Skip to main content

Dismissive Wembanyama criticism comes off as sour grapes

You're just mad he makes it look easy, but if it were, everyone would do it.
Mar 5, 2026; San Antonio, Texas, USA; San Antonio Spurs forward forward Victor Wembanyama (1) beats a drum and leads fans on a cheer after a victory over the Detroit Pistons at Frost Bank Center. Mandatory Credit: Scott Wachter-Imagn Images
Mar 5, 2026; San Antonio, Texas, USA; San Antonio Spurs forward forward Victor Wembanyama (1) beats a drum and leads fans on a cheer after a victory over the Detroit Pistons at Frost Bank Center. Mandatory Credit: Scott Wachter-Imagn Images | Scott Wachter-Imagn Images

Wait a second. We’re still doing this thing where people look at a 7'5" alien and say, “Well… yeah, he’s supposed to do that,” like the NBA hasn’t spent decades disproving that exact logic? This is a common sentiment expressed about the San Antonio Spurs' star since his rookie season, and you still hear it. As recently as last week, one of ESPN's GetUp panelists said something similar. It's tired.

That argument collapses the moment you apply even a little bit of historical context in the same way the minutes argument did when we peeled back the hidden layers critics didn't want us to find. There is no shortage of 7-footers in NBA history. There is a shortage of 7-footers who can actually do anything remotely similar to what the Alien has been doing.

Wembanyama is nicknamed "The Alien" for a reason

Start with scoring. People act like putting up big numbers at that height is automatic. It’s not. The league has seen players like Rudy Gobert (7'1"), Tyson Chandler (7'0"), Dikembe Mutombo (7'2"), and Mark Eaton (7'0") build entire careers without even sniffing 20 points per game.

These are not scrubs. These are Defensive Player of the Year-level anchors. And still, the offensive ceiling never came close. So no. Height doesn’t hand you buckets. It never has. Then there’s rebounding, which is supposed to be the “easy” one. Just be tall and grab the ball, right? Wrong again.

Dirk Nowitzki (7'0"), Kristaps Porzingis (7'2"), and even Yao Ming (7'6") never averaged 10 rebounds for a career. That’s three completely different archetypes—an all-time scorer, a modern unicorn, and a humongous interior presence—yet none of them hit the supposed baseline people casually expect from bigs.

That’s because rebounding has never been about height alone. It’s positioning. It’s timing. It’s motor. Getting boards is a skill that should be respected. Being tall doesn't mean you'll automatically pull down double digits in that stat. It never has.

Wemby's counting stats put him in rarified air because of his defense

Same story with rim protection. People assume every tall power forward or center is automatically erasing shots at the rim. Meanwhile, players like Nowitzki (sorry to use you twice, Dirk), Nikola Jokic, and Arvydas Sabonis were all legitimately over 7'0" or near it and never averaged 1.5 blocks per game.

These are some of the most skilled big men in league history. They weren’t anything near high-level shot blockers. So the idea that you can just stand there and dominate defensively because you’re tall? That’s not analysis. That’s fiction in a poorly constructed argument to discount what we're seeing on the floor, which is a little unsettling, considering most of us realize Vic is in unprecedented territory.

But wait, there's more! Let's get to the part that really shuts the whole conversation down. The league's history is full of skyscrapers who barely moved the box score at all.

Hasheem Thabeet (7'3"). Sim Bhullar (7'5"). Tacko Fall (7'6"). These guys existed, and there were plenty more of them. They had the height that folks seem to believe guarantees production. However, they still averaged single digits across the board because being tall doesn’t mean you can play. That’s the part people keep skipping. Height gets you in the door. It doesn’t keep you on the floor.

What Vic is doing isn’t normal for a center. It’s not even normal for a superstar. You’re talking about a player who can anchor a defense, generate offense with or without dominating the ball, and warp spacing on both ends at the same time. That kind of two-way gravity doesn’t just show up in the box score, but it shows up everywhere else. Mostly in the win column.

That’s value, and that’s why trying to reduce Victor Wembanyama’s production to “he’s supposed to do that” isn’t just lazy; it ignores the entire history of the sport.

Loading recommendations... Please wait while we load personalized content recommendations