Donnellon: Wilt Chamberlain, Joel Embiid, and what it takes to reach Olympus

A FEW MONTHS before Wilt Chamberlain died in 1999, I was afforded the chance to interview him in his home in Bel Air, Calif. We were doing a series on the top 100 Philadelphia athletes of all time, and he, appropriately, was our No. 1.

A few things stood out from that daylong interview, but I will start with the one I am reminded of each time I watch Joel Embiid play. Wilt was so supremely proud of his athletic achievements outside of basketball, particularly in track and field, that each discussion of any and all of his basketball records, all of his dominance, even his incredible endurance, soon swung back to a meet at Overbrook or even Kansas, when he beat a smaller, faster man perceived to be more athletic than he was.

That was the even playing field. That was where he wasn't Wilt the Stilt, but Wilt the incredibly gifted athlete.

I do not for a second want anyone to think I am drawing comparisons between that center from Kansas and our current one. Even if this brief glimpse of Embiid's potential turns out to be a harbinger of a long and transcendent career, he will never reach the perch on Olympus where Wilt will always reside, alone. Indeed, the game Embiid plays now, with its free throw rules, wider lanes and so many other nuances, has more to do with Wilt's involvement than it does Dr. James Naismith.

That said, Embiid's athleticism is the root of all he does, the reason you can't take your eyes off him. He's still a flurry of arms and legs, still wastes an amazing amount of energy getting to his point of wow, but that's part of the show, at least for now. He runs into a crowd of people under the basket, loses the ball, gets it back and puts it in. He gathers a ball at his feet with his fingertips a few feet outside the arc and strokes a three-pointer like a shooting guard.

He plays the crowd as Bruce Springsteen does.

Chamberlain did not foul out during his entire professional career. A force already on both ends of the court, Embiid has managed to avoid the fouls that have plagued so many big men entering their first NBA season. Yes, it's only 25 to 28 minutes a game for now, but some of those fouls he is called for aren't fouls, and probably won't be called once he's more established in the league.
And when is the last time you saw them give it to the big man with five seconds left so that he could ice the game at the free throw line? Besides the Sixers' game against Toronto last week, I mean.

That Wilt was a notoriously bad free-throw shooter sometimes obscures why that is. Wilt claimed that it was born of indifference, that he made them when they counted. He was too strong, some said, pointing to his trademark fall-away jumper as evidence. He needed to take something off it.

Tom Heinsohn, a longtime Celtics adversary, once recalled watching Wilt make 20 of 22 free throws – from halfcourt.

Whether this is legend or reality, it all points to what I always remember from that unforgettable day high up in the mountains of Bel Air. He wanted to be known as an athlete, not a freak. He wanted you to know that he could outrun, outjump and outlast you.

Yes, it's only a glimpse right now, what we've seen from Embiid so far. Yet I can't help thinking that Wilt, from his perch on Olympus, is enjoying the show.