If you’ve ever taken in the tension of the NBA Playoffs, imagine this: you’re a 23-year-old point guard, heart racing, palms sweaty, playing in your first-ever postseason, and staring across the court is John Stockton—a 10-time All-Star, the NBA’s all-time assists leader with 15,806 dimes, and a guy who played all 82 games in 16 of his 19 seasons. That was Mike Bibby in 2002, lining up for the Sacramento Kings against the Utah Jazz legend. And what he learned in that series? It stuck with him forever.

Over the years, Mike Bibby and Stockton clashed 27 times in total, with Bibby just edging him out 14–13. But ask any fan—or Bibby himself—and the battle that still stands out is the 2002 Playoffs. That season, Bibby was running the point for a powerhouse Kings team stacked with Chris Webber, Doug Christie, Peja Stojaković, and Vlade Divac. Sacramento had finished with the NBA’s best regular-season record at 61–21 and breezed through the early postseason rounds. But in the opening series against Stockton’s Jazz, the intensity shot up. Bibby delivered, averaging 22.7 points, 4.4 assists, and 3.6 rebounds over seven games. Still, those numbers only tell part of the story—what really defined that matchup was the experience of going toe-to-toe with Stockton.

Sitting down on the Straight Game podcast, Mike Bibby reflected on that playoff debut and exactly what it felt like to face Stockton. “Like Stockton will f— you up and make it look like it was your fault,” Bibby said. “He’s just tough man, he’s one of the toughest players to ever play the game. You see he played for like 20 years, I think he played for 18 straight years without missing a game. He’s a tough guy. He’d hold you, he’d grab you, even when he was on offense he’d do that.”

Did John Stockton really earn every assist? The truth behind the numbers

If you ask Chris Paul, the answer is pretty simple—nobody’s catching John Stockton. Back in 2019, CP3 put it with a grin: “Ain’t nobody catching that… I don’t know who the statisticians were, who used to do the stats in Utah, but ain’t nobody catching that.” It was a rare moment of playful shade from one of the most respected floor generals of this generation, and it hit home for a lot of players who’d been feeling the same way. Paul later softened his stance, crediting Stockton’s incredible durability instead. But the seed was planted.

And Mike Bibby? He wasn’t about to let that moment pass without some backup. On the podcast, Bibby jumped in with a story that said a lot without needing fancy math: “I came out so—you know—you match yourself against point guards and it’s like, okay, I had a good game. You know, Stockton had 12 points, 15 assists, I had 22 points—I had to have at least 10 assists. I go to the game, I got one assist, man. I said, ain’t no way they get me for one assist. They screwing my assist up and giving Stockton [more] because a lot of times people—it’s a judgment call.” He explained how scorekeepers make those calls in real-time: Did the guy dribble too much? Was it a clean setup? And in Utah, according to Bibby, Stockton always got the call. “They was giving him every benefit of the doubt, and the opposing teams weren’t getting the benefit of the doubt well.”

It’s not just talk either. Former NBA stat guys like Alex Rucker have pulled back the curtain a bit. Speaking to Pablo Torre, Rucker admitted that back then, the culture around statkeeping was less science and more spectacle. “They’d show us a Stockton and Malone clip,” he said. “To me, there’s no causal connection between the pass and the basket. The majority opinion by a mile was, ‘Oh no, that’s definitely an assist. That’s John Stockton.’” So was there home bias? Yes. But here’s the kicker: every legend got that treatment. Jason Kidd actually had a bigger home-road assist gap. Paul himself has one.

Now, even if you took a red pen to Stockton’s numbers—scrubbed 5% of his assists as “too generous” or just used his lower road averages—he’d still be miles ahead. Because the truth is, the man was a machine. He missed only 22 games in 19 seasons. Played into his 40s. Had Karl Malone finishing nearly everything he touched. And he ran Jerry Sloan’s pass-heavy Flex offense to perfection. Were some of his assists questionable? Sure. But most were just the result of an Ironman point guard making the smart play, over and over again.