As I sat watching the Eastbourne Open highlights last week, something remarkable happened during the runner-up speech that got me thinking about jersey numbers in professional sports. The 20-year-old tennis star broke down in tears while acknowledging the weight of becoming the first from her country to reach a tour-level final, and it struck me how much significance we attach to numbers and firsts in sports. This emotional moment reminded me why I've always been fascinated by the legacy of specific jersey numbers in the NBA, particularly number 22 - a digit that has been worn by some truly exceptional athletes throughout league history.
Having followed basketball for over two decades, I've developed this peculiar habit of tracking jersey numbers and their wearers. There's something magical about how a simple number can become so intertwined with a player's legacy. When we talk about number 22 in the NBA context, we're discussing what I consider to be one of the most underrated numbers in basketball history. Unlike the flashier numbers like 23 or 32, number 22 doesn't always get the recognition it deserves, but my goodness, the talent that has worn this number is absolutely staggering.
Let me start with perhaps the most iconic number 22 in recent memory - Elgin Baylor. Now here's a player who fundamentally changed how the game was played. Baylor averaged 27.4 points and 13.5 rebounds throughout his incredible career with the Lakers, numbers that still boggle my mind when I look at them today. What many younger fans might not realize is that Baylor was essentially doing things in the 1960s that players would struggle to replicate today. His body control, creative finishes, and aerial artistry made him must-watch television before that term even existed in sports broadcasting. I've spent countless hours watching old footage of Baylor, and each time I'm more convinced that he's one of the most disrespected legends in basketball history.
Then there's the case of Clyde Lovellette, who wore number 22 while winning championships with both the Minneapolis Lakers and Boston Celtics. Lovellette was what I'd call a prototype of the modern big man - he could score inside, rebound effectively, and had a decent mid-range game for his era. His career average of 17 points and 9.5 rebounds per game doesn't fully capture his impact, especially during those championship runs where he often provided crucial scoring off the bench.
The 1980s gave us two phenomenal number 22s that I absolutely must mention - Larry Nance and Mike Gminski. Nance, in particular, holds a special place in my basketball memory because of his incredible athleticism and defensive prowess. I still remember watching him average 2.2 blocks per game while shooting over 54% from the field during his prime years with the Cavaliers. His son playing in the league today is wonderful, but for my money, the original Larry Nance was something truly special. Meanwhile, Gminski provided reliable scoring and rebounding for several teams, peaking with averages of 16.9 points and 8.4 rebounds during the 1986-87 season with the 76ers.
Moving into more contemporary times, we have to discuss Michael Redd, who might be one of the most underappreciated scorers I've ever watched. When Redd got hot from beyond the arc, it was pure basketball poetry. His 2006-07 season where he averaged 26.7 points per game while shooting nearly 39% from three-point range was simply masterful. I've always felt that if injuries hadn't hampered his career, we'd be talking about Redd in the same breath as some of the all-time great shooters.
The international flavor of number 22 brings us to players like Dražen Petrović, whose tragic death cut short what was shaping up to be a Hall of Fame career. Petrović's final season in the NBA saw him average 22.3 points while shooting a ridiculous 52% from the field and 45% from three-point range. Those numbers still give me chills when I think about what could have been.
What fascinates me about tracking these number 22 wearers is noticing patterns in their games. Many of them shared this versatile scoring ability combined with solid defensive fundamentals. Players like Eddie Jones, who wore 22 during his stint with the Heat, exemplified this perfectly - a two-way player who could light up the scoreboard while locking down the opponent's best perimeter threat. Jones averaged 2.7 steals per game during the 1999-2000 season, a number that still seems almost impossible in today's game.
The legacy continues with contemporary players like Jimmy Butler, who wore number 22 earlier in his career. Butler's journey from late first-round pick to superstar is the kind of story that makes basketball so compelling to follow. His work ethic and two-way play feel like a direct continuation of what earlier number 22s established as the standard for this jersey number.
Reflecting on all these players while considering that emotional tennis moment I witnessed, it occurs to me that jersey numbers in sports carry weight beyond mere identification. They become part of an athlete's identity, part of their legacy. The number 22 in the NBA represents what I'd call the "quiet excellence" - players who may not always grab the headlines but whose contributions fundamentally shape the game. Each player who wore this number added to its legacy, creating this beautiful tapestry of basketball history that continues to evolve with each new season. As I look toward the future, I can't help but wonder which rising star will next take up the mantle of number 22 and add their unique chapter to this ongoing story of basketball excellence.
