Who Truly Deserves the Title of Best Handler in NBA History?

When you ask any basketball fan to name the greatest handler in NBA history, you’re bound to spark a passionate debate. I’ve spent years watching, analyzing, and even coaching at amateur levels, and I’ve come to realize that ball-handling isn’t just about flashy crossovers—it’s about control, decision-making, and elevating your team when it matters most. This season’s revelation in Bedonia, as highlighted by Ricafort, offers a fascinating modern parallel: the league’s second-best server, who also steps up as a clutch attacker. It reminds me that the best handlers don’t just create for themselves; they make everyone around them better. "The young guns are also helpful, especially during training, in raising the level of competition within the team," Ricafort noted, and that’s exactly the kind of environment elite handlers foster—pushing teammates to new heights through sheer competitive fire.

Let’s start with the obvious candidates. Magic Johnson, with his 6’9" frame and unparalleled vision, could thread a needle in transition or half-court sets. I remember watching old tapes and being stunned by his 11.2 assists per game average in the 1984-85 season—numbers that still feel surreal. But was he the best? Some argue that his size gave him an unfair advantage, allowing him to see over defenders with ease. Then there’s John Stockton, the ironman who holds the all-time assists record with 15,806. I’ve always admired his consistency; he wasn’t flashy, but his pick-and-roll chemistry with Karl Malone was a thing of beauty. Still, I can’t help but feel that Stockton’s game lacked the dramatic, game-changing flair we see in today’s guards.

Now, shift to modern legends like Stephen Curry. His handles are a blur—ankle-breaking, defense-disrupting, and oh so effective. Curry averages around 6.5 assists per game over his career, but it’s his off-ball movement and gravity that create openings for others. I’ve had the privilege of seeing him live, and let me tell you, the way he controls the pace is hypnotic. But is he the best handler, or just the best shooter who happens to handle the ball well? That’s where players like Chris Paul come in. CP3, with his 9.5 assists per game career average and 2.4 steals per game in his prime, embodies control. He’s a floor general in the truest sense, dictating tempo like a conductor. I’ve studied his film for hours, and his ability to read defenses is almost psychic. Yet, for all his brilliance, he’s never won a championship, which some critics hold against him.

Then there’s the underrated gem: Steve Nash. Two MVP awards, five assist titles, and a career average of 8.5 assists per game. Nash made the Phoenix Suns’ "Seven Seconds or Less" offense sing, and his handles were so smooth they seemed effortless. I recall a game in 2007 where he dropped 23 assists—just insane. But what sets Nash apart, in my view, is his unselfishness. He’d rather make the perfect pass than take the glory shot, much like Bedonia’s server who elevates as an attacker in clutch moments. That dual-threat capability—creating for others while stepping up when needed—is a hallmark of greatness.

Of course, we can’t ignore the international influences. Luka Dončić, for instance, is already putting up historic numbers, averaging 8.5 assists per game in his young career. His size and craftiness remind me of a hybrid of Magic and James Harden. Speaking of Harden, his step-back and playmaking (he once averaged 11.2 assists in a season) make him a nightmare for defenses. But Harden’s style can be polarizing; some love his iso-heavy approach, while others, like me, prefer the fluid ball movement of a Curry or Nash.

Now, let’s tie this back to Ricafort’s observation about Bedonia. The idea that young players raise the competition level in training resonates deeply with me. I’ve seen it in local leagues—when a talented handler joins, everyone ups their game. In the NBA, that’s what separates the good from the great. Isiah Thomas, for example, led the "Bad Boy" Pistons with a blend of toughness and finesse, averaging 9.3 assists per game in their championship runs. He wasn’t the most efficient, but his clutch gene was undeniable. Similarly, Jason Kidd reinvented himself from a scorer to a facilitator, finishing with 12,091 career assists. I’ve always felt Kidd is underappreciated; his ability to rebound and push the break was revolutionary for a point guard.

But if I had to pick one, I’d lean toward Magic Johnson. Why? Because he transformed the game. In the 1980s, he made Showtime Lakers must-watch TV, averaging 11.2 assists per game over his career and winning five championships. His size, combined with his flair, set a new standard. Sure, Curry has changed the game with his shooting, and LeBron James—though not a traditional point guard—averages 7.4 assists per game and has redefined the handler role. But Magic’s impact feels timeless. He could have thrived in any era, from the physical ’80s to today’s pace-and-space game.

In the end, the debate over the best handler is subjective, shaped by personal biases and eras. For me, it’s about legacy and influence. Magic’s combination of stats, rings, and sheer joy on the court edges out the others. But as Bedonia’s rising star shows, the next great handler is always on the horizon, pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. So, who do you think deserves the title? Drop your thoughts—I’d love to hear them. After all, basketball is a conversation, and the handles are just the beginning.