In the last couple of weeks two events have occurred in the sports world—Roger Federer winning a career Grand Slam and tying Pete Sampras’ all-time Grand Slam mark, and Phil Jackson winning his 10th ring—that has led to many hours of “greatest ever” debates between sports-yak lackeys on the radio and on the TV. Now that Federer has 14 Grand Slams and Jackson now has one more ring than Red Auerbach, the question is: are they the best tennis player and NBA coach, respectively?
First, there’s Federer. For me, the case for Roger Federer is still open—mostly due to the fact that I’d like to see how many Slams he ultimately wins before he retires. If he retires with more than 17 Slams (which is a completely reasonable number if he stays healthy for the next 2-3 years) he is, in my mind, undeniably the greatest men’s tennis player ever. No debate. If he finishes his career in the 14-16 range he would still be undeniably be one of the top 5 players ever but I would have these two things gnawing at me as to why I could never consider him the best: 1) the technology of the sport over the last two decades and 2) the competition he was surrounded by.
Regarding the first point, rackets over the last fifteen years are space aged compared to their predecessors and, like golf, I can’t help but wonder how drastically unfair it is to compare someone like Federer or Nadal and the technology they have grown up with in this era and what Connors and Bjorg and McEnroe had when they were in their primes. If McEnroe in his prime had access to ultra-lightweight titanium rackets, would he have won four Wimbledons in a row? Seven? Same with Martina Navratilova—would she have won ten Wimbledons in a row if she had access to those rackets? (The same goes with Tiger Woods. Woods is no doubt a great golfer but he is using clubs and balls that are way more advanced than anything that Nicklaus, Palmer, or Kite had access to. I realize that these are indicative of different eras but it’s worth mentioning because I don’t think it’s entirely fair either to compare the present and the past on a 1:1 basis. When Tiger Woods beats Nicklaus’ all-time major record, there should be celebrating. But I also think, like with Federer, Woods should have to win 3 more than Nicklaus’ all-time record in order to be considered the hands-down greatest ever. Seems like a fair margin of error to apply once you factor in how much more superior the rackets, clubs, balls, and surfaces for each sport are compared to just a couple of decades ago.)
Secondly, there is Federer’s competition—of which he has no control over, but still. Federer never had to play Sampras in his prime, Agassi in his prime, or anyone who encroached upon the same level as Stefan Edberg, Ivan Lendl, or Boris Becker (i.e.—guys who were very tough to beat even in down years or when they were playing badly). Obviously, Rafael Nadal is Federer’s lone rival and is a terrific all-around player. But I will always feel robbed of the spectacle that would be Federer playing Sampras in his prime—Sampras being one of the greatest net players ever and Federer being one of the greatest baseline players ever. Or the spectacle that would be Federer playing against Agassi in his prime—especially when you consider that Agassi had so much trouble against Sampras, it makes you wonder if the troika of Agassi-Sampras-Federer would just take turns beating the hell out of each other in each Grand Slam tournament.
But, alas, it didn’t work out that way.
But here’s my ultimate point w/r/t Federer (and the same would apply to Tiger Woods too): even if he has a technological advantage over his predecessors and his competition wasn’t as loaded as it was in the ’70′s and ’80′s, if he winds up winning 17 or more Slams that means that he is not only a gifted physical player, but also an indescribably gifted mental player. Even if you are in a tournament where the top two players are out due to injury, you still have to play your ass off to win it. And tennis is a hardcore play-your-ass-off-while-keeping-your-head-level sport. You have no teammates to bail you out on a couple of plays. You are all alone and, unlike golf, you are constantly moving: slow down one bit and you concede an array of angles by which your opponent can destroy you. (David Foster Wallace once wrote that tennis “is to artillery and airstrikes what football is to infantry and attrition.”) It’s all about a mental toughness that is unsurpassed.
Which leads me to Phil Jackson.
Critics of Jackson’s championship teams say that the only reason he has 10 rings now is because he’s only coached teams with superstars. I submit to you that this logic is the very reason as to why he’s the greatest NBA coach ever.
Could Larry Brown, Rick Adelman, Chuck Daly, Larry Bird, Paul Westphal, or Rick Pitino have won a championship coaching the Jordan-Pippen Bulls or Shaq-Kobe Lakers? Probably. Would any of those six men (or anyone else that you care to insert here as another choice) won 6 championships with those Bulls teams, or 3 with those Lakers teams? Absolutely not. No, a thousand times no. Never, not ever.
Phil Jackson convinced Michael Jordan to be a teammate for 42 minutes so that he could have the final 6 minutes to do what he really wanted to do. He convinced Jerry Krause that guys like Ron Harper, Dennis Rodman, and Bill Wentington were guys that had value. He convinced Shaq and Kobe—however begrudgingly—that they needed each other in order to win.
When all is said and done, Phil Jackson’s legacy will be that of the “Zen Master” and that he was able to get superstar egos to play together and seamlessly include role guys into the mix. And it all makes sense because that is the image that Jackson, the sports media, and ourselves want to believe in—that he was some kind of mystical basketball sherpa.
Personally, I think Jackson thrived and lived on chaos. His sound bites were always the antitheis of it but his sound bites were also pre-meditated too. I think he loved that Jordan was so hyper-competitive almost to a fault (i.e.—punching Steve Kerr in the face during practice) to the point that it made him that much more inspired to be able to control it, to harness it, so that it could be unleashed in full during important games. Because, I mean, when Jordan wanted to take over a game, who was going to stop him on the court? Phil Jackson knew that, if left to his own devices, Jordan would probably destroy himself and his team in his monomanical desire to win.
Coaches in any sport are more often than not just guys who need to figure out how to get in the heads of their players. Oh sure, you need to have a level of expertise in game preparation and management but at the end of the day you have to know how to push your guys’ buttons to get the most out of them—either for an extended period of time, or to be the focal point of one play, or one drive.
The NBA is a league of retread coaches (how the fuck does George Karl still have a job?) that are just recycled amongst teams. Phil Jackson is so much greater than all of them and those before them. It’s laughable. And if you need any proof, just go back to the 2000 Lakers-Blazers playoff game. The Blazers had a 15 point lead in the 4th quarter of a Game 7 and a slew of star players (Rasheed Wallace, Scottie Pippen, Steve Smith, Damon Stoudamire, Arvydas Sabonis).
The Blazers also had Mike Dunleavy as their coach and they blew the game. Coincidence? Conversely, if Dunleavy (or Adelman or Karl or Carlisle or Bird or whoever) were the coach of that Lakers team, would they have overcome that 4th quarter deficit and won the series? Methinks not.
Bottom line: Jackson is unequivocally the greatest NBA coach ever, and Roger Federer is top 5 all-time right now and will be unequivocally the greatest men’s tennis player ever if he wins 3 more Slams.