Dikembe Mutombo’s lasting impression on NBA brethren: ‘We were all better in our existence’

It was 1996 when Dikembe Mutombo came to Atlanta in free agency, and by then, Hawks forward Tyrone Corbin knew that the 7-foot-2 center was more than just the game’s best defensive player. 

Throughout much of his first six years in the league, Mutombo spread the word that he was determined to build a hospital in his homeland, the Democratic Republic of Congo. As he barnstormed through the NBA, famously wagging his finger at blocked shots, Mutombo would pull aside colleagues and tell them of his vision.

“Even before I became his teammate, I knew of his ambition to build that hospital,’’ Corbin said. “That was his passion and he let everyone know it. He wanted a hospital that was open to everybody in the Congo. And when he became a teammate, we all learned about every detail — the lack of access, how important it would be to the people, what needed to be done.’’

As his NBA resumé grew with All-Star honors, Defensive Player of the Year awards and NBA Finals appearances, his humanitarian efforts never wavered. In 2007, Mutombo’s passion project came to fruition: He opened a hospital in Kinshasa, located just outside his hometown. He named the hospital after his mother, Biamba Marie Mutombo, and the 300-bed facility has treated more than half a million patients. Mutombo funded $15 million of the $29 million project.

On Monday, Mutombo died in Atlanta at 58 from brain cancer, and when his former teammates, coaches and executives remembered what a great player he was, they always stopped themselves for fear of sounding trivial. Each of them noted that Mutombo wasn’t defined by basketball or his athletic accomplishments. His impact went deeper.

“He was a Hall of Fame player and a legendary humanitarian,’’ said Jeff Van Gundy, who coached Mutombo for three seasons in Houston. “He was really a force of nature.’’

On the court, he was an eight-time All-Star and won Defensive Player of the Year four times, a feat matched only by Ben Wallace and Rudy Gobert. He led the league in blocks five consecutive seasons and in rebounds twice. Off the court, he built a hospital and funded schools in the Congo and worked with the World Health Organization and UNICEF to fight polio in Africa through vaccine awareness. The NBA honored him with the Walter J. Kennedy Citizenship Award twice, in 2001 and 2009, and in 1999 he won the President’s Service Award, the highest honor given for volunteer work.

“Great competitor, great player, but it was the human being … you can’t talk about him without talking about him as a human being,’’ said Bernie Bickerstaff, who drafted Mutombo fourth overall in 1991 as Denver’s general manager. “We were all better in our existence just by being around him.’’

He played for six teams (Denver, Atlanta, Philadelphia, New Jersey, New York and Houston) over 18 seasons before retiring at 42 in 2009 after injuring his left knee against Portland in the playoffs. Denver and Atlanta have retired his No. 55, and in 2015 he was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame. 

In his Hall of Fame acceptance speech, he thanked his older brother, Ilo, for introducing him to basketball at age 17. That introduction was forcing him, against his will, to the basketball court to take advantage of his height.

It would be an introduction that changed the world.

On the eve of the 1991 NBA Draft, Bickerstaff received a late-night phone call from Georgetown coach John Thompson, who delivered some concerning news: The Sacramento Kings had called Thompson to get insight on one of his players, Mutombo. 

Thompson, who was close friends with Bickerstaff, knew the Nuggets were dead set on drafting Mutombo with the fourth pick. The problem: Sacramento was slated to pick third. 

It made for a frenetic draft day, with Bickerstaff sending smoke screens to Sacramento that he had a deal with New Jersey to move up to No. 2.

“Sacramento was playing a lot of games,’’ Bickerstaff said. “They called John the night before … and I don’t know if they were really going to take him, or they were just trying to get compensation for passing on him.’’

Bickerstaff held his breath as the draft transpired. Charlotte took UNLV forward Larry Johnson first. New Jersey followed, taking Georgia Tech point guard Kenny Anderson. Sacramento took Syracuse forward Billy Owens third.

Bickerstaff and the Nuggets front office were so ecstatic that they talked to Mutombo’s agent, David Falk, about signing Mutombo to a 10-year contract. But the Nuggets’ ownership group ended up backing down.

Bickerstaff said the Nuggets immediately knew they had drafted not only a special player, but a special person.

“He made us laugh every day … every single day,’’ Bickerstaff said. “That was just his personality. He was consistent in everything he did. He was the same guy every day.’’

As Mutombo began to change the Nuggets with his defensive play — he was named an All-Star his rookie season when he averaged 16.6 points and 12.3 rebounds — Bickerstaff noticed Mutombo was about changing more than his team. Mutombo educated him on his upbringing in the Congo, the conditions his homeland faced, and how he vowed to help.

“That’s who he was. No one asked him to do those things — it was just an innate quality within him,’’ Bickerstaff said. “That’s who he was — a good guy. He was about people. And he was about where he was from, and he felt deeply that he needed to present an alternative way of living for them.’’

But first, there were memories to be made in the NBA.

In the Nuggets’ historic upset of the SuperSonics in 1994, Mutombo frustrated Seattle star Shawn Kemp and had 22 blocks in Denver’s three wins. (John W. McDonough / Sports Illustrated via Getty Images)

One of the most iconic images in Denver Nuggets history is of Mutombo on his back, under the basket, clutching the game ball while crying in elation after Denver upset top-seeded Seattle in the 1994 playoffs. It is so popular that Denver resident George Karl says he sees replays of it around 1,000 times a year. 

“I leave the room before I can watch it,’’ Karl said. “Or I close my eyes. I’m tired of it.’’

Karl, of course, was the coach of the top-seeded SuperSonics at the time, and the image of Mutombo squeezing the ball and celebrating stings as much as the memory of what the center did in the series. Mutombo had 31 blocks, a record for a five-game series, as the eighth-seeded Nuggets beat a Sonics team that went 63-19 with Gary Payton and Shawn Kemp.

“He frustrated Shawn, and probably everyone else a little bit,’’ Karl said. “As the series went on, it seemed like he had more control of the series.’’

In the deciding Game 5, Mutombo had eight points, 15 rebounds and eight blocks as the Nuggets won 98-94 in overtime.

“One of the biggest losses in my life, to be honest with you,’’ Karl said. “It was miserable.’’

Bickerstaff said that series cemented the value of Mutombo. While LaPhonso Ellis and Reggie Williams got the headlines for scoring, it was Mutombo who set the tone and forged the identity of the Nuggets.

“You could see he had the respect of (the Sonics),’’ Bickerstaff said. “When they were going to the basket, you could tell they were thinking about him … and when you start to think, that’s not good.’’

Denver advanced to play Utah, and lost in seven games and didn’t win another playoff series until 2009. 

Bickerstaff has no hesitation pointing to the reason for the long playoff drought: He couldn’t prevent Mutombo from leaving in free agency in 1996.

“My biggest regret, no doubt about it,’’ Bickerstaff said. “It got down to money. He wanted to stay, his agent was working with us, but we couldn’t make it happen. Losing him was the beginning of our demise.’’

Mutombo was headed to Atlanta, where he and his right index finger would forge the next iconic images.

When he got to Atlanta in 1996, Mutombo was already fond of making his defensive presence known. He would shake his head in disgust at people who would challenge him at the rim, or try to loft a shot over his long arms. 

“He was good at letting you know: This is where I reside,’’ Bickerstaff said.  

But in Atlanta, Mutombo felt he needed something more emphatic, something more visible. In 1997, the finger wag — a back and forth motion of his index finger — was born to accompany blocked shots. 

Later that year, the finger wag became famous. At the All-Star Game in February, Mutombo and Michael Jordan had a back-and-forth about Jordan never dunking on Mutombo. Then in the 1997 playoffs, Jordan and Mutombo met at the rim in Game 5.

“He and Michael had gotten into it about Mike never dunking on him, it was a big thing,’’ Corbin said. “And we got paired against Chicago in the playoffs and defensively we always funneled things to Dikembe. So, I told him — if Mike beats me on defense, he’s only going to beat me baseline, so be there quick, because you know how fast he can get up.’’

Corbin imitated Mutombo’s deep, gravely voice: ‘Don’t worry, Ty, I got him. I got him.’

“Sure enough, I forced Mike baseline, and Mike did his thing and Deke was a little late,’’ Corbin said. “And Mike got him.’’

Jordan famously did Mutombo’s signature move back at him, waving his finger at Mutombo.

“All I could hear was ‘Arrrrrrrrrrgh,’’’ Corbin said, laughing. 

Van Gundy said Mutombo’s finger wag was always done in good taste and never to demean anyone. He thought the NBA went too far when it instructed officials to assess technical fouls when he brought it out.

“He used it appropriately, and usually saved it for a really good block,’’ Van Gundy said. “Now sometimes, did I wish he would have immediately converted to the other end? Yes. But it was his thing.’’

Mutombo finished with 3,289 blocks, second most in NBA history, but Van Gundy says the blocks only tell a part of his impact defensively.

“His shot blocking has rightfully garnered a lot of attention, because people think about the finger wag, but what is overlooked is the rebounder he was,’’ Van Gundy said. “The guy cleaned everything up. Just everything. He could both alter a shot, get back, and rebound. Usually a guy can do one, or the other. With him, it was both.’’

And by the time he finished with the Rockets in 2009, after appearing in the NBA Finals with Philadelphia in 2001 and with New Jersey in 2003, he was excelling as both a basketball player and an ambassador for basketball.

In 2008, at a Houston Rockets benefit gala called Tux and Tennies, Mutombo showed then-Rockets owner Leslie Alexander a video of hospital conditions in Congo. 

Alexander remembered seeing images of patients bringing their own mattresses to lay on. There was no medicine. And not enough doctors. He wrote a check for $500,000 for Mutombo’s hospital. 

“It was the passion and the way he spoke about his continent,’’ Van Gundy said. “He made everyone more empathic about his people, and his cause. And it wasn’t easy for him. It required hours and hours of his time, his energy, his resources. And this was all in-season. And he was doing both at an extraordinarily high level.’’

In 2007, he was invited to attend President George W. Bush’s State of the Union address, during which he called Mutombo a “good-hearted man” and that the United States was proud to call him a citizen.  

Van Gundy said he could only think of Roberto Clemente, the Hall of Fame baseball player, for comparison of a standout athlete/philanthropist. 

The breadth of Mutombo’s contributions, on and off the basketball court, are why so many searched for the right words to describe him. They would laugh about his laugh, marvel at his skill and pause to put his charitable work in perspective. 

“He was about helping people,’’ Bickerstaff said. “He was the truth.’’

Corbin said while Mutombo took on so many large projects, such as hospitals and schools in Africa, he also didn’t shy away from the small moments. There were countless occasions when he saw Mutombo interact with ordinary people, and make their day.

“There was no way you could not like him,’’ Corbin said. “He would meet people who didn’t know him and he would make them comfortable, either by saying something, or shaking their hand or doing something that made them at ease. You felt him, and you felt that he cared. Because he did care.

“He decided that if he was going to impact somebody’s day, he was going to impact it in a good way.’’

 (Photo of  Dikemebe Mutombo: Juan Ocampo / NBAE via Getty Images)