Number 22 NBA Players Who Made History and Their Career Highlights

As I watched the Far Eastern University deliver that crushing 95-76 defeat to the Red Warriors last Sunday at Smart Araneta Coliseum, marking their 13th consecutive loss, I couldn't help but reflect on how certain numbers in basketball carry almost mythical significance. The number 22 kept coming to mind—not just because of the final score differential, but because throughout NBA history, this number has been worn by some of the most transformative players the game has ever seen. Having followed basketball for over two decades, both as a fan and analyst, I've developed a particular fascination with how jersey numbers become intertwined with legacies. There's something special about number 22—it's not as flashy as 23 or as iconic as 33, but the players who've worn it have carved out remarkable careers that deserve more recognition than they typically receive.

When we talk about number 22 in NBA contexts, the conversation absolutely must begin with Elgin Baylor. My grandfather used to tell me stories about watching Baylor play, and the statistics still astound me today. Baylor averaged 27.4 points and 13.5 rebounds over his 14-season career with the Minneapolis/Los Angeles Lakers—numbers that would be impressive even in today's game, let alone in the era he dominated. What I find most remarkable about Baylor was how he revolutionized the forward position with his aerial creativity. Before Michael Jordan's famous hang time, there was Baylor elevating in ways nobody had seen, combining grace with raw power. His 71-point game against the New York Knicks in 1960 stood as a record for nearly a decade. Baylor never won a championship, which breaks my heart whenever I revisit his career, but his impact on how the game is played transcends rings. He demonstrated that forwards could be primary scoring options and offensive creators, paving the way for everyone from Julius Erving to LeBron James.

Transitioning to more recent history, Larry Nance wore number 22 with such consistent excellence that I think he's become somewhat underrated in historical discussions. Nance wasn't the flashy scorer Baylor was, but my goodness, his defensive presence was something to behold. I remember watching old tapes of his playing days with the Phoenix Suns and Cleveland Cavaliers, marveling at how he seemed to anticipate shots before they even left the shooter's hands. The numbers back this up—Nance averaged 2.2 blocks per game at his peak and made three All-Defensive teams. What I appreciate most about Nance's game was its intelligence; he understood positioning better than almost any power forward of his era. His son Larry Nance Jr. now carries on the family tradition in the NBA, though he's chosen different numbers—a small detail I've always found interesting, as if acknowledging that his father's 22 was too iconic to replicate.

The evolution of number 22 took an interesting turn with players like Jim Jackson, who represented the versatile wing scorer that became increasingly valuable in the 90s and early 2000s. Jackson's career fascinates me because he played for twelve different teams—an NBA record at the time—yet wherever he went, his number 22 became synonymous with professional consistency. I had the opportunity to watch Jackson play live during his stint with the Dallas Mavericks, and what struck me was his fundamentally sound approach to the game. He wasn't the most athletic player on the court, but his mid-range game was practically textbook. Jackson averaged 14.3 points over his career, with his best seasons in Dallas where he put up around 19-20 points per game. In today's analytics-driven NBA, his game would probably be criticized for favoring mid-range jumpers over three-pointers, but there was an artistry to his approach that I miss in the modern game.

What strikes me about these number 22 players is how their careers reflect broader shifts in basketball strategy and philosophy. Baylor represented the emergence of the scoring forward, Nance exemplified the defensive specialist big man, and Jackson bridged the gap between traditional and modern wing players. Each adapted the number to their unique style rather than being constrained by any preconceived notions about what a number 22 player should be. This brings me back to that Red Warriors game—watching a team struggle through their 13th straight loss reminded me that numbers in basketball tell stories beyond statistics. They represent expectations, legacies, and sometimes the weight of history. The players I've mentioned carried number 22 with distinction, but they also demonstrated that greatness isn't about the number on your back—it's about how you define it through your approach to the game.

In my view, the legacy of number 22 in the NBA is due for a renaissance. We're in an era where younger fans might associate the number more with contemporary players like Jimmy Butler, who wore it briefly before switching to 23. But the historical significance runs much deeper. These players carved out identities that transcended their numerical designation while simultaneously adding to its lore. As basketball continues to evolve, I'm watching to see who might next embrace number 22 and build upon this underappreciated legacy. Perhaps it will be a player on a team like the Red Warriors, who could use the inspiration of basketball history to break their unfortunate streak and start building something new. After all, numbers in sports are never just numbers—they're vessels for stories, and the story of number 22 has some particularly compelling chapters that deserve to be remembered and celebrated.