When legends don't like what they hear
Victor Wembanyama said something before Saturday's NBA Cup semifinal that rubbed Dirk Nowitzki the wrong way. Not in a "let's create fake beef" way—in a legitimate "that's not how you talk about your peers" way. The Spurs phenom was asked about facing Chet Holmgren, and instead of acknowledging his opponent, Wembanyama pivoted hard to Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, essentially suggesting Holmgren only looks good because defenders are helping on SGA.
Nowitzki didn't hide his disappointment. "I didn't like his answer about Chet," the Mavericks icon told Prime Sports. "I would've liked him to give Chet more credit. He could say Shai is incredible, but also mention that Chet is a champion and that he wanted to compete against him. That was too confident, too dismissive of Chet."
The old school versus the new normal
This isn't about Dirk being a cranky veteran yelling at clouds. The man built a Hall of Fame career on letting his game do the talking. He torched opponents for two decades without the trash talk, without the manufactured rivalries, without needing to diminish anyone to elevate himself. That's his framework for how stars should carry themselves.
But here's where it gets interesting: Wembanyama's comment wasn't unprovoked. Taylor Rooks asked him directly about the Holmgren rivalry before their semifinal clash. The question itself frames them as equals, as the two defining big men of their generation. Wembanyama clearly rejected that framing. "The MVP is on the court, that's our priority," he said. "Anyone is hard to guard when you have to help on the MVP."
That's not diplomacy. That's Wembanyama saying: stop comparing me to Chet when the real threat is the guy who nearly won MVP last season. It's tactical honesty wrapped in what sounds like disrespect.
Context matters, even when it doesn't excuse everything
The frustration makes sense. Wembanyama and Holmgren get linked constantly because they're both 7-footers who can shoot, block shots, and move like wings. But their impacts aren't equivalent right now. Wembanyama is carrying a franchise rebuild while averaging elite defensive numbers and orchestrating possessions. Holmgren is the third or fourth option on a genuine contender, playing outstanding complementary basketball next to two All-NBA talents.
Does that excuse the dismissive tone? Not entirely. Holmgren won Rookie of the Year last season, anchors one of the league's best defenses, and shoots 53% from the field while spacing to the three-point line. Calling him just a product of SGA's gravity ignores how Holmgren changes games with his length and timing. That's lazy analysis, and Wembanyama knows better.
Generational gap or legitimate critique?
Nowitzki's perspective reflects an era where stars didn't need to talk. They showed up, dominated, and let championships validate their greatness. Modern NBA stars operate in a different reality—every interview gets dissected, every social media post becomes content, every rivalry gets amplified. Wembanyama isn't wrong for being annoyed by constant Holmgren comparisons. But Dirk isn't wrong that the response came across poorly.
The truth sits somewhere uncomfortable: Wembanyama has every right to be confident in his superiority, but confidence doesn't require diminishing others. He could've acknowledged Holmgren's game while still making his point about SGA being the real focus. Instead, he delivered a quote that sounds like he doesn't rate his peer at all.
And that's what Dirk heard—not strategy, not tactical thinking, but dismissiveness toward another young star trying to build his own legacy. Whether that's fair or generational doesn't change how it landed.