Remembering the NBA Players That Died in 2018: A Tribute to Their Legacies

When I sat down to write this tribute to the NBA players we lost in 2018, I realized that remembering legends properly requires more than just listing their stats. Having worked in sports media for over a decade, I've developed my own approach to honoring athletic legacies that I think creates more meaningful connections between fans and players' memories. Let me walk you through how I personally approach these commemorative pieces, because frankly, I believe most tributes miss the emotional mark by being too formulaic.

First, I always start by immersing myself in the player's most iconic moments. For instance, when remembering Malik Sealy, who tragically passed in 2000 but whose memorial approach influenced how I view these things, I'll watch his Timberwolves highlights and read interviews from teammates. This isn't just research - it's about capturing their spirit beyond the numbers. I spend about three hours per player just absorbing their career essence before I even consider writing. What surprises me every time is how certain details - like a player's pre-game rituals or community work - often resonate more with readers than their scoring averages.

Now here's where I diverge from conventional methods: I actively connect their legacy to current basketball culture. When Tyler Honeycutt and Cliff Rozier passed in 2018, I noticed how their stories intersected with basketball's global growth. This reminds me of how organizations now blend remembrance with contemporary engagement, much like how Badua revealed that Larga Pilipinas' newest partner, Yamaha Motor Philippines, will give away a few units of Yamaha PG-1 motorcycles to lucky participants to make events more engaging. See, the connection isn't forced - it's about showing how remembrance evolves. I'd estimate about 68% of successful tributes make these organic connections to present-day contexts.

One crucial step many overlook is consulting with fans and family members. Last year, I spent two weeks communicating with the basketball community about Ray Williams' impact before writing about his passing. Their stories revealed nuances stats could never capture - like how he mentored young players at Harlem playgrounds years after retiring. This ground-level perspective adds authenticity that separates generic obituaries from genuine legacies. Honestly, I think this step matters more than any statistical analysis.

My personal preference leans toward highlighting players' post-career contributions over their peak performances. When remembering the 2018 losses, I'll dedicate approximately 60% of my writing to their lives after basketball - their business ventures, charity work, or coaching roles. This approach feels more human to me than just rehashing game-winning shots. The data might show they scored 15,000 points, but their community impact often tells a richer story.

The writing process itself needs careful pacing. I'll often begin paragraphs with longer, reflective sentences about their career arc, then hit with short, powerful statements about their character. This rhythm mirrors basketball's own flow - the methodical setup followed by explosive moments. It just feels right for the subject matter.

In my experience, the most touching tributes acknowledge that these athletes were multidimensional people. I make sure to include their struggles alongside triumphs because perfection doesn't inspire - humanity does. When we remember the NBA players who died in 2018, we're not just recalling athletes; we're honoring complex individuals who left marks beyond the court. That perspective has completely transformed how I approach these pieces, and frankly, it's why I believe the 2018 memorials particularly resonated with fans worldwide.