How Dikembe Mutombo’s Charm Made the World Smile

Perhaps Dikembe Mutombo’s finger-wagging went a bit too far? The beloved NBA big-man—who died on Monday, of brain cancer, at 58—started his signature move sometime in the mid-1990s, as he was an emerging presence in the game. He’d wave his finger at an opponent, as if to say “no, no, no,” after blocking a shot. An immeasurable number of cocky children—not to mention the grown-ups—across the globe have followed suit, flashing obnoxious Muotombos at their smaller peers during all manner of basketball games. And in one 1997 matchup between Mutombo’s Atlanta Hawks and the Philadelphia 76ers, Mutombo blocked the shot of Philadelphia 76ers forward Clarence Weatherspoon three straight times in one possession, and gave him three straight finger-wags. On the first two blocks, you could argue that the Hawks would be better served by Mutombo chasing down the loose ball, rather than standing flat-footed under the basket doing his “no, no, no” act.

But if Mutombo did so, we might not have been gifted the third block, in which Mutombo sends back Weatherspoon’s offering with such ferocity, that the ball falls right into the hands of a Hawks teammate who starts a fast-break down the other way. And if Mutombo wasn’t so committed to the objectively funny bit, the American masses would be bereft of Mutombo’s legend and charm, which was immortalized in a 2013 Geico commercial: Mutombo swats away office waste paper, a kid’s cereal box, laundromat clothes and toll-booth change in the ad, taunting each of the shooters before running away.

So no, it never went too far. Dealing with the dummy who finger-waves during your Sunday- morning run is a small price to pay for the full Mutombo. 

He was a giant, standing at 7’2”, on and off the basketball court. During his Hall-of-Fame career, he blocked 3,289 shots, good for second all-time behind Hakeem Olajuwon (3830), while winning NBA Defensive Player of the Year on four different occasions (1995, 1997, 1998, 2001). Mutombo, who always seemed to be smiling and relishing the power of his unmistakable deep booming voice, appeared in eight All-Star Games during his 18-season career, which spanned from 1992 to 2009. Mutombo played for the Denver Nuggets, Atlanta Hawks, Philadelphia 76ers, New Jersey Nets, New York Knicks and Houston Rockets. His teams made two NBA Finals appearances, Philadelphia in 2001 and New Jersey in 2003, though they fell short on both occasions: a 2001 mid-season trade that brought him from Atlanta to Philadelphia helped fortify Allen Iverson’s run to the championship round, where the Sixers fell to Shaq and Kobe’s Los Angeles Lakers during Iverson’s MVP season. 

Mutombo was also a champion humanitarian. Born and raised in Democratic Republic of the Congo—then called Zaire, until 1997—he was fluent in nine languages, including five African languages. His foundation—name— built a hospital in Kinshasa, Congo’s capital, that opened in 2007; Mutombo said he personally contributed $24 million to the $30 million effort. Mutombo grew up poor and dreamed of playing basketball in the United States, watching clips of the Harlem Globetrotters and Kareeem Abdul-Jabbar for inspiration (he figured all Americans were tall). His coach at Georgetown, the late John Thompson, told him that if he concentrated on defense, as opposed to offense, he’d make Mutombo a millionaire.

“He didn’t lie to me,” Mutombo told TIME in 2020. 

The NBA named Mutombo its first Global Ambassador in 2009; he also served on the boards of the National Constitution Center, Special Olympics International, the CDC Foundation, and the National Board for the U.S. Fund for UNICEF. “He poured his heart and soul into helping others,” NBA commissioner Adam Silver said in a statement on Monday.

Probably the most unforgettable moment of Mutombo’s career came early on, after his third season, when he led the Denver Nuggets to an upset over the top-seeded Seattle Supersonics in the 1994 NBA playoffs. That was the first time in league history an 8th-seeded team had beaten a No. 1 in the first round, and it’s only happened five more times over the next three decades. After a grueling overtime win on the road in the decisive Game 5, Mutombo, who blocked 8 shots, lay on the floor, his face facing the heavens, with his outstretched arms gripping the game ball.

No need for any finger-wagging. Mutombo was laughing, smiling, crying tears of joy. And he never really stopped.