The house that Dikembe Mutombo built

If you played in the NBA in the 1990s or 2000s, at some point you were finished off by Dikembe Mutombo. Shaquille O’Neal, Michael Jordan, Steve Nash, Hakeem Olajuwon, LeBron James, Allen Iverson, Scottie Pippen, Kobe Bryant, Charles Barkley, Dwyane Wade, Karl Malone, Tim Duncan and hundreds more – with whom to fill a Hall of Fame could only be the brotherhood of players blocked by Mutombo and tell the story of several eras through those he rejected. Overall, Mutombo blocked more shots during his NBA career than anyone other than Olajuwon, a feat that alone would have made him a legend in the sport.

But Mutombo was much bigger. With thousands of beats came thousands of finger wags, often accompanied by the unforgettable boom of his voice – with all its bass and gravel fighting to suppress the mocking laughter underneath. In basketball, the defensive game is inherently reactive but also confrontational. It is a means of exercising one’s will and enjoying destruction. Mutombo could luxuriate with the best of them. With that finger-wagging he terrorized his opponents, racking up fines, technical offenses and retaliation until former Commissioner David Stern begged Mutombo to stop. The towering center eventually complied. But years later, in a 2004 game against the Nets, Mutombo saved so many shots that he had no other choice. He raised one hand in the air and, much to the delight of the crowd at Madison Square Garden, let his finger do the talking.

Dikembe Mutombo knew how to party, which means he knew how to live. His death this week – at the age of 58 from brain cancer – is undoubtedly tragic. Mutombo gave so much of himself; He is respected in the basketball world for both his generosity and his years of patrol. He was an ambassador, an athlete, a humanitarian. He was named Defensive Player of the Year four times, was named an All-Star eight times, and is one of the few to have his jerseys retired by multiple franchises. There is no one as good as Dikembe. There is no one who laughed Just like Dikembe, who never took himself too seriously and never let his pride get in the way of having a good time. This has made him one of the best defenders of all time. You can’t protect the rim if you’re not willing to laugh at yourself when things go wrong. And when Mutombo laughed, the world laughed with him.

You can see his impact in this week’s outpouring of goodwill, with friends, players and entire international organizations highlighting the power of Mutombo’s legacy. He made it his life’s mission to improve his community, and after nearly two decades in the NBA, Mutombo dedicated himself to growing the game and caring for others. As one of the patron saints of Basketball Without Borders, he has been instrumental in improving access to playgrounds and training for children across Africa. Mutombo, who grew up in the Democratic Republic of Congo, came late to the game; He prioritized his studies and focused on other sports well into his teenage years, when a growth spurt made him look at basketball from a different perspective. Still, it was a hobby. Mutombo came to America to attend Georgetown and prepare for medical school. When he left campus a few years later, he was one of the top picks in the NBA draft. Found basketball him. Mutombo then invested years of his life to ensure that children around the world – and especially on his home continent – have the same and more opportunities.

Mutombo built a free school in the Democratic Republic of Congo in honor of his father, a professional educator. He built a hospital in memory of his mother, who died in 1998 from a stroke but in reality from poor access to health care. Countless professional athletes are involved in philanthropy, lending their name and fame to whatever cause moves them. But Mutombo was always a dedicated son of DRC who happened to be one of the best basketball players of his time. Everything became a way to give back. The game, the finger movements, the commercials – all increased Mutombo’s exposure and helped finance his next project. He was and is a giant. In 2009, the NBA named Mutombo its first global ambassador, even though he hardly needed the title; Dikembe had been doing this job for years.

There is a generation of kids who know Mutombo as the man with the big smile and the big, bellowing laugh who showed up at their first clinic, their new courthouse or that one event at the Boys and Girls Club. There are others who first met him as the ham in the GEICO commercial, happily batting away balls of paper and rejecting loads of laundry. Those who saw him play may best remember Mutombo as a nugget who pulled off one of the biggest upsets in history, a Hawk who hit every shot in sight, a defensive anchor for the Allen Iverson Sixers, or even a key contributor the Rockets’ bench team that has won 22 games in a row. Mutombo was 58 years young when he died, but he lived so many lives in and around the game.

History will remember a man like Mutombo. Just the finger wagging was iconic – so much so that even Stern couldn’t deny it. Mutombo simply stopped waving his finger at his opponents and started waving it high in the air for everyone else. The message, of course, was still exactly the same: not here, not now, and certainly not in Mutombo’s house. His sense of charity did not extend to opponents who brought this weak shit into the paint. You could ban any taunt from the game, but Mutombo, ever the cheerful agitator, would find a smiling solution. What a beautiful legacy he leaves behind – of so many opportunities created around the world and so many shots that were utterly destroyed.