Congratulations to Dwight Howard and Chicago Bulls head coach Billy Donovan for making the Basketball Hall of Fame. It’s long overdue for both of them in different ways, and it’s a reminder that the Hall of Fame isn’t just about what happens in the NBA. It’s about basketball as a whole—the game itself, not the league. That’s why it’s called the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame, not the NBA Hall of Fame. That little distinction is important because it opens the door for players, coaches, and contributors from all over the world and across different levels of play—college, pro, Olympic, international—you name it. And that’s exactly why Carmelo Anthony belongs.
When you start thinking about Carmelo Anthony’s career, the first thing that comes to mind might be scoring. The guy could get buckets from anywhere on the court. He was a pure scorer in an era where scoring became more and more dependent on pace, analytics, and three-point shooting. Melo wasn’t always a perfect fit for the evolution of the NBA, but that never stopped him from putting the ball in the basket. And in basketball, that still matters.
What gets lost sometimes is just how consistent Carmelo was. From the moment he stepped into the league in 2003, he was expected to produce. He came in with LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Chris Bosh—that was a historic draft class—but Carmelo didn’t sit back and wait his turn. He went out there and led the Denver Nuggets to the playoffs as a rookie. That alone should have earned him Rookie of the Year, and plenty of people still believe he was snubbed. That was a 17-win team before he got there. Seventeen wins. And then Carmelo came in and they won 43 games and made the playoffs. That doesn’t happen by accident.
He was a walking 25 points per night for over a decade. And he didn’t do it by chucking up shots in meaningless games. He was the guy opponents game-planned around. He drew double-teams constantly. He made it easier for teammates because he attracted so much attention. And even with that attention, he still got his. In his prime, Carmelo had arguably the smoothest mid-range jumper in the league. He could post up, he could jab-step you to death, and he could get a shot off against anyone, anytime. That’s what made him dangerous. It wasn’t just athleticism or speed—it was craft. It was patience. It was skill.
Now if we’re going to talk about the Hall of Fame, we can’t just talk about NBA stats. We’ve got to look at the whole basketball resume. That’s where Carmelo really shines. He was a high school phenom who won a national championship at Oak Hill Academy. Then he went to Syracuse, and what did he do there? Oh, just lead them to their first and only NCAA title as a freshman. That’s not a typo. A freshman. One and done, but in the best way possible. He carried that team. You could argue he had the best single season in college basketball history for a freshman. And Jim Boeheim will be the first to tell you they don’t win that title without Melo. That championship alone should put him in the Hall of Fame discussion.
And we haven’t even touched on his Olympic resume yet. That’s where you start to see just how much Carmelo Anthony meant to the game globally. He played in four Olympic Games and won three gold medals and one bronze. He became the all-time leading scorer in U.S. men’s Olympic basketball history. And he did it by being a leader, by embracing the role of the go-to guy in international competition when a lot of NBA stars didn’t want that pressure. He loved putting on that USA jersey. He didn’t treat it like an offseason obligation—he treated it like an honor. That meant something. Still does.
There’s this weird narrative that because Carmelo never won an NBA championship, his career wasn’t complete. But that’s lazy analysis. Rings are great. But basketball isn’t golf or tennis—it’s a team sport. Melo never had a superteam like some of his peers. And when he did finally link up with other stars, like in New York with Amar’e Stoudemire or later in OKC and Houston, the timing just wasn’t right. Injuries, coaching changes, aging rosters—those things matter. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t still doing his job.
The Hall of Fame isn’t just for champions. It’s for people who changed the game, who made an impact, who helped define an era. And you can’t tell the story of 2000s and 2010s basketball without Carmelo Anthony. He was part of that elite class of forwards who could play bully ball and finesse at the same time. Kevin Durant looked up to him. So did Paul George. So did Jayson Tatum. That mid-range face-up game? That didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Melo was doing that when guys were still trying to figure out how to space the floor.
And off the court, let’s not ignore what Carmelo stood for. He was one of the more vocal athletes in using his platform to speak on social justice issues, especially in the later part of his career. He helped start conversations that mattered, using his voice alongside other leaders in the game. And let’s not forget that during the period when it looked like no team wanted him—when he was basically blackballed for being “too much of a scorer” or “not a good fit”—he stayed ready. He didn’t cry. He didn’t beg. He stayed in shape. He waited for the right opportunity. And when Portland called, he showed everyone he could still play.
That stretch with the Trail Blazers might not have added much to his legacy statistically, but it meant a lot in terms of how we remember him. He embraced a role. He became a mentor. He hit big shots. He helped them win games. And he earned back a level of respect that had started to fade in some circles. That was Carmelo proving something to the world—and maybe to himself, too.
People forget just how hard it is to do what he did. To be that guy for so long. To carry that much offensive responsibility for that many years. To take all the criticism and keep coming back. It takes mental toughness. It takes love for the game. And it takes an incredible amount of skill. Carmelo didn’t get by on athleticism alone. He got by on footwork, angles, balance, and a shooter’s touch.
There were so many iconic moments. The 62-point game at Madison Square Garden. That stretch in 2012-2013 when he had the Knicks playing their best basketball in a decade. That Olympic performance against Nigeria in 2012 when he hit ten threes and made it look like a video game. The battles with Kobe, LeBron, KD, and Pierce. He gave fans memories. He gave us something to talk about. That’s what Hall of Famers do.
So when his name is called at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony, it won’t be a surprise. It’ll be a celebration. A thank you. An acknowledgment that Carmelo Anthony didn’t just play basketball—he lived it. From Baltimore playgrounds to Syracuse glory to Olympic gold to NBA stardom, he gave everything he had to the game. And the game gave something back: immortality.
It’s kind of poetic when you think about it. The guy who was once criticized for not playing the “right” way—whatever that means—is now being honored in the biggest way. Because the right way, it turns out, is being yourself. And Carmelo Anthony was always himself. Unapologetically. Authentically. Relentlessly.
Here’s the thing folks: There’s a whole generation of basketball fans who grew up trying to shoot like Melo, trying to jab-step like Melo, trying to rock the hoodie like Melo. That’s impact. That’s legacy. And that’s why this honor means more than just a plaque or a speech or a few highlights. It means that Carmelo’s place in basketball history is secure. Forever.
With that… The Basketball Hall of Fame includes people from all walks of the game. And now, it includes a kid from Red Hook who dreamed big, scored bigger, and left a mark no one can erase. He didn’t need a title to validate his career. He didn’t need a farewell tour. What he needed—what he earned—was respect. And now, he’s got that, too.
So while we’re clapping for Dwight Howard finally getting his due, and while Bulls fans are smiling wide for Billy Donovan’s well-deserved recognition, we should all take a second to tip our hats to Carmelo Anthony. Not just a scorer. Not just a star. A Hall of Famer. A lifer in the game. One of the best to ever do it.
If you cannot play with them, then root for them!