious biases. Perhaps, if you took someone who knew nothing about basketball and explained to them the history of the game, gave them each candidate’s career stats, accolades, and best highlights, with context of their cultural impact, play styles, signature moves, and personalities, you could begin to obtain an objective point of view on who the greatest player of all time is.
But for those who are already fans of the game, that isn’t possible, and the undeniable truth is that our opinions are informed by the era we grew up in. Who was the best player when you were a kid?
This idea isn’t even limited to sports. The way a thing “should be” is heavily shaped by the way you first experienced it. You’re more likely to think the best Spider-Man is whoever you saw portray the superhero first and the first album you listen to from a band has a good chance of ending up as your favorite.
That actor’s portrayal or that album sets the standard for who Spider-Man is or what that band sounds like. If you’re a fan of something, that “thing” that made you become a fan must have been special in some way, and holds an important place within your memory.
Combine that with childhood — a time when emotions were pure. It was easy to become fanatical about something or completely loathe it. The gray area was still in development. We yearn for a simpler time, and the power of nostalgia makes one forget the flaws of things. The sports heroes of our youth feel perfect. Maybe our starry eyes never saw their faults in the first place.
These GOAT debates involve our own childhood and personal rooting interests, making our connection to our side even stronger. It is the bias that makes us care more, and that fact makes the debate infinite — as we are unwavering in solidarity with our past selves.
For a moment, let’s accept that Michael Jordan and LeBron James are the most common picks for the GOAT. The simple fact is that if you grew up watching Jordan, you’re likely on team Jordan. The same goes for if you grew up watching LeBron. Unless, of course, you hated LeBron or Jordan as a kid. If they were your supervillain, you might have an unyielding conviction that they are not the GOAT.
As a 27-year-old, I didn’t grow up watching Michael Jordan. I am not of the LeBron James generation, but the Bronny James generation. I grew up watching guys like Luka Doncic, Paolo Banchero, and Victor Wembanyama.
I’ve never watched most of the NBA’s all-time greats play live. There are highlights, sure, but we can all agree that it’s not the same as living it — when the outcome hasn’t already been decided, and anything can happen. There is great tension in that uncertainty, but also thrill as the picture is painted before your eyes.
Basketball is art, and the Legends Simulation brought together the best artists in a way previously thought impossible. Because just as I’ve never watched Elgin Baylor, Julius Erving, David Robinson, or Dwyane Wade, none of them ever faced each other.
On April 16, 2003, a 40-year-old Michael Jordan played in his final NBA game. Less than two and a half months later, on June 26, the Cleveland Cavaliers used the first pick in the 2003 NBA Draft to select an 18-year-old named LeBron James.
Even as the GOAT debate has raged on, reasonable people have been able to conclude that it is ultimately pointless to compare players from different eras.
So much about the league has changed over 100 years, from the overall level of competition to the most basic details typically taken for granted — the number of teams, the rulebook, and even the lines on the court.
During the NBA’s early years, the lane was six feet wide (it’s now 16 feet wide) and there wasn’t a shot clock. The first third of league history was played without a three-point line. How can you compare Jerry West to Stephen Curry? The only way is to let them play, and the NBA dared to do just that.
The Legends Simulation was announced in September of last year, weeks before the NBA’s 100th season began. Living members of the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame, along with a selection of current players, coaches, team executives, and media members made up the voting panel, whose selections were finalized by the end of 2045.
The list was gradually released during the TV special “The NBA’s Legends Revealed: 100 Seasons, 100 Players,” which aired two-hour episodes on each of the first five Fridays of 2046, with 10 players unveiled per hour. Short films for each player, along with biographies, extended highlight tapes, and expert analysis came out over the following months.
During this time, the NBA worked closely with Liminal Robotics and Torus AI on the development of the “Doubles” — android replicas of the 100 legends, life-size and accurate to each player’s body type and appearance.
Each Double was trained using machine learning with all available game footage and motion tracking, combined with rate stats and shot tendencies. For older players, historians were consulted, and written records of the players through newspapers, books, and magazines were analyzed to contribute to the Doubles’ play styles.
Once the Doubles were completed, millions of games amongst the 100 players were privately simulated digitally, featuring random combinations of 5-on-5 matchups. With the results of these games, 20 teams of five players were chosen by a competition committee to give each a balance of player positions and overall strength.
These teams were announced on another live special, while simultaneously, social media accounts and merchandise stores were launched for each. All squads were named after one of the NBA’s 20 Greatest Coaches, according to a sister list also released as part of the Centennial Celebration.
The early favorites were Jackson’s Five, named after the Zen Master himself Phil Jackson, and featuring a lineup of Dave Bing, Michael Jordan, Rick Barry, Zion Williamson, and Robert Parish, although other groups like the Sloan Rangers, Spoel Stars, and Kerr Your Enthusiasm were also popular picks.
Most teams were designed to include at least one player that was coached by its namesake, but an exception to this was The Wilkens Way. Although none of Lenny Wilkens’ players made it onto the team, its point guard was none other than Wilkens himself, the only person to be named both a top 100 player and top 20 coach.
The tournament was split into two phases — a group stage and a knockout stage. The 20 teams were drawn into four groups of five, with each group playing round-robin games in either New York, San Francisco, Houston, or Chicago.
From there, the top three teams in each group advanced to the knockout stage, with the first-place team in each group receiving a bye into the quarterfinals. Best-of-three series were played in additional locations around the country, culminating with a best-of-five championship in Los Angeles.
To truly represent the NBA’s 100 years of action, four different court configurations were used in the Legends Simulation, with each game being assigned one at random.
- The Original Court → 6-foot wide lane, no 3-point line
- The Widened Lane → 18-foot wide lane, no 3-point line
- The Traditional Three → 18-foot wide lane, 23’9” 3-point line (22 feet in corners)
- The Modern Court → 18-foot wide lane, 25’ 3-point line (no corner three)
For all other elements of the game, current regulations were used, with the exception of a few minor tweaks. For example, there were only five players on each team, as the robotic nature of the Doubles allowed them to play 48 minutes a game and play on consecutive days without needing to recover. Because of this, players were given unlimited personal fouls, although the bonus would still be in effect on the fifth foul of each quarter as normal.
After hearing so much talk over the years about which all-time greats would get crushed by modern competition and who couldn’t survive without the three-point line, this was finally the time to put it all to the test and find out who would reign supreme.
And while the bragging rights were immense, there was more on the line — the winning squad would be inducted into the Hall of Fame as a team and have $1 million donated to charities chosen by each player (or their family).
Looking back, there was a chance the Legends Simulation could have been a huge flop. After all, these weren’t real people playing basketball, and while seeing any version of Michael Jordan play would be a spectacle, that didn’t necessarily hold true for Paul Arizin or Jerry Lucas.
To some degree, it isn’t too dissimilar from an Esports tournament, but even then, there are actual organizations and participants to cheer on. Asking people to be invested enough to follow a month-long competition amongst androids and even pay to watch it live is a different animal.
Yet, people cared. It speaks to both the execution of the idea and our fondness for this great game. And of course, it doesn’t hurt to have the all-time greats themselves all in.
For everything he did in his NBA career, LeBron James never competed in the Slam Dunk Contest during All-Star Weekend. However, LeBron (the human) sat courtside as LeBron (the Double) participated in the Legends Simulation’s version of the event, which took place in between the group and knockout stages as part of an artificial All-Star Weekend.
Steph Curry watched himself square off with the likes of Larry Bird, Ray Allen, and Pete Maravich in the three-point contest while Nikola Jokic saw his Double take on the skills competition. And then there was the most anticipated event — the 1-on-1 contest.
The weekend served as both a swansong for the players who would not be competing in the knockout stage and yet another opportunity to bring the sports world together in awe of something that had proven to be more than a video game or science fair project, but rather past and present intertwined.
From the moment the Top 100 players began to be announced, the conversation was already underway. Who would make it? Who would be left out? Did the voting panel get it right? The media and the public alike were obsessed with analyzing and critiquing the selections. Fans created countless video, podcast, and blog series offering their own opinions, with some even making their own top 100 lists or ranking formulas and comparing them with the official list.
Many players who made the cut celebrated their selection, choosing to thank those who helped them along the way, show gratitude to the game of basketball, or simply be amazed by their new accolade and status.
But not everyone got to see themselves memorialized amongst the league’s finest, and a few were also vocal in their disappointment or frustration, saying either that the list was a joke or staying adamant that they didn’t need the recognition to know what they accomplished in their careers.
Those who did make the top 100 saw their Doubles take on nicknames suitable for androids. Michael Jordan became Mech-al Jordan. Luka Doncic was Luka Donchip. Chris Paul? CP-3P0. The list goes on, from Kevin Gearnett to Giannis Antennakounmpo, Oscar Robotson, and Shaquille O’Steel.
One of the biggest questions surrounding the Legends Simulation was how players from different eras would match up against each other. Now that the event has happened, I can say with relief that everyone held their own.
Some people believe that basketball players are continually getting better over time and that the majority of the best players to ever play are currently in the league. Others say that today’s game is softer than ever before and modern stars wouldn’t be able to handle the physicality of earlier eras. However, the accomplishments of standouts from the NBA’s first few decades are routinely dismissed. “So what? They played against a bunch of plumbers.”
It’s an act that goes back and forth, and so it was nice to see those from every era have big moments, proving what made them so great. Still, just like in any other tournament, some played better than others.
This is unavoidable, yet we often lack the nuance to still recognize the talent before us. Just look at the way some players and teams were received. The teams that lost all of their games “sucked.” Players who struggled during stretches “sucked.” Every highlight is an opportunity to admire greatness, but every lowlight is an opportunity to criticize.
As realistic as the Doubles are, they aren’t the actual versions of these players. Nevertheless, particularly for the players from earlier eras, this is the only version of them many people have seen on the court.
The Legends Simulation is a tribute to and commemoration of the NBA’s first 100 seasons, but it is also unmistakably a competition, with the goal of determining the best player of all time (or at least adding to the argument).
In a group of 100 players, someone will be the best, someone will be the worst, and someone will be every ranking in between. This tournament served to create those rankings.
But why do we need the rankings? Why do we need a GOAT? These are some of the greatest athletes the world has ever seen. They reached the NBA, the pinnacle of basketball, and not only that — they established themselves among the best to ever suit up. And for 99 of them, it ends with them not being good enough.
Sports are so tied to the idea of competition — winning and losing. This pushes athletes to their absolute peak performance. However, that relentless quest for improvement actively discourages contentment. There are always places to improve, and there is always someone better than you. If you somehow make it to the top, you have to keep working to maintain that position. There is no room for complacency.
I am not an athlete, but this certainly resonates with my own life as well. Whatever happened to being good enough? We create imaginary mountains until they become too steep to climb, and in this way, we are all enslaved by our work.
And for what? A legacy? To be remembered as one of the greatest at something? Is that all our lives are — jockeying for position on some kind of leaderboard? Or is it just to be remembered at all?
Do you know who Bob Davies is? I didn’t think so. Davies was a point guard from Seton Hall who played for the Rochester Royals in the league’s early days, leading the franchise now known as the Kings to their only NBA title in 1951. He was later named to the NBA’s 25th Anniversary Team, its first anniversary squad.
At one point, he was named one of the 10 greatest players in league history. Now, Davies is little more than a footnote in history books, someone only known to the basketball historians and trivia aficionados of the world.
Regardless of how high a pedestal you may stand on, at some point, your achievements will fade and your memory will be erased. The same holds true for everyone honored in the NBA’s Centennial Celebration as one of the Top 100 Players of All Time — even the ones for which that seems impossible.
And if that is the case, it seems more appropriate to appreciate talent rather than to rank it, criticize it, or downplay it.
Of course, many people do appreciate the talent. I am grateful for those who provided film breakdowns of Legends Simulation games, analyzing the techniques used by players and teams the same way they would NBA contests. I am grateful for those who made highlight tapes dedicated to each player, and those who used this opportunity to create amazing artwork.
I am grateful for the commentators, camera crews, and production teams that did a tremendous job in creating the product that we were lucky enough to watch. I am grateful for everyone who truly enjoyed this once-in-a-lifetime experience and cherished it with their friends and families.
Nothing is inherently good or bad — it is, instead, what we choose to make of it. We see this a lot in the sports world, where players on our team are mythical figures fighting for all that is good and our rivals are comic book villains that must be vanquished.
Then there are fantasy sports and sports betting, which can add an extra element of entertainment and intrigue to a game if done the right way but lead to anger towards both peers and athletes if taken too seriously, or with too much on the line.
So, then — what do I choose to make of this whole affair? The Legends Simulation was one of the great sports spectacles of my lifetime, and it was only fitting that it came down to one final game. 10 players. 48 minutes. 100 years. For all the marbles. Or something like that.
When the final buzzer sounded, five robotic basketball players lifted a very real trophy, and it was glorious. Not because it meant something in the grand scheme of the universe or ended a long-standing debate that will surely continue to rage on, but because it mattered to us.
It brought us together and got us to care. And caring is good.
This is the final story in the Asher Raines “Future Basketball” trilogy, preceded by “An Overindulgence of Madness” and “The Loophole Owner.” Links to all Asher Raines stories can be found below.
Asher Raines Stories
An Overindulgence of Madness
Taysom Hill Plays Other Sports
The Loophole Owner
Asher’s Radio Interview (a follow-up to The Loophole Owner)
For All-Time’s Sake
A Grand Goodbye
