In his first decade in D.C., John Wall has provided a rare trait: stability

Ten years later, John Wall still doesn’t get enough credit.

History has proven that No. 1 overall picks can’t be saviors by their lonesome. Forget Michael Olowokandi (1998), Anthony Bennett (2013) and other whiffs of the last quarter-century (Wizards fans might recall one taken by Michael Jordan). Even good to great players like Blake Griffin (2009), Derrick Rose (2008), and Anthony Davis (2012), for varying reasons, never led the teams that selected them to even the NBA Finals. It’s even more telling that the last top overall pick to lead the franchise that drafted him to a title – Kyrie Irving, first overall to Cleveland, in 2011 – had to join forces with the franchise’s previous top overall pick, a fellow named LeBron, who had to first leave and return a champion before fulfilling the promise. The pressure of reshaping the perception and projection of a lousy organization is often too great, with the failings producing so many bitter feelings that a breakup is inevitable.

Tim Duncan (number one overall in 1997) is the only true franchise foundational piece to be found through the luck of some ping pong balls; no other player chosen first in the weighted lottery era (circa 1990) won multiple championships while playing his entire career with the same team. (David Robinson went first overall in 1987, when David Stern was still pulling envelopes out of a fish bowl, and didn’t touch the Larry O’Brien trophy until Duncan came along. Hakeem Olajuwon was drafted first overall by Houston in 1984, the year before the lottery era began, and ended his career as a Raptor.) Of all the players taken first overall since Duncan, Wall is the only one to have stayed with his original organization for at least 10 seasons. And just four of the players chosen No. 1 after Wall still remain with their original team.

That speaks to the unique bond that Wall has been able to forge with the Wizards, a franchise that needed him to come to the rescue when he was drafted in 2010. Wall has provided Washington some respectability, something that has been in short supply in the organization’s non-Wes Unseld (1968-81) years. Wall and the Wizards remain connected by a contract that won’t be easily moved if they tried, but which also reciprocated loyalty. They have always needed each other. He’s never barked about being traded; they’ve always come correct with the cash.

Others who have shown up to either Madison Square Garden or Barclays Center over the past two decades expecting to hear the NBA commissioner call his name first selected flashier, attention-grabbing attire. Wall chose simple over swaggy— some would say southern Baptist minister conservative even — with a chocolate pinstripe suit when he joined the Wizards 10 years ago, on June 24, 2010.

The look belied a game, his game, which has embraced showmanship and pizzazz. But it captured who he was at that time — smoothing over some unrefined edges while overly concerned about image and perception. Wall joined a franchise that had endured the misery of guns and Gilbert Arenas’s “Pick One” to earn the No. 1 pick that year.

Wall arrived in Washington affable, marketable, charismatic and determined to rule until he realized the rest of the league doesn’t just bend to your will because you want something.  He was stupidly criticized for doing the Dougie during the introduction of his first home opener, detractors forgetting that he won the game by nearly posting a quadruple double (and yeah, he was barely 20). He was humbled by the challenge but undeterred, keeping a checklist of slights for motivation until he got (some of) the respect he deserved.

He’s always been genuine and forthcoming, unwilling to make excuses for his shortcomings, unafraid to cry for his mother, Frances Pulley, when he was awarded his first generational-wealth-altering extension. He adjusted into being more of a scorer after growing frustrated about being overlooked by a game that stopped celebrating traditional, unselfish point guards who excelled as setup men. He’s clowned defenders with 360-degree layups, taken off of that right leg to dunk lefty on them. He’s left skid marks on the floor with his full-court sprints to the rim. He’s made sincere investments of his time and money into local charities. And, he’s managed to play with an angry edge while also having fun.

More Wizards fans gravitated to Wall’s superstar predecessor, Arenas, because he played up the underdog angle to the point that he appeared to be one of them. What a player does in their time with a community has a more lasting effect than longevity, which explains why Arenas can still trigger emotions despite a mere three-year run of zero-to-hero magic.

Wall was always sold as special, status unattainable, but that never stopped him from being his authentic self, from being relatable. He’s one of three players in franchise history to make at least five all-star teams, joining Big Wes and Elvin Hayes. He tops the franchise list for assists and steals and would’ve been nipping at Hayes in scoring had he been able to stay healthy the past two seasons. He was well on his way to countering a magnetic personality with more wins. Then came a career interrupted.

No longer the overly ambitious and somewhat naive kid with just enough peach fuzz on his chin to suggest that he was mature enough to handle what was in store, Wall is a grown-ass man these days seeking more. A few months shy of 30, Wall is a father of two, his life hardened earlier this year by the loss of his mother and rock. He’s chasing his first ring and not-so-distant past that haunts him as he recovers from an Achilles injury that has stolen 18 precious months of his prime.

Wall never had a season that topped the 2016-17 campaign that found him earning All-NBA honors at 26, and combining with Bradley Beal to put the Wizards within a Game 7 of the franchise’s first conference finals in nearly four decades. If he had never gotten better and were able to play out these past three seasons at something close to that level, Wall would be a god in Washington; the unquestioned face of professional sports in the city.

Instead, he’s battled injury after injury, bone spurs on bone spurs, and whenever he returns will have to share the marquee with a Beal who has used the time apart to separate himself and find a home amongst the league’s elite. And, in Wall’s relative absence from prominence, the city’s other two heralded No. 1 picks in hockey (Alexander Ovechkin) and baseball (Stephen Strasburg) have delivered on their hype and brought championship parades down Constitution Avenue. The Mystics would’ve had one, too, if that pesky coronavirus hadn’t mucked up all of 2020.

The Wizards have four playoff appearances and three series wins with Wall at the helm, a relatively disappointing resume for Ringzz culture and anyone not viewing the circumstances surrounding the franchise — and franchise point guards this millennium — during this era. Little guys need help or luck. Wall hasn’t had much of either.

Stephen Curry has been the prototype, winning three championships with his revolutionary long-range marksmanship. But he’s not winning those titles without the emergence of two all-star running mates and the addition of a former MVP. Irving has yet to win a playoff series as the lead dog on teams without the assistance of James.

Damian Lillard is just two months older than Wall and was able to reach the conference finals, in the superior West, without another all-star on his team. That’s fair, but again, when Lillard got there, Wall was sidelined with an injury. Chris Paul, a future Hall of Famer considered the best playmaker of the past 15 years, didn’t reach the conference finals until he was 33.

This isn’t to give Wall a pass, only to offer some perspective. Wall can assume some blame for not taking the Wizards higher, but the hole from where he was asked to lift the franchise cannot be dismissed. He joined a locker room lacking professionalism and accountability and didn’t come out of it on the other end with a warped sense of what was required to reach greatness. He’s watched first-round draft picks meant to offer support get squandered, dissolved into cap space.

After leading the Wizards to back-to-back playoff series wins for the first time since the Unseld days, Wall had to watch as the organization got almost everything embarrassingly wrong in making an ill-conceived attempt to lure Kevin Durant back home in 2016. That failure brought out the best in Wall, landed him a record-breaking extension … and put way too much responsibility on him to maintain All-NBA production without consistent production from players other than Beal.

Feeling even more pressure from the hefty contract than he ever did because of his draft position, Wall plowed through when he should’ve taken precautions. His stubborn refusal to listen to the hints his body was giving resulted in an injury that was too serious for him to ignore.

In the one-and-done era, franchises are asked to mold teenagers into legends, to keep them engaged and sold on the plan before they get bored and look elsewhere. This period in NBA history has also been about stars joining forces in locations that are either sunny, good for brand building, or both. The Wizards have kept a hold on Wall despite asking him to make do with their foibles. Wall has elicited a commitment from the organization as it waits for him to return to what he once was.

The past decade with Wall has neither been an overwhelming success nor a failure. But it should be appreciated for what it is: a rarity.