Fans are enthralled with the early dominance, hypnotized by the highlights, captivated by the possibility that a new heir to a GOAT throne is emerging. As time passes, statistics begin to be projected outward, awards are compiled, measurements are made. Eventually, the conversation turns to history and legacy, which get complicated by comparisons of eras, playing styles, surrounding teammates, and even conspiracies about the hidden hand of a commissioner or league office facilitating the success.
This is usually when legacy and comparative greatness stops being a conversation and spins into a turf war, with boundaries often defined by fan geography, age, race or recency bias. Almost always, parts of the argument are fueled by an undertone of celebrity saturation, media ubiquity or “GOAT fatigue” — all of which begin to weigh on the perception of the player at the center of the maelstrom.
It’s a familiar “heavy is the head that wears the crown” group, bonded together by love, hatred, jealousy, envy and monumental levels of success. Tom Brady has a seat on the council. As do Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant and LeBron James, an NBA trio that has defined basketball the way Zeus, Poseidon and Apollo have defined Greek mythology. Serena Williams and Rafael Nadal are among the ranks. As are Michael Phelps, Wayne Gretzky, Babe Ruth … on and on.
