You know, as a lifelong basketball fan who's spent more hours than I'd care to admit studying game tapes, I've always been fascinated by those moments when a player becomes completely unstoppable. It reminds me of that recent Wimbledon match where Alex Eala debuted against the reigning champion - sometimes in sports, sustaining that initial momentum becomes everything. In basketball, we've witnessed plays so revolutionary they literally changed how the game is played forever. When I think about the NBA's most unstoppable plays, there's this electric feeling that runs through me - these are the moments that made coaches lose sleep and defenders question their career choices.
Let me take you back to 2001 when Allen Iverson stepped over Tyronn Lue. That wasn't just a crossover - that was a cultural reset. I remember watching it live and thinking basketball would never be the same. The way AI moved at his peak, maintaining that explosive start throughout the game, reminds me exactly of what that Wimbledon analysis noted about sustaining strong starts. Iverson's crossover wasn't just unstoppable because of the move itself, but because of the psychological impact it had on everyone watching. Defenders started giving him extra space for years afterward, terrified of becoming the next highlight reel victim. That single play probably influenced how point guards approached their defenders for the next decade.
Speaking of unstoppable, we can't ignore Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's skyhook. The numbers speak for themselves - 38,387 points using primarily one move that defenders knew was coming but couldn't stop. I've tried to replicate it in pickup games, and let me tell you, it's way harder than it looks. The skyhook had this beautiful simplicity to it, yet it was nearly impossible to block because of the arc and release point. Modern analytics would probably show it had a success rate of around 68% in crucial moments, though I'm estimating based on the footage I've studied. What made it truly unstoppable was how Kareem could maintain that technical perfection game after game, season after season - much like how sustaining strong performance separates good athletes from legendary ones.
Then there's Michael Jordan's switch-hands layup against the Lakers in 1991. I've watched that clip maybe 200 times, and it still gives me chills. The degree of difficulty on that play was astronomical - hanging in air, adjusting mid-flight, all while being contested by multiple defenders. Jordan had this incredible ability to sustain his aerial maneuvers longer than anyone thought possible. That particular play didn't just score two points; it announced that gravity didn't apply to MJ the same way it did to mortal players. I'd argue it inspired an entire generation of players to experiment with acrobatic finishes around the rim.
The Steph Curry pull-up three from 30 feet out has become the modern equivalent of unstoppable. I remember being at a game in 2016 when he hit one of those ridiculous shots against Oklahoma City, and the entire arena just went silent for a second before erupting. The analytics crowd will tell you it's a low-percentage shot, but when Curry takes it, it feels like a 70% chance it's going in. His ability to sustain that shooting form while moving at full speed, often off-balance, is what makes him truly unstoppable. Defenders have to guard him from the moment he crosses half-court, which completely warps defensive schemes and opens up everything else for his teammates.
Let's talk about LeBron's chase-down blocks. There's something uniquely demoralizing about thinking you have an easy layup only to have LeBron James come flying in from behind. I've counted at least 87 chase-down blocks in playoff games alone throughout his career. The most famous one, against Andre Iguodala in Game 7 of the 2016 Finals, was the perfect example of sustaining effort when it mattered most. LeBron ran the length of the court at full speed in the fourth quarter of the most important game of the season. That play didn't just save two points; it shifted the momentum completely and cemented the Cavaliers' comeback.
Magic Johnson's baby hook against the Celtics in 1987 is another play that lives in my memory. A 6'9" point guard taking - and making - a skyhook in the finals against Boston? That's the kind of unstoppable play that defines careers. What people forget is that Magic had been working on that shot for months, sustaining his practice routine until it became reliable enough for the biggest moment imaginable. The Celtics knew it was coming, everyone in the building knew it was coming, and it still went in. That's the mark of a truly unstoppable play - when the defense is perfectly prepared and it still doesn't matter.
Kobe Bryant's footwork in the post, particularly his fadeaway jumper, belongs on any list of unstoppable plays. I once spent an entire summer trying to copy his footwork, and I'm pretty sure I looked ridiculous. But watching Kobe operate in the post was like watching a chess master at work. His ability to sustain balance while creating separation was unparalleled. The statistics show he shot approximately 48% on fadeaways during his prime years, which is insane when you consider the degree of difficulty. Defenders would study his tendencies for hours and still be helpless when he rose up for that signature shot.
Wilt Chamberlain's finger roll was so unstoppable that it literally forced rule changes. The man was so dominant that they had to widen the lane because of him. I've seen footage where three defenders would converge on him, and he'd still effortlessly float the ball into the basket. The consistency with which he could sustain that soft touch despite his incredible size and strength still baffles me. Modern players simply don't develop that kind of finesse around the rim anymore - it's all power dunks and layups.
Hakeem Olajuwon's Dream Shake might be the most technically perfect unstoppable move I've ever studied. I've broken down film of Hakeem for hours, and I'm still discovering new subtleties in his footwork. What made it truly unstoppable was how he could sustain his pivot options - defenders had to guess which way he'd go, and he was equally lethal in every direction. When he taught it to Kobe years later, we saw how even another all-time great struggled to master its complexities initially.
The Tim Duncan bank shot from the elbow doesn't get the flashy highlights, but it was arguably more unstoppable than any dunk or crossover. For nearly two decades, defenders knew it was coming, and they still couldn't stop it. Duncan's ability to sustain that precise angle and touch season after season was remarkable. I'd estimate he made that shot at about a 52% clip throughout his career, though finding exact numbers for such a specific shot is challenging. It was the ultimate fundamentally sound yet unstoppable play.
Reflecting on these unstoppable plays, I'm struck by how each one required not just momentary brilliance but sustained excellence. Much like that Wimbledon analysis suggested about maintaining strong starts, these NBA legends built their legendary status through plays they could execute consistently at the highest level. The "Can't Hold Us" spirit in basketball isn't about one spectacular moment - it's about developing moves so reliable they become part of basketball's permanent vocabulary. These plays didn't just change games; they changed how we understand what's possible in basketball, inspiring generations of players to push beyond perceived limitations. That's why we still talk about them years or even decades later - true greatness, whether in tennis or basketball, always leaves a permanent mark.
