“The Basketball 100” is the definitive ranking of the 100 greatest NBA players of all time from The Athletic’s team of award-winning writers and analysts, including veteran columnists David Aldridge and John Hollinger. This excerpt is reprinted from the book, which also features a foreword by Hall of Famer Charles Barkley.
“The Basketball 100” is available Nov. 26. Read David Aldridge’s introduction and all of the excerpts here.
Walt Frazier’s reverence for Willis Reed ran so deep that he copied his handwriting.
Penmanship, Frazier believes, reveals much about a person: their intelligence, their mood, even their ego. When Reed wrote, Frazier mostly saw consistency — the same trait he remembers defining the player affectionately nicknamed “The Captain.”
“If you saw a thousand signatures by Willis, they’re all the same: neat,” he said.
Get Frazier going about Reed, who passed away in 2023, and it’s hard for him to stop. He gushes about his friend and former teammate with whom he spent his first seven NBA seasons in New York. The two helped lead the Knicks to the franchise’s only championships, in 1970 and ’73. And in their early days, Reed was Frazier’s role model, the big man who took him under his wing and showed him the way.
Reed had a fondness for shepherding rookies, and he passed along so much more than spiffy penmanship. While carving out a Hall of Fame career, he taught professionalism, toughness, and determination. His tenacity on the court rivaled his tenderness off it, whether with fans or the media.
“The three guys considered to be the greatest Knicks of all time: myself, Willis, and Patrick Ewing,” Frazier said. “If Willis Reed did not have the injuries that he had, it would not be, ‘Who’s the greatest Knick of all time?’
“I’m wearing two championship rings now. I would be wearing more if Willis Reed could have remained healthy.”
A two-time champion, seven-time All-Star, two-time NBA Finals MVP, and one-time league MVP, Reed played all 10 of his seasons with the Knicks after they selected him in the second round of the 1964 draft out of Grambling State, a historically Black university in Grambling, Louisiana.
Reed averaged 18.7 points and 12.9 rebounds in 650 regular-season games before retiring at only 31 because of debilitating knee injuries. However, his story will live forever in NBA lore for him famously emerging from the Madison Square Garden tunnel before Game 7 of the 1970 NBA Finals and playing through injury to help the Knicks win their first title.
“He was the backbone of the team,” Frazier said. “He led by example. He did it on the court. He worked diligently in practice. He always gave 110 percent. He would never let you get down.”
It’s why Frazier can go on and on about Reed. When told Reed was the subject, Frazier gladly guided a trip down memory lane, offering a peek into Reed as one of the game’s all-time great players and people.
“It’s like reminiscing about the good old days and the people that made you,” Frazier said. “You forget. Like Bob Marley said, ‘You can’t forget your past.’ This is my past before I was ‘Clyde.’ I owe a lot to that man.”
There was one time Willis Reed disappointed Clyde Frazier.
It was 1967. Frazier had just been drafted fifth by the Knicks, and Reed was sent to retrieve him from the airport.
“The dude is about 45 minutes late, man,” Frazier said.
When Reed arrived, he pulled up in a convertible — “ a deuce and a quarter back then,” Frazier remembered fondly — and shouted, “Hey, you Frazier? Come on, man, let’s go.”
“He didn’t apologize or anything,” Frazier added. “And then he’s speeding. The dude is speeding down the highway. We get pulled over by the cops. He starts arguing with the cop that he wasn’t speeding. And being from the South, I go, ‘Oh no, I’m going to see this guy get shot, man.’ But he talked the cop out of the ticket.”
It was Frazier’s first taste of the Willis Reed rules.
When it was over, Reed took Frazier to his home. And just when Frazier was coming down from the encounter with the traffic cop, the convertible rolled into Reed’s estate.
“His house was like Grand Central Station,” Frazier said. “I didn’t know who were his kids, who lived there. His neighbors, everybody was just in and out of his house. When I say generous, that’s the way the man is. One of the most generous guys you’d ever meet. He’d loan you his car. He’d loan you money. Anything. Terrific guy.”
Reed then took Frazier out on the town. He arranged a date for Frazier and showed his new point guard around. They shot over to Smalls Paradise, a swanky nightclub in Harlem frequented by a who’s who of stars and, at that time, property of part-owner Wilt Chamberlain.
“It was like something out of a movie,” Frazier said.
The club introduced Reed. He got a standing ovation. Reed knew everyone, and everyone knew him. He loved fine dining, and when he hosted, he reserved space at the best restaurants. He grew a reputation for being a big tipper. The fresh-faced, wide-eyed Frazier began taking notes long before he took the court.
“I bought a convertible after that,” he said.
Nearly six decades later, Frazier still can’t help but chuckle as he recounts the time Reed went ballistic. Frazier hadn’t even reached the NBA, but Reed’s reputation had then extended far beyond the pros. Everyone knew what kind of competitor Reed was. On one infamous night, his ferociousness morphed into all-out fury.
“What epitomizes him,” Frazier said, “the year before I came to the Knicks, he beat up the entire Lakers team. Broke guys’ noses, everything.”
The melee is unlike any fight in NBA history. Reed was a one-man wrecking crew, taking on and knocking out damn near anyone who stood in his path.
“He just ran amok,” Frazier said. “It was, like, ‘Holy cow, man.’ Nobody could control him. He’s just going around the Lakers bench, man, punching people back and forth. A lot of guys fleeing for their life.”
Reed shed the genial role the moment he stepped across the lines. He never was known as a dirty player, but if things escalated, you’d better believe Reed knew what to do. At 6-foot-10 and 240 pounds during his playing days, few dared step in to try to stop him.
“When he got into a fight, don’t try to hold him, if you’re on his team or not,” Frazier said. “He makes sure no one’s behind him, and he just starts punching. You didn’t want to get him angry.”
It was part of what endeared Reed as “The Captain.”
Reed stood toe-to-toe with some of the game’s all-time great big men — Chamberlain, Bill Russell, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Nate Thurmond, Jerry Lucas, Wes Unseld, and Elvin Hayes. He earned respect from them all.
“When I knew I had to face Willis Reed during a series or maybe four or five times during the course of the year, I didn’t need anything else to psych me up, because I knew if I wasn’t ready, you’ll probably get your face walked in,” the late Unseld said. “He wouldn’t crack. … Willis Reed was not a quitter.”
Tenacity is what separated Reed. It never mattered who stood in front of him. He gave every ounce he had.
“I remember playing games with him, and he’d get so mad he’d almost squeeze the air out of the ball if he’s losing,” Frazier said. “I’d think, ‘This guy is crazy, man. It’s a pickup game.’ But that’s how he approached the game, all business.”
In Reed’s sixth season, the Knicks raced to a franchise-record 60 wins, at one point rattling off a then-record 18 straight victories. They crafted the league’s top defense, with Reed capturing league MVP, All-Defensive First Team, and, for good measure, All-Star Game MVP. He was at the peak of his powers, putting together a magical season that would see him outplay, in successive postgame series, Unseld, Abdul-Jabbar, and Chamberlain.
But it was what Reed did in the final game that season that launched him into a stratosphere past legend and into that of a mythical figure.
Everyone assumed the moment was premeditated — as if Reed were playing possum in the biggest game of his life — the night he’d always dream of someday experiencing. But this was no ploy.
“This,” Frazier said, “was the personification of Willis Reed.”
It was May 8, 1970. The resurgent Knicks were playing for their first championship, staring down a tightly contested NBA Finals series against Chamberlain and the Lakers after disposing of Unseld’s Bullets and Abdul-Jabbar’s Bucks. New York won Game 5 at home to take a 3–2 series lead. But a torn muscle in Reed’s right thigh threatened to derail a charmed season.
Reed didn’t play in Game 6, a Lakers victory in which Chamberlain dominated with 45 points and 27 rebounds, both series highs. The Lakers won by 22, and no one knew whether Reed would be available for Game 7. This was 1970. There was no social media. Speculation ran rampant. Anxiety in New York ran deeper.
“I only found out recently that Willis had been in the training room the day of the game since, like, eight or nine o’clock in the morning getting treatment,” Frazier said. “Only when I got to the game did I know if he would play. He was sitting in the training room [beforehand]. So we keep going in. And Holzman would say, ‘Get out of here. Whether Willis plays or not, we have to play. Get ready to play the game.’
“We were just as flabbergasted as everybody else when he came out on the court.”
It has since been labeled the Willis Reed Game.
Reed emerged from the tunnel wearing white warm-ups with orange trim and took the court with his teammates. As the Madison Square Garden crowd erupted, Reed received a pass and joined in the pregame shooting. With each practice shot he made, fans cheered more.
“I’ll never forget [Jerry] West, Chamberlain, [Elgin] Baylor, three of the greatest players of all time, they stopped doing what they were doing and just started staring at Willis,” Frazier said. “I said to myself, ‘Man, we’ve got these guys.’”
The late Madison Square Garden public address announcer John Condon announced Reed third in starting lineup introductions with a goose bump–inducing call.
“At center. Number 19. Captain. Willis Reed.”
The Garden rejoiced. Condon wisely allowed it to happen. Knicks fans showered Reed with a standing ovation that went on and on. Condon didn’t announce the fourth starter — Frazier — for 28 seconds.
Reed needed a painkilling shot in his thigh before tip-off. But when he met Chamberlain at center court, Reed barely left his feet for the jump ball. From the start, he hobbled up and down the court. Yet on the Knicks’ first possession, following an airball by Baylor that triggered a fast break, Reed hauled in a pass from Frazier and walked into a free-throw line pull-up. It rattled in. Knicks fans roared. Reed limped back on defense.
Two possessions later, Reed caught the ball on the right wing, faked a pass, and fired a second jumper. This one came over Chamberlain, who was forced to flee his comfort zone in the paint. It, too, rattled home.
“I’m, like, ‘There’s nothing wrong with this guy,’ ” Frazier said.
They were Reed’s only baskets. He missed his final three shots and finished with four points, three rebounds, and four fouls in 27 minutes. But his presence was powerful. Reed inspired his teammates, energized the Garden, and stunned the Lakers, infusing the Knicks with an emotional lift that would come to epitomize athletic courage.
Reed helped limit Chamberlain to 21 points on 10 of 16 shots, 21 fewer than he attempted in Game 6. In winning NBA Finals MVP, Reed became the first player in league history to win All-Star Game MVP, league MVP, and finals MVP in the same season.
Reed’s legendary night overshadowed one of the greatest NBA Finals performances no one talks about. It was Frazier who lit up the Lakers for 36 points and 19 assists, both game-highs. But in the Willis Reed Game, Frazier’s shining moment became a footnote.
“That’s how beloved he was,” Frazier said. “I was a captain of the Knicks. But I wasn’t the Captain like Willis. Everybody didn’t follow me. Everybody didn’t respect me. We’ve had a lot of captains of the Knicks. But he is the Captain still. After all these years … he’s still the Captain.”
Career NBA stats: G: 650, Pts.: 18.7, Reb.: 12.9, Ast.: 1.8, Win Shares: 74.9, PER: 18.6
Achievements: Five-time All-NBA, Seven-time All-Star, NBA champ (’70, ’73), Rookie of the Year (’65), NBA MVP (’70), Finals MVP (’70, ’73), Hall of Fame (’82)
Excerpted from “The Basketball 100” published by William Morrow. Copyright © 2024 by The Athletic Media Company. Reprinted courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers
(Illustration: Kelsea Petersen / The Athletic; Photo: Ross Lewis / Getty Images )
