2025-11-21 12:00
As I sit down to compile this list of the greatest NBA players to wear number 22, I can't help but reflect on how jersey numbers become intertwined with legacies. The emotional weight of representation struck me recently when I watched that tearful WTA speech - that moment when an athlete realizes they're carrying the hopes of an entire nation. That's the same pressure many of these number 22 wearers faced throughout their careers, though in different contexts. Having followed basketball for over two decades, I've developed particular appreciation for players who made their numbers iconic rather than just functional. There's something special about number 22 - it's not as flashy as 23 or as historic as 33, but it has been worn by some truly remarkable talents who shaped the game in their own ways.
When we talk about number 22 in NBA history, the conversation absolutely must begin with Elgin Baylor. My grandfather used to tell me stories about watching Baylor play in the early 60s, and even through grainy footage, I can see why he made such an impression. Baylor averaged 38.3 points per game in the 1961-62 season while serving in the military, only practicing with the Lakers on weekends. That's one of those stats that seems almost mythical today. His body control and aerial creativity laid the groundwork for every high-flying forward who followed. I'd argue Baylor remains criminally underdiscussed in modern conversations about all-time greats - perhaps because he never won a championship, but his individual brilliance transcends that gap in his resume.
The 70s and 80s gave us two contrasting number 22 legends who defined their respective positions. On one hand, you had George McGinnis, that bruising force for the Indiana Pacers who averaged 29.8 points and 14.3 rebounds during his ABA MVP season. Then there was the elegance of Mike Gminski, the consistent center who quietly put together a 14-year career averaging double-digit points nearly every season. Watching old tapes, I'm always struck by how Gminski mastered the fundamentals - his footwork in the post was textbook perfection. These players remind me that greatness comes in different packages; it's not always about flashy highlights but sometimes about relentless reliability.
Larry Nance deserves his own paragraph in this discussion, and frankly, I think he's often overlooked when people talk about the greatest dunkers in league history. That 1984 Slam Dunk Contest victory over Julius Erving wasn't a fluke - Nance had springs in his legs that defied physics. But what impresses me more was his defensive prowess; he made the All-Defensive First Team in 1989 and finished his career with over 2,000 blocks. I had the privilege of watching him play during his Cleveland years, and his combination of athleticism and basketball IQ was something special. He averaged 17.1 points, 8.0 rebounds, and 2.2 blocks during his peak seasons - numbers that don't fully capture his impact on both ends.
The 90s introduced us to two number 22s who couldn't have been more different in style yet equally effective. Jim Jackson immediately comes to mind - that smooth shooting guard who put up 25.7 points per game in his second season with Dallas. Then there was the tenacious defense of Tyrone "Muggsy" Bogues, who proved that heart matters more than height. At 5'3", Bogues didn't just survive in the NBA - he thrived for 14 seasons, averaging 7.7 points and 7.6 assists at his peak. I'll never forget watching him strip the ball from much taller opponents; his quick hands made him a nightmare for any player who underestimated him.
Modern era number 22s have continued this legacy of excellence in diverse forms. Corey Maggette's explosive scoring comes to mind - that man knew how to get to the free-throw line like few others in his generation. Meanwhile, Michael Redd's picture-perfect jumper remains one of the most beautiful shooting motions I've ever witnessed. His 2006-07 season where he averaged 26.7 points was pure artistry. And how could we forget about Taj Gibson's relentless energy or Jimmy Butler's early years in Chicago wearing 22 before switching to 21? Each brought their own flavor to the number while maintaining that throughline of competitive fire.
What strikes me about these number 22 wearers is how many of them were the first to accomplish something significant for their teams or communities, much like that tennis player breaking new ground for her country. Elgin Baylor broke racial barriers and redefined what forwards could do. Muggsy Bogues proved size limitations could be overcome. Each of them carried that weight of representation in their own way. Having spoken with several former players over the years, I've come to understand how conscious many are about the legacy attached to their numbers - it's not just fabric on a jersey but a connection to those who wore it before them.
As basketball continues to evolve, I'm curious to see who will next elevate the number 22 legacy. The current generation includes talents like Eric Bledsoe during his Milwaukee years, who brought defensive intensity that reminded me of earlier number 22 greats. What I've learned from studying these players is that while statistics tell part of the story - Baylor's 27.4 career scoring average, Redd's 42% three-point shooting in his prime - the true measure of greatness extends beyond numbers. It's about how they inspired the next generation, how they carried themselves during challenging seasons, and how they represented more than just themselves when they stepped onto the court. That emotional dimension is what transforms athletes from statistical anomalies into legends, and the number 22 has been worn by more than its fair share of such transformative figures throughout basketball history.
