There are dozens – perhaps hundreds, maybe thousands – of reasons why Gregg Popovich is the best professional basketball coach. But there is one I keep circling back to.
But before we get rolling on this, let’s set the terms of what I mean by “best professional basketball coach.” If you want to throw out names like Red Auerbach, Phil Jackson, Pat Riley, or any one of about a dozen international coaching legends, I won’t argue. This isn’t about splitting hairs or coming up with a “ranking” or anything like that. This is about sustained excellence and what that requires – professionally and emotionally.
Popovich’s Wikipedia page speaks for itself. Over nearly three decades of coaching, his teams won nearly 1,600 basketball games – 170 of them in the playoffs. He led the San Antonio Spurs to five championships and 22 consecutive appearances in the postseason. Meanwhile, every other franchise shuffled coaches around in an endless series of musical chairs. According to The Athletic, 303 coaching changes took place during his 29 years with the Spurs.
Why was Pop so successful – so consistently, relentlessly successful – in such a ruthlessly competitive field with notoriously impulsive bosses holding them to impossible standards? What made him so special?
It’s because at no point over those three decades did Pop buy into the hype. He never viewed himself as special. He knew he was just as replaceable and just as beholden to luck and whim as the next coach.
What made Pop different? In his own words, the Spurs had Tim Duncan. But that’s not the whole story. It was the level of humility with which Pop coached – not in the “fake humble” sense of the word, either.
Humility in Pop’s case means the way he adjusted and adapted based on the best available information and the clearest path forward. He didn’t chart a straight course to navigate a winding highway. He turned when the road required him to.
In the early days of Spurs dominance, the squad was more than comfortable slugging it out in rock fights where the final score ended in a combined total of under 170. Pop leaned into the ultra-physical rules and routinely put forth the most dominant defensive squads each year – anchored by Duncan, of course.
As the league evolved away from hand checks and paint touches to pace-and-space and ball movement, the Spurs evolved along with it. A Pop team was always just ahead of the curve. The Spurs gradually shed the slug-it-out approach in favor of the most beautiful version of basketball many of us have ever seen – anchored by Duncan, of course.
Most coaches know how to coach “their way.” Triangles only. Strong-side overload defensive strategies. Five-out on offense. Threes, threes, and more threes. Coaches with clear philosophies can be successful, but on their terms with perfect roster constructions for what they believe in. Pop’s way? Whatever works. That’s humility.
The other thing that happened during Pop’s tenure was the explosion of international basketball. While many franchises held outdated and at-times pig-headed views on international prospects, Pop welcomed them with open arms. It was a philosophical decision to bring in as many different cultures and viewpoints as possible. He believed it made the team more interesting. He was right. Any team could’ve brought in Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili, Boris Diaw, Patty Mills, and on and on. The Spurs weren’t interested in the tired debates. They cared more about building something real, something meaningful. Something where players from every conceivable background will still get together for dinner long after they hung up their sneakers for good.
None of it happens without Duncan, obviously. Duncan allowed Pop to coach the way he saw fit and never made the kinds of superstar demands his talent would otherwise have allowed him to make. The fact that these two men found each other at their respective points of their basketball journey is the ultimate example of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts.
Will Mitch Johnson and Victor Wembanyama develop a similar kinship? It’s a high bar, even for the 7-foot-5 Wemby to clear. But they’ll have a better chance than most. While every other franchise is busy firing coaches at the drop of a hat, the Spurs’ brass had a front-row view of what it’s like to watch basketball in the glow of a three-decade lottery ticket.
The humor, the gruffness, the zero-tolerance for nonsense, the courage to speak on important issues outside of basketball – this is all part of the package. Take the work seriously, but don’t take yourself seriously. Be confident, but don’t believe the world begins and ends with you. Coach with humility.
Sounds easy, doesn’t it? It’s not. It’s hard work. Very few people can be this competitive and this humble – two personality traits often in direct conflict with one another. Find the right balance and maybe you can coach your way to five titles and 1,600 wins. Just draft Tim Duncan first.
