How should we remember Paul Pierce's playing career?
Last weekend, Paul Pierce went into the Basketball Hall of Fame. His speech is definitely worth watching for several reasons—for one, he casually reveals that he burned down the family house when he was seven, which is something I was not aware of before now! He also thanks the nine teams, in order, that passed on him in the 1998 Draft. (This is one of my favorite clapback formats.) In recent years, the discussion around Pierce has been a noisy one—I’ll get into that a bit later—and it was good to remember the Basketball Stuff, which of course included a few good Roy anecdotes and thorough shoutouts to Kansas. You know we’re here for it!
Pierce went in the Hall of Fame on the first ballot, so his status within the game and with the voters was never in question. I don’t think there was ever any doubt. While Pierce always loomed large in the basketball imagination, especially later in his career as he snapped off great playoff performances on his way to the 2008 Finals MVP, looking back through his career stats can paint a different portrait.
Pierce was a ten-time All-Star, but never finished above seventh in the regular season MVP voting. He made four All-NBA Teams, but never earned a first team selection—he made three third-teams and one second-team in 2009. In the season where Pierce’s PER was the highest of his career (2005-2006), that number was good for 11th in the league. Of course, none of these numbers are anything to sneeze at—Pierce as a player just felt so much bigger than what the stats can tell you.
Part of that was Pierce’s personality, his on-court persona. It was more WWE than NBA. He always had a flair for drama, and I’m not just talking about the time he faked injury in a high-leverage playoff game when he really just needed to poop1. He was activated by the moment. He demanded all of the attention late in games, a trait he would carry into the twilight of his career long after he was a sure-fire NBA starter. This is the Pierce we will remember—all eyes on #34, waiting for something to happen. We all knew what was coming, and it came anyway.
I’m sure you could side-by-side a ton of players from his era and make claims that they were better than Pierce, or more dynamic than Pierce, and that’s probably all true. But in a sense, Pierce was a player ahead of his time, tailor-made for clutch moments, in one way or another. If social media had existed during the height of Pierce’s playing career, maybe Pierce would have been an even bigger star. It’s hard to say.
In his comments, Pierce speaks with a chip on his shoulder about his experiences coming up through the NBA, he also grounds his speech in gratitude. Pierce talks about his near-death experience after being stabbed 11 times at a Boston nightclub. He played 82 games that season, but also dealt with paranoia and deep depression for years afterward. While it’s striking to hear Pierce talk about it so candidly—he even makes a “load management” joke—the tone is revealing of who Pierce has become, and where he’s going. Pierce knows who he is.
In his post-playing career, Pierce has remained visible through his commentary work on ESPN, and recently made news for his firing from that position after he posted social media clips from a raucous house party. Pierce has expressed “no regrets” over the incident, and has promised a huge comeback. The details of this comeback have yet to materialize, but something tells me that Pierce will find a way to become the center of attention once again. He’s teased cannabis and crypto ventures, which could not be more 2021. He’s made memorable appearances and former-player-hosted pods like “All the Smoke” and “Knuckleheads,” and the appetite for this sort of behind-the-scenes gossip has never been higher. Paul Pierce will continue to move the needle and—let’s face it—he wasn’t really the best analyst anyway.
Personally, I’ll always remember Pierce as a baby-faced freshman at Late Night, throwing down monster dunks in the layup line at Late Night in 1995. I was instantly mesmerized—that he was from Los Angeles suggested an extra layer of sizzle, and held a lot of weight in my childhood imagination. And, to be sure, Pierce flashed plenty of athletic prowess at Kansas, but he wouldn’t be known for that in the NBA. He reinvented himself as a below-the-rim bucket getter; Paul Pierce found his pocket in the game, and went to work. It’ll be fascinating to see what he does next.
There has been conversation about whether Pierce’s confession is in jest, and I’m going to let the reader decide based on what’s in their heart.