We’re barely a quarter of the way through the 2025-26 NBA season, but cut the cigar tips anyway. Pour champagne. Fill it to the brim. Watch the veil of bubbles dance around the glass. Kiss someone. Check with them first, don’t be a creep about it, but if they’re down just go ahead and plant one. Why wait until the end of the season to celebrate and give flowers? Let’s enjoy the moment and relish the basketball before us. It’s time to hand out the most important thing known to man: fake awards.
My colleague Michael Pina made his selections for actual awards last week. MVP, Coach of the Year, things of that nature. This is the League Pass version, an off-the-radar, party-forward compendium of NBA players, curios, and idiosyncrasies that have grabbed our eyes and caught our attention. We’re over a quarter of the way into the season and it’s high time we start making stuff up. Eccentricities abound in The Year of Our Dort 2025. It’s time for another installment of The Passies.
The Live Más Award: Jordan Goodwin and Collin Gillespie
Brought to you by Taco Bell and this guy I saw once who took all the Andes mints out of a bowl in the Thunder’s media dining room. There had to be 30-plus mints in there. I wanted to be him. Delightful little confections. Olive Garden knows what they’re doing, making that your final bite before the exit. They send you out on a high note. I’ve gotten off track. The Live Más Award is given to the player or players who best exemplify the live más lifestyle with their on-court play. Those last words are crucial. This is specifically about what happens on the floor, and when Goodwin and Gillespie are on the floor, they live extremely más. What does it mean to live más? If you have to ask, you’ll never know.
Goodwin, it doesn’t matter who he’s playing for or how many minutes he’s getting. At every stop, at every moment, he has embraced his situation without reservation, given everything of himself, and stayed committed to making sure the vibe is right. If the party sucks, it’s not his fault. He brought the ice, made the playlist, even whipped up some homemade calzones. He’s doing all he can. In Phoenix this year, he is guarding like crazy, throwing his body around, and playing like he lights his hair on fire for fun. He also looks great in a headband, which, like wisdom, is a virtue.
Gillespie, he has graduated from fringe piece to key cog—someone who will ruin your day and smile about it. He has a consta-grind mentality and shot-making bonafides that carry him to extreme competence, a belief that everybody on the floor has to prove they belong out there with him, too. Gillespie might not get the better of your favorite guard, but he will annoy the hell out of them and wear cool shoes while he does it. Another in a long line of Grinch Kobe 6 disciples, footwear with so much staying power they’ll still be around post-World War III.
Jordan Ott with Collin Gillespie and Jordan Goodwin during a game against the Atlanta Hawks
The Suns were a slog last year, a talented group of players way worse than the sum of their parts and a total drag to hang out with. Cut to now and they’ve been one of the most pleasant surprises in the league, precisely because they’re embracing the sort of all-out, headlong-into-the-stands, scrap-for-everything energy Goodwin and Gillespie are bringing. They are a bear to play against. You may leave with a win, but you’ll be bruised. You’ll have worked for it.
The Warped Wing for Strangeness in Dunking: Jay Huff
I had a teammate in college named Al. When he first arrived on campus, he told us to call him “Birdman,” so that’s what we did. When Al dunked, which was often, we did the Napoleon Dynamite bird hands. The thing about the dunks, though—they were almost exclusively reverse dunks. It led to some outrageous posters, confusing defenders who thought they were meeting him face-to-face at the rim only to find out, no, the meeting had been changed to more of a face-to-back situation.
I think of Al every time I see Jay Huff because, all things being equal, my man would rather punch one in blind than look upon his works. It’s his dunk of choice. He’s enamored with it. Huff will break it out off the dribble, on lobs, in traffic, and by himself. If he has his druthers, he’s hitting reverse.
Are there better dunkers? Of course. Are there more novel dunkers? Absolutely not. It’s probably a strange kind of competitive advantage? Nobody else in the league does it. If you’re a defender, going about your biz, coming over to help, and someone tries to mash on you, you are expecting them to dunk a certain way. Chest meets chest, maybe chest meets shoulder. Huff eschews the normal and catches them by surprise, leads with his spine.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Huff hooped for the Hoos in college and the personal section of his Virginia media guide bio included the phrase, “cleaned up a museum bear habitat.” I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that phrase has not appeared in a media guide bio before or since. Does the exhibit have anything to do with what we’re talking about here? Absolutely not. Not even a little bit. It’s just that, from a journalistic perspective, my hands are tied. Anything involving the cleaning of museum bear habitats must be mentioned. Wahoowa.
The Barkhad Abdi "I'm the Captain Now” Prize: Jalen Johnson
Jalen Johnson is the best player on the Atlanta Hawks. Things have been trending this way for awhile. Now it’s undeniable. With Trae Young out, Johnson has established himself as the Hawks’ lead monster and he is flourishing. The fifth-year forward outta Duke has been giving opposing teams the full buffet so far this season. He’s a highly skilled wave. He washes over a defense, drowns them in the breadth of his bag and decision-making. He is constantly flirting with triple-doubles, winking at them, grazing their hand with his, telling them they are beautiful and different from everyone else.
Johnson finds the time to do basically everything. Initiates possessions, grabs rebounds, goes to the rim, hits 3s, gets to the line, helps the less fortunate. Those players who aren’t going to get a bucket on their own, Johnson says I see you and I change you. He has become an all-purpose doommaker, throwing smoke and staying busy. This is a no-doubt-about-it All-Star, and if he stays healthy he’ll have a stellar case for All-NBA. It’s the Jalen Johnson era in Atlanta now. Tune in. Watch him boom.
Most Lovable Losers: The New Orleans Pelicans
The New Orleans Pelicans are not a good basketball team. They aren’t even decent. Most nights, it would probably be a stretch to call them competitive. And yet, kind of a fun watch! Despite incompetent ownership, a baffling front office, an early-season coaching change, and an underwhelming Zion, this team is actually entertaining.
Trey Murphy III remains criminally underrated and a real-deal firestarter. And check out Jerry No Fears flashing a helluva lotta substance on the ball. There’s an inner confidence to him that reads as “I don’t care who you are, I’m Jerry No Fears and you will respect me or be on the business end of one of my many buckets.” He is small, yes, but he also has rubber legs. Benny the Jet had those. Give Fears a few years, he’ll pickle some beasts too.
And then there’s Derik Queen. Queen’s got the goods, yall. He plays with the flash on, gets bright. Here’s a big who can put it on the deck, put you in a blender, and get his own. He’s also philanthropic, he shares the wealth, helps those who cannot help themselves. He’s already one of the more skilled big man passers in the league and I assume Joe Dumars wakes every morning, rolls out of bed, checks both his phones, and kisses a portrait of Queen he keeps on his nightstand.
The NBA faces a shortage of pettiness, pot-stirring, and tomfoolery. Enter Queen. In a game against Atlanta last week, the Hawks were up big, 115-86, with under 20 seconds left in the game and under three seconds left on the shot clock. Atlanta’s Vit Krejci was content to just dribble the ball out, take the violation, and call it a day. But Queen wasn’t having it. When Krejci’s back was turned, Queen sprinted from outside the frame, poked the ball free, went to the other end, and dunked it. 115-88. Krejci took the ensuing inbound, dribbled the ball back down the floor, and tried to get in Queen’s face. Jawing ensued. I love this game.
The Jason Williams Prize for Humor in Assists: Nikola Jokic
Nikola Jokic remains the best passer alive. He is also the funniest. Denver’s Serbian big man has tossed more than a couple kneeslappers already this season. His second-funniest pass was a no-look cross-court rope past two helpless Rockets that landed in Bruce Brown’s hands and ended in a missed 3. The fact that Brown missed the shot didn’t stop Amazon play-by-play man Ian Eagle from laughing his head off.
Eagle howled at that glorious missed connection with the kind of unbridled cackle that Conan let loose after Norm’s I bet it’s spelled B-O-R-E-D joke re: Chairman of the Board. Jokic’s best pass, arguably the winter’s hottest new comedy, happened against the Grizz late last month. Dream Catcher’s Daddy got the ball on the perimeter, halfway between the right wing and the top of the key. Santi Aldama was there on the catch. He was also in hell. Jokic takes the Spaniard off the bounce, a couple dribbles with his left paw into the heart of the defense. When help arrives, Big Honey reverse pivots away from the crowd and in one motion drops the ball off to a wide-open Peyton Watson under the goal. A short joke, with practically no setup, that hits like a hammer. A punchline this audacious, unfurled so casually, you can’t help but roar.
Most Generous Hair: Jaylen Brown
Jaylen Brown cares about people. The shirt off his back? That’s small taters, amigos. The 2024 Finals MVP will give you the hair off his head. Let’s take that again. He will give you the “hair” off his head. Sorry, back to one. He will give you the hair-fiber spray off his head.
It’s happened three times already. Have we forgotten Carlos Boozer? Have we gotten so far from his disaster paint job in Chicago that the lesson has to be learned again? The advantages do not outweigh the risks. Either shave the whole thing, go to Turkey, or get comfortable with the follicles you’ve been dealt.
Most Magisterial Mountain: Steven Adams
You will root Steven Adams out from under the basket just as soon as hell freezes over. Here is the list of teams Adams has been on since his sophomore season, as well as their league rank in offensive rebounds per game.
2014-15: Thunder, tied for first
2015-16: Thunder, first
2016-17: Thunder, tied for first
2017-18: Thunder, first
2018-19: Thunder, first
2019-20: Thunder, dead last (cursed year, genuinely confused)
2020-21: Pelicans, first
2021-22: Grizzlies, first
2022-23: Grizzlies, fourth (Adams played only 42 games)
2023-24: DNP-injury
2024-25: Rockets, first
2025-26: Rockets, first
That’s nine first-place finishes in 12 seasons, one of which he did not play. Point being, if Adams is healthy and on your team, you’re most likely going to lead the league in offensive rebounding. He is the greatest offensive board man of his generation, one of the best in history. He will pick up 7-footers and remove them from the kerfuffle. Big Kiwi’s an NBA colossus, a walking second chance, a savant on the glass.
Steven Adams and NaeQwan Tomlin go up for the rebound during a game on November 19
Something Zen-like about him. He never gets too riled, never plays beyond his means, never forgets who he is. He also gives great hugs. He has a history of boxing out cows. I don’t think it’s outrageous to say Adams could box out three cows at once, maybe even a couple horses. It would take four Reed Sheppards sitting on each other’s shoulders to get a rebound over Adams. Afterward, the Reeds will don a trench coat and try to sneak into an R-rated movie. Bow to the Box Out Mamba. Bow to the Cattle King. Treat him with respect or get shucked.
Most Magisterial Mountain Range: Zach Edey
Zach Edey is an eclipse. 7-3, 305 pounds of towering Canadian. Steven Adams is big. Edey is gargantuan, like the Rockies, like the sky, like a planet. Pete Newell would blush and say a prayer. He would fall to his knees and enter into a manic state of euphoric wonder. He would float. He would swoon and say, “Who is the mastodonic vision and can I watch him do drop steps for five hours?” He would need a cold shower.
This is a big ole boy right here. Injuries kept Edey out the first 13 games of the season, but the mammoth Grizzly is making up for lost time. In the 11 games he’s played, he has grabbed 15 or more rebounds five times and is averaging over two blocks a game. I’m saying, the game matches the man. There are times Edey looks like a redwood playing against a bunch of saplings. He grabbed 19 boards against the Clips late last month then two nights later bossed Sacramento into submission. I know it’s the Kangz, but 32 points, 19 boards, and three blocks. Even against the Fightin’ Viveks, that’s good eating.
Biggest Bellyacher (Non-Luka Division): Alperen Sengun
I’ve long felt that, so long as he’s playing, Luka Doncic would lead the league in begs for calls. But after watching the first quarter of this season, Alperen Sengun may have something to say about that. Because he is going to complain, always, about everything.
The carping is continuous and exhausting. Sengun is an amazing offensive player, one of the most skilled bigs in the league, a perennial All-Star candidate with All-NBA potential. It should be a joy to watch him, but the begging does not stop. Like Doncic, Sengun has way too much game to be doing all this grumping. It’s unbecoming of someone with his talent and probably hurts him with officials in the long run. A player who’s constantly exasperated, constantly aggrieved, constantly *waves arms wildly*, no matter how dynamic they are on offense, winds up wearing down the viewer. Apologies to Dillon Brooks and Chris Finch, who also deserve mentions here.
The Golden Iverson for Best Accessory: Anthony Edwards
Seventh-grade basketball. Fort Gibson, Oklahoma. A home game against Checotah. This was 2001, the peak of the Iverson era. And with peak Iverson came peak accoutrements. Headbands, sweatbands, finger bands, arm sleeves, the works. And we seventh-graders in rural Oklahoma were enthralled. One day before a game, several of us went to Arrowhead Mall in Muskogee and bought various pieces of flair. And that night we decked ourselves out. We were accessorising hard. Every player on the team had at least a couple of sweatbands on our person and some of the guys left no appendage unadorned.
Our team, like most middle school basketball squads, was coached by one of the assistant coaches for the high school football team. Coach Taylor had no time for any of this. After warm-ups we went to the bench and huddled before starting lineups. Coach looked at us with a face that said, “I hate this and you.” Then he spoke.
“Thirty-seven. I counted. Thirty-seven pieces of crap total on y’all, and if we lose tonight, y’all are running a down-and-back for each one of them.”
We won. Anthony Edwards is winning too. The sweatband on the left calf, I have no idea if it’s accomplishing anything at all. What’s his perspiration situation? Does his left leg sweat more than his right? Don’t know, don’t care. It looks cool. And that’s enough.
“But people should wear sweatbands only on their arms,” you say. First of all, listen to yourself. You sound like an idiot. Second of all, legs are basically arms.
The Gansey Medallion for Excellence in Undershirt: Kenrich Williams
Named after the current general manager of the Cleveland Cavaliers and onetime West Virginia standout Mike Gansey, who wore the beefiest undershirt in recent memory. The sleeves plumed and hung below his elbows. We used to be a country.
Mike Gansey during the Big East men’s basketball championship on March 9, 2005
Kenrich Williams’s T isn’t swimming in the same waters as Gansey/Randolph Childress/Charles O’Bannon. Those shirts were whales. Williams’s shirts are sharks and more in line with Stacey Augmon’s UNLV look. And what a look that is.
There are more undershirts in the league now than ever before. Every team has at least one guy rocking some kind of short-sleeved Dri-Fit something, but these are mainly skin-tight Lockjaw-level shirts. Williams’s sartorial choices hearken back to another time, a time of ease and comfort.
Most Concerning Press Conference Answer: Joe Mazzulla
Some people say you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Joe Mazzulla has never heard that saying. Most people, when confronted with a child asking them a sincere question, will put on a happy face. Joe Mazzulla does not believe in happiness. He believes in work and pain. He believes in the art of the grouch.
Earlier this season, the Celtics hosted a Kids Day at the Garden. One intrepid child reporter had a question for Mazzulla: How does he balance pushing players to improve while also keeping the game fun for them? Before he answered, Mazzulla made this face.
Then he said, “I struggle with that, to be honest with you. I think everyone has a different definition of fun and you have to find one as a team. You know, I think fun’s a cop-out sometimes. When things aren’t going well everybody likes to say, ‘Well, let’s just have fun,’ and it’s like, well, what does that mean?”
Just want to interrupt Joe for a sec and reiterate that he’s talking to a child.
“And so I think you have to define what fun looks like as a team and then you have to go after that.”
You already said that, Joe.
“But that phrase can be a cop-out sometimes …”
That, too. You’re repeating yourself.
“So as you get older, kid, don’t use it. It’s like, ‘Ahh, I just want to have fun.’ What does that mean?”
Dude, you have already asked that question.
“So, you know, you just gotta define that. I struggle with that.”
I have to say: This answer is shockingly sincere? He treats the kid with respect, gives an honest answer, and makes himself sound like potentially the worst hang of all time. I hope he never changes. The Celtics have been surging of late, keeping their heads above water without Jayson Tatum. This speaks to Mazzulla’s battering ram ethos. He just refuses to let up, coaches like his life depends on it, and expects his team to play the same way. Just don’t ask him to dinner.
