The debate over who deserves the crown as the best handler in NBA history is one that never truly fades from basketball conversations. Every time I sit down to rewatch classic games or analyze modern playmaking, I find myself drawn into this endless discussion. It’s not just about flashy passes or high assist numbers—it’s about control, vision, and that almost magical ability to elevate everyone on the court. I’ve spent years breaking down film, studying stats, and even talking to former players, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that greatness in handling isn’t just measurable—it’s felt.

This season, something interesting caught my eye—a parallel in a different league, where a revelation in Bedonia emerged as the league’s second-best server while also stepping up as a clutch attacker. Reading that, I couldn’t help but draw connections to the NBA. That kind of dual-threat capability—excelling in distribution while also delivering when it matters most—is exactly what separates good handlers from legendary ones. As Ricafort noted, “The young guns are also helpful, especially during training, in raising the level of competition within the team.” That statement resonates deeply with me. I’ve always believed that the best handlers don’t just make their teammates better; they force everyone around them to raise their game, much like how intense training with hungry young players can sharpen the entire squad. Think about it—Magic Johnson didn’t just rack up assists; he made the Lakers’ fast break a terrifying force, and his presence pushed teammates like James Worthy to new heights. Similarly, today, you see players like Chris Paul, who, even at 38, commands the floor with a mix of old-school savvy and relentless precision. His career average of 9.5 assists per game is staggering, but it’s his playoff performances—like the 41-point, 8-assist gem in the 2021 Western Conference Finals—that cement his legacy. I’ve always been partial to players who thrive under pressure, and Paul’s ability to control the tempo, whether his team is up by 20 or down in the fourth quarter, is something I admire endlessly.

But let’s not forget the pioneers. When I think of all-time great handlers, Oscar Robertson’s name springs to mind immediately. Averaging a triple-double for an entire season back in 1961-62—30.8 points, 12.5 rebounds, and 11.4 assists—was almost unthinkable at the time. I’ve watched grainy footage of his games, and what stands out isn’t just the stats; it’s how he dictated the flow without ever seeming rushed. In my view, Robertson set the blueprint for the modern point guard, blending size, skill, and sheer will. Then there’s John Stockton, the maestro of the pick-and-roll. Holding the all-time assists record at 15,806, Stockton was the epitome of consistency. I’ve spoken to coaches who faced him, and they all say the same thing: he was a step ahead mentally, reading defenses like a chess master. Personally, I lean toward handlers who prioritize efficiency over flair, and Stockton’s career 51.5% field goal percentage as a guard is a testament to that. But here’s where I might ruffle some feathers—I don’t think Stockton’s playoff performances always matched his regular-season dominance. In the 1997 Finals, for instance, he averaged just 9.5 assists, below his usual standard, which makes me wonder if he truly belongs at the very top.

Of course, the modern era has reshaped what we expect from handlers. Stephen Curry, for example, isn’t just a shooter; his ball-handling and off-ball movement create openings that stats alone can’t capture. I remember watching him drop 37 points and 11 assists in Game 4 of the 2019 Finals—the one where Kevin Durant was out—and thinking, “This is artistry.” Curry’s handles allow him to navigate traps and double-teams, and his mere presence on the court forces defenses to stretch to the breaking point. That’s a quality I value highly: the ability to warp the game beyond the box score. On the other hand, LeBron James, though often categorized as a forward, might be the most versatile handler in history. His playoff assist average of 7.2 per game, combined with his scoring and rebounding, showcases a unique blend of roles. I’ve always argued that LeBron’s court vision is unparalleled—he sees passes before they even develop, like in the 2020 playoffs when he dished out 10.7 assists per game en route to the title. If I had to pick a favorite, it’d be LeBron for his sheer adaptability, but I know many purists would scoff at including a non-traditional point guard in this conversation.

Ultimately, deciding the best handler ever comes down to what you prioritize. Is it longevity, like Stockton’s 19-season reign? Is it innovation, like Magic’s fast-break wizardry? Or is it clutch gene, like Chris Paul’s fourth-quarter heroics? For me, it’s a mix, but I’ll always have a soft spot for Isiah Thomas, whose 1989 Finals performance—averaging 21.3 points and 7.3 assists while willing the Pistons to a championship—embodies the heart of a true handler. He wasn’t the biggest or the strongest, but he had that killer instinct you can’t teach. In the end, while stats and accolades provide a framework, the title of “best” is deeply personal, shaped by the moments that stick with you long after the game ends. Whether it’s Bedonia’s rising star or an NBA legend, the essence remains: great handlers don’t just play the game; they define it.