Nikola Jokic and the Shifting Definition of NBA Greatness
Every NBA season, one question rises above the rest: Who is the best player in the league right now? It’s a debate that fuels podcasts, TV shows, and endless social media threads. The answer seems to change with every highlight, every playoff run, and every new statistical revelation. But in recent years, one name has forced the basketball world to reconsider everything it thought it knew about greatness: Nikola Jokic.
Jokic is a two-time MVP, an NBA champion, and the statistical engine behind the Denver Nuggets’ rise. Yet, when the conversation turns to “best player,” his name is often met with qualifiers—best offensive player, best passer, best system hub. Rarely is he simply called the best. Even as he racks up historic achievements, the goalposts move, and the debate shifts. Why?
This article explores the strange, persistent disconnect in how Jokic is discussed, the numbers that challenge old-school thinking, and what his legacy means for the future of the NBA.
The Victor Wembanyama Quote: A Microcosm of the Jokic Debate
The latest chapter in the Jokic discourse came courtesy of Victor Wembanyama, the Spurs’ generational rookie. When asked who the best player in the NBA is, Wemby replied, “I think Jokic is the best offensive player. I don’t think he’s the best player.” Instead, he named Giannis Antetokounmpo and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander as his picks for overall greatness.
That distinction—between offense and “best”—is where the familiar disconnect appears. It implies Jokic’s dominance ends when the conversation shifts away from scoring and playmaking, as if his value doesn’t fully translate to total impact. But what do the numbers really say?
Jokic’s Defensive Impact: The Data vs. the Narrative
For years, Jokic has been portrayed as a defensive liability—a slow-footed center who can be exposed in space and hunted in the playoffs. Yet, advanced metrics paint a very different picture.
According to defensive box plus-minus (DBPM)—a stat that measures how a player improves his team’s defense per 100 possessions based on box score contributions—Jokic owns the second greatest DBPM in NBA history, trailing only Hall of Famer David Robinson. This places Jokic among the most impactful defenders the league has ever tracked.
How? Jokic doesn’t rack up viral chase-down blocks or make highlight-reel defensive plays. Instead, his defense is built on elite positioning, anticipation, rebounding, and play reading. He consistently shuts down passing lanes, ends possessions with rebounds, and directs teammates into the right spots. His impact is subtle, often invisible to casual viewers, but it absolutely shows up in winning.
When analysts say Jokic can’t be the best overall player because of his defense, they’re arguing against one of the strongest statistical counter-cases in modern NBA history.
Why the Disconnect? Media Narratives and Moving Goalposts
The tendency to quietly downgrade Jokic is nothing new. It’s been embedded in the media’s treatment of him for years. Even after his historic championship run—where he led the entire postseason in points, rebounds, and assists—the conversation didn’t end. Instead, the goalposts moved. Praise was always followed by a qualifier: best passer, best offensive hub, best system player. Anything to avoid saying he was simply the best player in basketball.
The Wembanyama quote fits neatly into this long-running habit. That habit reached its most blatant moment during the 2023 MVP race, when ESPN’s Kendrick Perkins suggested that race played a role in Jokic’s MVP support. The implication was clear: Jokic, as a white European star, benefited from biased voting at the expense of Black superstars like Joel Embiid or Giannis.
That statement exploded across NBA media, fundamentally shifting the MVP discussion away from on-court impact and toward cultural narratives. When Perkins later walked back the framing and ESPN distanced itself, the damage was done. The debate was no longer about production, efficiency, or team success. It became about why Jokic shouldn’t win again.
The Qualifiers: Why Jokic Isn’t “Fully” Embraced
Taken together, these moments reveal a consistent pattern. Jokic is acknowledged, but rarely fully embraced. His offense is celebrated. His defense is questioned despite overwhelming evidence. And his accolades are scrutinized in ways that feel uniquely personal and narrative-driven.
Whether it’s a young player splitting hairs, a media personality injecting race into an MVP race, or analysts clinging to outdated ideas of what defensive dominance looks like, the result is the same: Jokic is perpetually asked to prove something no one else is.
Yet the numbers, the film, and the results all point in one direction: Nikola Jokic isn’t just the best offensive player in basketball. He’s one of the most complete and impactful players the NBA has ever seen—even if the conversation keeps trying to pretend otherwise.
How Defense Gets Redefined for Jokic
What makes Jokic’s treatment even more puzzling is how selectively defense gets defined when his name enters the conversation. For other stars, defensive impact is discussed holistically—help rotations, communication, rebounding, scheme discipline. For Jokic, it’s reduced to one narrow question: Can he jump high and block shots at the rim?
That framing ignores how modern NBA defense actually functions. Denver’s entire defensive identity is built around Jokic being in the right place early, reading actions before they develop, and eliminating second chances with elite defensive rebounding. Opponents don’t attack him relentlessly in the playoffs the way true liabilities get hunted. And when they try, Denver adjusts—often successfully because Jokic processes the game faster than the action itself.
Defense isn’t just about erasing mistakes. It’s about preventing them. Few players do that more consistently than Jokic.
Jokic’s Style: Challenging the Aesthetics of Greatness
There’s also an uncomfortable truth that often gets sidestepped: Jokic’s game challenges how people want greatness to look. He isn’t explosive. He doesn’t posture. He doesn’t dominate with physical intimidation. His dominance comes from inevitability.
You know where the ball is going. You know the shot is coming. And you still can’t stop it. That kind of control doesn’t translate cleanly into debate shows or highlight reels, so it gets subconsciously downgraded.
The league has always celebrated force more than inevitability. Even when inevitability is the more devastating trait, Jokic doesn’t overwhelm opponents emotionally. He dissects them intellectually, and that makes his greatness easier to rationalize away. That’s why the MVP conversations around him so often drift away from basketball.
Changing the Criteria: How Jokic Wins, and How the Debate Moves
Instead of asking who bends the game the most, the discourse pivots to voter fatigue, likability, leadership style, or narrative freshness. Jokic keeps winning arguments on the court, so the debates move somewhere else. It’s not that his case is weak—it’s that it’s too strong to dismantle honestly.
When a player consistently ranks at or near the top of every advanced metric, lifts lineups regardless of personnel, and delivers historically efficient postseason runs, the only way to oppose him is to change the criteria entirely.
Even the “two-way” label gets weaponized in a misleading way. Players like Giannis and Shai are rightly praised for their defensive pressure and physical tools, but two-way impact doesn’t require symmetry. Jokic’s offense is so overwhelmingly positive—warping coverage, creating high-efficiency shots for everyone else, and controlling tempo—that it effectively becomes defense. Teams can’t run as freely, can’t get out in transition, and can’t play fast when Jokic dictates pace.
Possession control, shot quality, and decision-making are defensive tools, too—even if they don’t show up as steals or blocks.
The Film: Jokic’s Impact, Play by Play
Watch Jokic play, and you see a master at work. He anticipates rotations, covers for teammates’ mistakes, and rarely gets caught out of position. He’s not a rim protector in the traditional sense, but he’s a possession killer—ending plays with rebounds, tipping loose balls to teammates, and starting fast breaks with outlet passes.
On offense, he’s a hub like no other. Every action flows through his hands, and his vision unlocks scoring chances for everyone. The Nuggets’ system is built around his reads. When he’s on the floor, Denver’s offensive rating soars; when he sits, it plummets.
On defense, Jokic’s presence is felt in subtle ways. He communicates constantly, directs traffic, and covers ground with anticipation rather than speed. Opponents struggle to get second-chance points, and Denver’s defensive rebounding is elite.
The Results: Winning at the Highest Level
The ultimate measure of greatness is winning. Jokic led the Nuggets to a historic championship run, topping the postseason in points, rebounds, and assists. He dismantled every defensive scheme thrown at him, and his impact translated directly into victories.
Denver’s entire system is built around Jokic’s strengths. The team’s offensive and defensive efficiency ranks among the league’s best when he’s on the floor. He elevates teammates, covers for weaknesses, and bends the game in ways few players ever have.
The Future: Jokic’s Legacy and the Evolution of Greatness
Jokic’s legacy is still being written, but the impact is clear. He’s forced the NBA to reconsider what greatness looks like. The old model—explosive athleticism, highlight dunks, physical intimidation—is giving way to a new paradigm: skill, intelligence, inevitability.
Young players like Wembanyama, analysts, and fans are still grappling with how to define “best.” But the numbers, the film, and the results all point to Jokic as the most complete player in the game.
At some point, the conversation has to confront reality rather than aesthetics. If the best offensive player in the world also ranks among the most impactful defenders by the numbers, elevates teammates more than anyone else, and translates that impact directly into wins at the highest level, then separating him from best player discussions becomes an exercise in denial.
Conclusion: The Best Player—By Any Measure
Nikola Jokic doesn’t fit the traditional mold, and that’s precisely why the discourse keeps struggling with him. But history doesn’t care about molds—it cares about impact. Whether the media is ready to admit it or not, Jokic’s impact already places him firmly among the most dominant players the game has ever produced.
The debate will rage on, fueled by highlights, hot takes, and shifting narratives. But on the court, Jokic keeps proving what the numbers have shown for years: He’s not just the best offensive player. He’s the best player, period.
