Get to know the greatest mustaches in NBA history.
More than any other major American sport, basketball offers its viewers an intimate experience. It’s the only sport where the players don’t wear hats or helmets that obscure the audience’s vision, it’s the sport with the smallest playing area, and it’s the sport where a star player can be in the action for the largest part of each game — together, these factors allow NBA fans to get very familiar with their heroes. And as a result, an NBA player’s appearance matters — including what he grows on his face.
While there are important caveats — specific high-profile quarterbacks and pitchers who’ve made lasting contributions to the legacy of the lip sweater, for example — no other sport has had a richer history with the whiskers than basketball.
And because narrowing the list of all-time greatest NBA mustaches to ten would be torture for a face-fur-phile like me, I’ll use dog-show format instead — one winner apiece from each of nine themed groups, plus a best-in-bristles overall prize.
STYLE
The 1950s NBA was a pretty straight-laced scene. Most of the league’s stars looked like G.I. Joes, just home from military service. There wasn’t a lot of style to go around, and definitely not much facial hair. With few exceptions, the clean-shaven status quo continued to stretch into the first few years of the next decade; but in 1967, the birth of the upstart ABA marked a turning point in basketball style. And in less than ten years, the ABA had revolutionized the look of the sport, entirely. The league introduced the slam dunk contest, the 3-point line, and the tri-colored basketball; but most importantly, it was responsible for so many great mustaches.
Basketball’s new look was epitomized by the ABA’s best player, Julius Erving, who — with his afro and mustache — was the embodiment of cool. But it wasn’t just Dr. J; all of the league’s best players — Zelmo Beaty, Louie Dampier, George Gervin, George McGinnis — were mustachioed. Just crack open the ABA trading card price guide and you’ll find Brian Taylor’s noatee, Ollie Taylor’s isosceles mouth triangle, and Roland Taylor’s Cowardly Lion — all on a single page.
The ABA brought an infusion of self expression to the stodgy NBA; after the merger, players like Connie Hawkins continued to experiment with new configurations of facial flair. And the influence of the ABA reached NBA-lifers too, as demonstrated by the epic caterpillars of Walt Frazier and Pete Maravich.
But, no ABA player brought more style to the NBA than Artis Gilmore. His “elevator going up arrow” mustache-and-goatee combo was totally unique and entirely befitting a professional dunker.
MASCULINITY
In the 1980s there was one mustache that stood lip-and-whiskers above the rest — it belonged to the face of a Hawaii-based private investigator by the name of Thomas Sullivan Magnum the fourth. Magnum’s mustache oozed masculinity like a hollowed-out pineapple full of whiskey. And by the time the last of 158 unforgettable episodes of Magnum P.I. aired, the expectations were irrevocably raised for every mustache that would follow.
NBA players felt the pressure to produce magnum-sized mustaches too, of course. Throughout the 80s, journeyman Chuck Nevitt did his best imitation of Tom Selleck, and — by the end of his career — his pushbroom was a passable copy. Rickey Green and Charles Oakley both had very muscular moes too, and James Edwards went bigger with his bushy handlebars than any player before or since.
The NBA’s early international influence brought along some Lithuanian lip luggage courtesy of Arvydas Sabonis and Sarunas Marciulionis. Meanwhile, NBA washout Ramon Rivas had a sort of low-brow/high-brow combo reminiscent of Kid Ray.
But nobody in the NBA did the 80s mustache more perfectly than John Lucas did (still does, really). Lucas’ mustache was undeniably the focal point of his face — it was arguably the focal point of the whole city of Houston — because his lip hairs somehow grew longer, thicker, and darker than the hair on top of his head (as only a 35-year-old mustache could do). Lucas could bench press at least one hundred pounds with that muscle-stache, and that’s truly impressive.
CAMARADERIE
Lucas and Nevitt were competitors in the masculinity group, but they were teammates in real life — joining follicle forces on the 1989-90 Houston Rockets. The bro-mo power pair was complemented by the mustaches of fellow Rockets Hakeem Olajuwon, Otis Thorpe, Sleepy Floyd, Derrick Chievous, Buck Johnson, Anthony Bowie, Adrian Caldwell, and Lewis Lloyd.
Just up I-45, the 1986-87 Dallas Mavericks were a top-10 all-time offense and most of their best scorers — Mark Aguirre, Rolando Blackman, Derek Harper, Sam Perkins, Detlef Schrempf, Roy Tarpley, and Al Wood — were rocking the stache, headlined by the breathtaking blonde mustache–mullet combo of Brad Davis.
Some of the world’s best mustaches are born out of camaraderie like this. Because, one guy with a mustache is a weirdo, right? But a group of guys with mustaches? That’s a club.
The 1985-86 Lakers were L.A.’s most exclusive club — a 62-win team coming off a championship season. Magic Johnson was the heart of the team, but the mustache of the team was mustaches, a whole mess of mustaches.
I mean, look at all these crumb-catchers.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? ✅
Michael Cooper? ✅
Maurice Lucas? ✅
A.C. Green? ✅
Byron Scott? ✅
Petur Gudmundsson? ✅
Ronnie Lester? ✅
Mike McGee? ✅
Larry Spriggs? ✅
Laker trainer, Gary Vitti? ✅
Oh, and Chuck Nevitt? He must have missed team photo day, but he was on this roster, too. ✅
Collectively, they posted an unprecedented 79 percent mustache rate. And no Laker mustache had a bigger impact than the messy masterpiece of the bespectacled Kurt Rambis.
DREAMINESS
Here’s an element of the Dream Team’s success that hasn’t received enough attention: a lot of the players had mustaches. I watched the entire The Dream Team documentary and I don’t remember mustaches being mentioned even one time. To be fair, not all of the mustaches were on display in Barcelona — some came later (which is why I couldn’t, in good conscience, include these guys in the Teammate Group), but it’s still pretty interesting.
Among this group of great American ballplayers, there was a fantastic variety of mustache styles, too. Charles Barkley earned a reputation as a player with an explosive personality, but he kept his pencil mustache very tightly controlled. In contrast, Patrick Ewing and Karl Malone liked to let their lip hair down every now and again, occasionally sporting big unruly mustaches. Michael Jordan wasn’t a habitual mustache grower but, damn, he could pull one off.
Sometimes a man’s mustache motives are just real simple — certain faces are legitimately improved by a little furniture. Clyde Drexler’s and David Robinson’s are two prime examples. Both dream-teamers maintained a very neatly manicured mustache throughout the 1990s. Now, it’s hard to imagine either one without his signature stache.
But the Dream Team’s most legendary soup-strainer belongs to the Hick from French Lick, Larry Bird. Most people probably wouldn’t consider it a thing of beauty, but that wispy farm-boy mustache provided some much-needed balance to his face — a wing to help offset Bird’s overhanging beak. Plus, no all-time greatest mustache list would be complete without a few blonde bristles in the mix.
EMPOWERMENT
A mustache can be a brand of self control — a flag planted on the facial landscape that says “I own this philtrum and I’ll grow whatever I want on it.” Men feeling unempowered — by a stressful work environment, a domineering spouse, or parents who just don’t understand — may manifest feelings with facial hair.
Kevin Ollie played for 11 teams in 13 years. Aside from a short stint in Philadelphia, he never started consecutive seasons in the same place. He went from Dallas to Orlando to Sacramento and back to Orlando; from Philadelphia to New Jersey and back to Philly; then thru Chicago, Indiana, Milwaukee, Seattle, Cleveland, and Philly again; and finally from Minnesota to Oklahoma City. Yikes. Think of the packing-peanut bills.
All those life changes were stressful; Ollie’s mustache was the one constant — a security blanket for his face.
Andre Miller was another frequent mover — playing for nine different teams — and he too resorted to the skinny stache. Penny Hardaway turned to mustaching after career-altering knee injuries. Shaun Livingston had a traumatic knee injury AND played for nine teams — a skinny-stache double whammy. Stephon Marbury had his own demons.
Carmelo Anthony’s move to New York in 2011 bolstered the career of his wife La La, an aspiring actress. Years later, Anthony is still languishing on a bad Knicks team, stuck dealing with the weird machinations of team president Phil Jackson. Sadly, La La and Melo are now estranged; but through it all, his furry facade has remained, a silent assertion of personal agency.
HUMOR
Nowadays, NBA mustaches are mostly grown in jest. Genuine stachers like CJ McCollum, Jeff Teague, and Spencer Dinwiddie, are exceptions; but more-often-than-not, modern mustaches tend to be accompanied by smirking Instagram selfies and a knowing wink.
Players like Steve Nash, Myers Leonard, and Boris Diaw have demonstrated Magnum-level mustachabilities, but a palpable undercurrent of irony has cheapened their displays. Likewise, Shane Battier, Spencer Hawes, and Andrew Bogut have all debased the proud legacy of James Edwards with their patchy replica handlebars.
JaVale McGee had a dastardly mustache tattoo hidden on the inside of his index finger even before he joined the super villains. How hipster is that? Scot Pollard has one too.
Recently, some of the best gag mustaches have been initiated in the name of charity. Chris Paul, DeAndre Jordan, and Blake Griffin all eschewed their lip-clippers one November to raise awareness for prostate cancer — even coach Doc Rivers played along. The Cavaliers have also celebrated Movember (multiple times) — LeBron James and Kevin Love had particularly successful efforts.
Likewise, I imagine that when Enes Kanter and Steven Adams transformed into the Stache Brothers for the first time, it was initially meant as a joke, too — there was a playful photo shoot and themed clothing. But eventually, if you wait long enough to shave, you stop being a guy who is pretending to have a mustache, and you just become a guy who likes having a mustache. Of the pair, Adams has more wholeheartedly embraced his new look and, so, he gets the edge.
AUTHORITY
Mustaches are synonymous with authority. That’s why police officers like them. Same for drill sergeants. And vice principals. They also work well for coaches.
Magic coach Stan Van Gundy has “built a f—ing wall” between his nose and his mouth, a mustache wall. Thunder assistant coach Maurice Cheeks once had a thick mustache, but now he has a faint one. Clipper assistant coach Mike Woodson is famous for his perfectly formed goatee, but I bet his players respected his short-lived mustache more. Raptors coach Dwayne Casey wears a good mustache, too.
A handful of other current coaches have a smoke filter hidden somewhere in the murky shadows of their past. Would young coaches Jason Kidd and Earl Watson demand more respect from their players if they brought the mustaches back? I’m not sure. But Portland coach Terry Stotts should definitely consider reviving his blonde perm-gold chain-mustache combo, it was fantastic.
Mike D’Antoni waved goodbye to his lifelong best friend this season. I assume it was a voluntary decision on his part; but I’m not ruling out the possibility that James Harden’s beard ate it. Regardless of what inspired the change, that thing is definitely growing back.
D’Antoni reached legend status as a player in Italy — he won five league championships with Milan Olympia, finished top-5 in the LBA for career assists and steals, and was named the best point guard in league history. To show their gratitude, the Milanese fans called him “Il Baffo,” THE MUSTACHE. That incredible nickname is grounds for automatic inclusion on this list.
EXUBERANCE
Some young men have mustaches, not because they SHOULD, but just to celebrate that they CAN.
Myself, I’ve always used the same shaving routine — since the day when Lord Puberty gave me my first stubble — to start with the cheeks and chin and leave the upper lip for last. The patchy mustache left behind after the initial trimming always received a thorough examination. Could some coaxing cover these gaps? Could I pull this off? Occasionally, a work-in-progress passing self-inspection might leave the sink for a brief public trial (still mottled with shaving cream and razor burns), only to face immediate ridicule and removal.
But, at some point, I looked in the mirror and realized: ‘that is a legit mustache.’
Looking through albums of NBA-family photos, I recognize this moment of exuberance on the once-youthful faces of many of the league’s wizened executives. General managers Danny Ainge, Dell Demps, Ernie Grunfeld, and Dave Wohl each had mustache moments as young players in the NBA.
Miami Heat Team President Pat Riley was an NBA frat guy back in his playing days — resplendent with orange wristbands, sunburst short-shorts, floppy hair, and a big, bushy mustache. It was an irrepressible look that stands in such sharp contrast to the clean-shaven, slicked-back, grown-up version of Riley that coached the Lakers just a few years later.
But, I’m awarding this group to another team president. Like Riley, Phil Jackson revelled in his youthful mustache moment, but then he grew up. The difference is, Jackson grew up to become an adult who also had a mustache. So, bonus points.
RANDOMNESS
When I sit down to watch the Westminster Dog Show on Thanksgiving Day, my favorite segment is always the Non-Sporting Group. It’s the catch-all category for misfit dog breeds not easily classified as “terriers”, “hounds” or “working dogs”. Non-sportos include wrinkly Shar Peis, adorable French Bull Dogs, and weird Schipperkes.
The following quartet is my Non-Working Group of NBA mustaches. This group celebrates the spontaneity of mustaches with a random assortment of leftovers who didn’t fit into the earlier groups.
Former commissioner Adam Stern’s mustache was the ambassador to the league for many years, welcoming each new NBA draft pick with its tiny mustache-arms wide open.
Bill Kennedy has easily the best mustache of any referee in NBA history.
The shoulder-length mustache of Seattle Supersonic mascot Squatch was the biggest in the NBA until he was laid off in 2008. Fortunately, Squatch has returned to the league, now working with NBA-sponsor Jack Link’s Beef Jerky.
Adam Morrison’s mustache peaked at Gonzaga [insert joke]. In the NBA, he got tan, he obscured his once-proud mustache with a goatee, he cropped his long hair short, and — sadly — eventually he shaved his mustache off entirely. He seems sad about it and, honestly, I am too.
But we’ll always remember that fleeting moment, when Morrison — standing in front of an oddly-textured gray backdrop — posed for a photo with his majestic mustache and his generic Bobcats-06 jersey. Thank you, Adam.
BEST-IN-BRISTLES
The brilliance of the dog-show format is that the Westminster judges long-ago realized it was hopeless to compare a pug to a rottweiler. Instead, each dog is judged based on the standards of his own breed, the breed champions are compared to similar breeds within the same group, and the best representative of each group competes for the prize of Best-in-Show.
So, for me, it’s less about picking the best mustache in the history of the NBA, and more about picking the NBA mustache that is most representative of a mustache ideal. To review, here are the winners of the nine themed groups:
Style – Artis Gilmore
Masculinity – John Lucas
Camaraderie – Kurt Rambis and the 1985-86 Lakers
Dreaminess – Larry Bird
Empowerment – Carmelo Anthony
Humor – Steven Adams
Authority – Mike D’Antoni
Exuberance – Young Phil Jackson
Randomness – Adam Morrison
While there are many wonderful candidates from which to choose. For me, there is one clear winner: John Lucas has the most masculine mustache in the history of basketball. That thing is thick enough to mount a bookshelf — by which I mean, you could attach a bookshelf to his mustache or you could use his mustache to hammer a bookshelf to the wall. It’s that strong.
Next: What each NBA coach would be doing if he wasn’t an NBA coach
This is a lifetime achievement award, too. Lucas is now the player development coach for the Rockets, but his jet-black mustache is identical to the one that he had as a rookie in Houston 40 years ago.
So, Mr. Lucas, if you please, trot that hairy beast out for a victory lap, you deserve a standing ovation.