How Dikembe Mutombo defended the basket, hope and happiness

Dikembe Mutombo, who is known for blocking all comers on the pitch, welcomed him and helped him as best he could.

He was, of course, best known for his finger wagging. The no-no-no – the gesture that became his trademark – set him apart. It was a clear warning to opposing shooters never to challenge him by trying to score, especially in his limited space in the shadow of Mount Mutombo.

He wagged his index finger, partly playfully, partly sternly, like a scolding parent, immediately after blocking a shot and sending the basketball into orbit, often toward the fifth row. The fans immediately responded with the finger. It happened many times, a bad scene caused by one of the greatest defensive players in NBA history.

…which was really a strange contrast. Dikembe Mutombo the professional embraced and perfected the art of rejection while Dikembe Mutombo the human was about acceptance.

He spent much of his life in the middle of that pendulum, a sweet spot that endeared him to so many. For 18 seasons, Mutombo was among the sport’s most popular players, making room for a 7-foot-2 center who didn’t play above the rim, spin in the air, score in huddles or sell sneakers.

But by blocking shots, rebounding and uniting the teams he played for, Mutombo still forged a connection with fans. They witnessed the joy and determination he showed on the defensive side of the field, how he defended the ring, how he sacrificed for the goal of victory, and that endeared him to them.

This was best captured in 1994 by John Elway, the great NFL quarterback of the Denver Broncos, who played hype man before Game 3 of the Nuggets’ first-round playoff series against the Seattle SuperSonics and in the public address at McNichols Arena announced, “Let’s get ready for… Mu-tom-bo!”

The Nuggets and Mutombo, their young center, rallied to win that series, becoming the first No. 8 seed to defeat a No. 1 seed, evidenced at the buzzer of Game 5 by the image of Mutombo on his back, the clutching the ball and releasing a ball at the same time, uncontrollable laughter and screaming are indelibly underlined.

It was that unmistakable voice that accompanied the finger-wagging, the deep, sonorous and authentic bass, flavored with a dialect from the Democratic Republic of Congo, that captivated and held your attention as long as you were in his company. If you were lucky, that was a good amount of time, all well spent.

That’s because Mutombo, the person, the friend, the tireless NBA ambassador and devoted teammate, was pure. He could not be compromised or pampered. His character was impenetrable. In this private life, Mutombo was not the center of attention. He was a point guard and wanted to know how he could help.

I once told his wife, Rose, that although there are zero perfect people on the planet, she should know something about her husband, who was, in some ways, a loner:

“Everyone loves Dikembe,” I said.

That wasn’t an exaggeration. That was truth to power. Those who met Mutombo felt great about the experience, the man and his purpose in life. He touched people so much, even strangers. His spirit and warmth, made unforgettable by that voice, are etched in your day.

And this wasn’t limited to a single team, a single city or even a single country: Mutombo’s impact reached beyond borders. His devotion to his homeland was passionate, a country that, like many others in Africa, was suffering hardships caused in part by changes in government and, in this particular case, a change in the name of Zaire.

Dikembe Mutombo is welcomed during the 2005 Basketball Without Borders African Camp in Soweto, Johannesburg, South Africa.

Mutombo often returned after gaining fame and enormous wealth, eager to help those less fortunate. As one of ten children, he took many family members, including distant ones, into his own home in the USA and gave them a better life.

Then he soon took on a project of much more gigantic proportions: building a hospital, named after his late mother, on the outskirts of Kinshasa, where medical care was lacking. Mutombo initially wanted to be a doctor – he attended Georgetown on an academic scholarship – before his size led him in a different direction… but ultimately made a hospital financially possible.

He spent millions of his own money and successfully raised the rest because donors rightly trusted him and recognized his hope and dream. The 170-bed Biamba Marie Mutombo Hospital and Research Center was the first medical facility to be built in the area in over 40 years. It saved lives, perhaps thousands.

He did not limit himself to the Congo. He adopted all of Africa, making trips to war-torn South Sudan, Senegal and wherever he was needed, often at his own expense. Mutombo was always on the plane and was known by his first name by pilots and flight attendants. Soon, the NBA took notice and Mutombo became the league’s first global ambassador, the man on the front lines working to promote and promote the game of basketball.

Soon everyone noticed. Mutombo has been honored by dozens of global organizations, the Special Olympics, the United Nations and anyone with a humanitarian goal and peace mission.

He inspired the wave of basketball talent from all corners of Africa, including Toronto Raptors president Masai Ujiri (the two have been partners in countless basketball endeavors over the years), Sixers center Joel Embiid and Bucks forward Giannis Antetokounmpo, whose roots are in Nigeria lie.

I last saw him at the 2022 NBA All-Star Weekend in Cleveland. The handshake, the hug and the voice, all too familiar. We both had a story. As a reporter, I followed him to South Africa to cover his goodwill mission some 30 years ago. He was of course a close friend of Nelson Mandela, both were cut from the same cloth.

Dikembe Mutombo never pointed a finger at anyone who needed help. For this he should and must be remembered.

Mutombo was still in the NBA at the time – playing for six teams – before eventually settling in Atlanta, where he played for the Hawks, then retired and raised his children.

Coincidentally, a move sent me there too. Our daughters became high school basketball teammates. We sat together in the bleachers in the gym, proud fathers bonding over the game again, this time on a more personal level. At a Halloween party for our daughters’ classmates at my house, Dikembe came by and stole candy when they weren’t looking.

After Lovett School won the Georgia State Girls Basketball Championship, Mutombo hosted a celebration at his house and was the perfect host, all cozy in his own home.

Not long after that reunion with the Cleveland All-Stars, he became ill and developed brain cancer that devastated everyone who knew him. The illness finally took his life on Monday at the far too young age of 58. This is a devastating and difficult loss for Georgetown, its former NBA teams and teammates, the NBA family and, most importantly, Rose and her three children.

He is a Hall of Famer and is second only to Hakeem Olajuwon in career blocked shots. His jersey hangs retired in Denver and Atlanta, his place as a premier defender cemented. And all of this is secondary.

There’s a reason the tributes to Mutombo are extensive, emotional and numerous. It reflects the life he led, the number of communities he touched at home and abroad, and the impression he left on all of us.

A certain segment of the rich and famous are often, sometimes too soon, assigned labels – generous, generous, considerate, caring. Throughout my four-decade career as a sports journalist, I encountered plenty of athletes who warranted all such descriptions, and one stood out above the rest, and not because of his size.

Dikembe Mutombo never pointed a finger at anyone who needed help. For this he should and must be remembered.

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Shaun Powell has been covering the NBA for more than 25 years. You can send him an email Herefind his archive here And Follow him on X.

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