Tag: Hall of Fame

Reggie Cheryl Miller

Video: Reggie Miller thanks sister, admits he pushed off on Greg Anthony as he enters Hall of Fame


Reggie Miller gave a super speech upon his induction to the Naismith Hall of Fame Friday night. He was warm, funny, self-deprecating, and yet still so confident in his own abilities and impishly proud of his constant needling. He told stories about being abused by Michael Jordan and what the game has meant to him. He also shared a very emotional moment with his sister, Cheryl.

Miller also finally owned up to pushing off on Greg Anthony in the 1995 Eastern Conference Finals, but justified it by talking about how Michael Jordan, who was in attendance presenting Phil Knight, also did it “all the time.”

It was a funny, touching tribute from one of the best three-point shooters of all time. Reggie Miller finally got his moment in the sun, and he handled it with grace, class, and still managed to entertain everyone watching. So much like his career.

The Inbounds: For the 500th time, we need an NBA Hall of Fame

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When I make this column, as I do every year, I go through the usual flip side. Do we really need a Hall of Fame? Is there anyone who should be included in a Hall of Fame for the NBA that is not or will not be in the Naismith? Is recognition in the Naismith not enough accomplishment? Is there really the demand to satisfy fans desire to attend a NBA-only Hall? What’s the problem?

The problem is not that Reggie Miller, Don Nelson, and Ralph Sampson are being inducted tonight alongside people whose accomplishments were not in the NBA. That’s not it at all. I’m not arguing for the elimination of the Naismith Hall, if anything, I want there to be a higher level of regard to those who have genuinely contributed to the sport, not just the league. But to lump the NBA in with every other organized basketball entity on the planet is to insult both sides. The NBA is its own creature, far removed from Europe’s basketball cultural evolution, profoundly different from the NCAA’s particular brand of madness, and not at all truly entwined with international competition.

It’s its own thing.

And it’s a big thing.

When you think of basketball, you’re either going to think of the NCAA tournament or the NBA. I’m not here to try and inflate the importance of pro basketball over college. March Madness is a wonderful entity and should have its own recognition of greatness.

Funny thing. It does.

College gets to celebrate its wonderful moments and players, the people who form the tapestry of its rich and legendary history. Why doesn’t the NBA? Why should the NBA run cover for all forms of basketball? Again, I don’t mind the association of the NBA with the Hall. It’s good that the NBA brings some attention which gets drawn to the other inductees whose accomplishments may not be as well known but are often equal or greater to those of the millionaire superstars molded to statue.

But it’s the lack of a Hall for the NBA, without the ability to recognize people who clearly belong, but likely won’t because the Naismith is trying to cram in all of basketball. What winds up happening is worthy people from outside of the NBA who would go overlooked otherwise get in, while completely worthy people from the ranks of the NBA are excluded.

I’ll admit it, I love Bill Simmons’ Pyramid idea for the Hall. It’s innovative, and it serves two purposes at once. It allows us to induct those who are worthy of enshrinement, but not next to the greatest of the greats, while providing an opportunity to set those players aside.

Reggie Miller is entering the Hall alongside Phil Knight, for crying out loud. I don’t have an issue with Knight being inducted, You can’t argue the impact he’s had on the game. He belongs in the Naismith. But Reggie freaking Miller deserves to enter enshrinement alongside Nelson and Sampson, Wilkes and Daniels, by themselves. Their contributions to the sport of basketball may be equal, but not to the NBA.

I’ve long held that the best thing about the NBA is that you can’t take it too seriously. This is a league of tape-delay Finals, coked out history, flopping franchises, lottery conspiracy theories, trade vetoes and Planet Lovetron. That’s what makes this league so great. The sheer absurdity of it. But you can’t have all that without also recognizing the greatness and history of the playoffs and Finals. Jordan, Magic, Bird, Kareem, Wilt, Olajuwon, Russell, Moses, Walton, Duncan, Shaq, Kobe, Dirk, LeBron, Wade. That’s a whole other level of basketball greatness and that’s just scratching the surface. The league has been around for over 60 years. It’s got a story to tell, and it deserves a building to tell it in. It deserves to recognize the best of the best, and the great players and people who contributed to what it has become.

The NBA having its own Hall won’t lead to total destruction of the Naismith. Basketball culture won’t crumble into a sponsored dystopia. (Though you can bet the league will make a huge profit on it that way — and hey, maybe that way we can avoid another lockout!) Everything will be fine if we recognize the accomplishments of those to the sport of basketball, and those specifically to the National Basketball Association. We lose nothing, we gain a lot.

We live in a world where stories are told in more volume and with more accessibility than at any time in our history as a species. We’re not fighting for bandwidth. There’s room in the basketball collective consciousness for both the Naismith Hall and the NBA Hall.

The league too often has deferred throughout its history, has shied away from flexing its muscle (unless it’s in a labor dispute). It’s time. The NBA’s worthy of its own Hall of Fame.

Let’s build it.

The Inbounds: Reggie Miller was the thorn you loved or hated watching stick


There’s a freaking movie about how Reggie Miller made life hell for the Knicks. That’s how legendary that rivalry was. But it wasn’t just the moments, the trash talk, the shots or the points. To be a truly worthy hero, or a villain, you have to be good enough for the damage inflicted to seem like something more than just “one of those things.” This wasn’t just a player have a great series or series of series against one team. It was a great player who happened to just stab one team in particular in the midsection. Over. And over. That’s what makes it legend.

Reggie Miller enters the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame, a year later than he needed to, honestly, and to much less fanfare than many of his contemporaries. Miller’s reputation doesn’t really precede him. Whether it was his style and approach, playing in Indiana, or something else, Miller never really hit household-name level. The fact that he spent a huge portion of his prime playing against the GOAT has something to do with that, yet another wonderful player who was swallowed up in Jordan’s shadow. But for those that watched him, they understand what he was able to do during the course of his eighteen seasons in the NBA.

Something that stands out when you look at Miller’s Basketball-Reference page? All eighteen of those seasons with one team. How many Hall of Famers from this current era are going to be able to make that claim? Miller could have gone chasing a ring in New York or with Chicago or whoever, but he stuck with Indiana and they enjoyed a prolonged series of success featuring multiple trips deep into the playoffs.

And that kind of leads us back to the original topic. You can torture a team from multiple teams, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as seeing that same uniform, over and over, as representing what it means to wear that jersey. Not just for the Knicks, but all the fans who throughout his stellar career cursed the sight of him in that white jersey jogging backwards with his mouth open. It was a special kind of irritant.

Miller stands in the Hall not only for how he lifted up the Pacers and put them into an era of relevance in modern times, but for how he burned the other teams around him down to the ground, then vandalized the historical markers where they once stood. The man jawed with Jordan, for cripes’ sake. He made famous the choke signal. He put Spike Lee’s fandom on a new level. He is a huge reason why if a team is up seven with time winding down, you shouldn’t leave the channel for any reason, ever. It wasn’t just what he did for his own team. It’s what he did to the other guys.

In a way, Miller enters the Hall of Fame at a time where that identity is fading. Team rivalries are starting to explode, replicating the star-studded Lakers-Celtics matchups, even if none are as great. Boston-Miami, Chicago-Miami, New York-Brooklyn, LA-LA, Spurs-Mavericks, Lakers-Celtics, Lakers-Thunder, the list goes on and on. But having that one guy who just murders you on his own is getting harder and harder to find. Miller was never the best player in the game, but he was often close. LeBron doesn’t really hit that level, because he’s always one step above with his talent.

We’re seeing the death of the villain/one-team hero. It’s not worse or better than these epic battles with individual moments you remember (“That Battier three,” “the James Harden finger gunz shot,” etc.). But it does make you long for the days of Miller and how he would just murder a team until the fans were a blubbering mess that would forever spit when his name was mentioned again. We need more of that drama, more of that kind of good vs. evil matchups.

Of course, you look at all that and you realize that Miller never won an NBA title. Maybe the two were related. Stayed with his team, tortured his rivals, played the good guy to his fans, the bad guy to everyone else, and never walked out with the ring.

But then again, there’s something pretty cool about being remembered as “that guy.” Here’s to “that guy,” Reggie Miller.