The Human Highlight Reel That Started It All

There’s a moment in every basketball fan’s life when the game becomes more than just a pastime—it becomes personal. For me, that moment happened in 1988. I was a kid, flipping through channels, when I stumbled upon a blur of power, grace, and gravity-defying creativity in an Atlanta Hawks uniform. His name was Dominique Wilkins, and in that moment, basketball wasn’t just a sport—it was poetry in mid-air.

Dominique Wilkins didn’t just dunk. He detonated. His windmills weren’t just flashy—they were violent expressions of force and finesse. He didn’t just rise; he levitated, exploded, and thundered through defenders. The way he attacked the rim made you feel something. It was raw, it was visceral, and it was magnetic. He wasn’t trying to be pretty. He was trying to leave an impression—and he did. On the rim. On the league. And on me.

A lot of people remember 1988 as the year Michael Jordan won that iconic Slam Dunk Contest in Chicago. But real ones remember that Wilkins was right there, neck-and-neck with MJ, throwing down with power and purpose. Many will argue Jordan won that contest, but to this day, I believe Dominique was robbed. That two-handed windmill from the baseline? That alone deserved a perfect score. What Wilkins brought to the dunk contest wasn’t just showmanship—it was dominance.

What often gets lost in all the highlight reels is that Dominique was far more than just a dunker. He was a prolific scorer—averaging over 30 points per game for multiple seasons—and did it with a smooth mid-range jumper, a strong post game, and an ability to carry a franchise on his back. He was the face of the Hawks during one of the most competitive eras in NBA history, going toe-to-toe with Larry Bird, Michael Jordan, and Isiah Thomas in legendary battles that deserve more love from the history books.

But maybe that’s part of what makes Wilkins so beloved by those who really know the game—he never needed a ring to earn our respect. He was art. He was power. He was a warrior. The fact that he was never quite in the conversation with the “mainstream” superstars of the time made him all the more special to me. It felt like he was mine—the player I discovered, the one who didn’t get the credit he deserved, but who made the game come alive for me.

More than three decades later, I still get chills watching his dunks. I still smile remembering how he made me love this game. I’ve seen amazing dunkers since—Vince Carter, Zach LaVine, Aaron Gordon—but none of them brought the combination of ferocity and flair that Wilkins did. He remains, to this day, the greatest dunker the game has ever seen. Not just because of how high he jumped, but because of how hard he landed—on the court and in our memories.

So here’s to Dominique Wilkins—The Human Highlight Film, the man who started it all for me. He didn’t need a dynasty or global marketing to leave his mark. He just needed a basketball and a ten-foot rim. And from the moment he took off, the NBA was never the same—and neither was I.