Jason Williams pushes back on the notion that Victor Wembanyama is the best player to build around: “I’m going Cade”
The question is an annual parlor game for basketball fans and a critical strategic exercise for league executives: If you were starting a franchise from scratch today, which player would you build around? In the 2025-26 NBA season, the answer from those in charge seemed overwhelmingly clear. According to the league’s official General Manager Survey, a commanding 83% of GMs selected Victor Wembanyama, the San Antonio Spurs’ 7’4″ French phenom, as their foundational cornerstone.
Shai Gilgeous-Alexander was a distant second at 13%. Wembanyama, in just his third season, had already redefined the geometry of the sport, blending a guard’s skill set with a center’s frame and a defender’s instincts to create a player archetype the league had never witnessed.
Into this near-unanimous consensus stepped a dissenting voice from a past era of flair and creativity. On the podcast “Hoopin’ N Hollerin’,” former NBA champion point guard Jason “White Chocolate” Williams was presented with a list of the previous six No. 1 overall picks and asked to rank them as franchise centerpieces. His choice was immediate and definitive. “I’m going Cade Cunningham over Wemby,” Williams declared. “Then, I’m going Ant Edwards and then Wemby.”
The statement was more than a hot take; it was a philosophical grenade lobbed into the heart of modern basketball discourse. It challenged not just a player’s ranking, but the very criteria used to anoint a franchise savior. In a league increasingly dominated by versatile, positionless giants, Williams, the ultimate showman guard, was placing his bet on the classic, ball-dominant playmaker.
His argument, rooted in a belief that a guard’s impact is more immutable and system-proof than a big man’s, ignited a debate that cuts to the core of team-building philosophy, the evolution of player roles, and the timeless tension between unique talent and proven archetype.
Part I: The Architect’s Blueprint Defining the “Franchise Player”
Before dissecting Williams’ choice, we must first establish what the term “franchise player” truly entails in the modern NBA. It is a title bestowed not merely on the best player, but on the one who serves as the immutable foundation for a decade of contention.
This player is the sun around which all other roster and system decisions orbit. Historically, this role has been filled by diverse archetypes: the dominant low-post center (Hakeem Olajuwon, Shaquille O’Neal), the all-around scoring forward (Larry Bird, LeBron James), and the transcendent perimeter creator (Michael Jordan, Stephen Curry).
The criteria are multifaceted:
- Ceiling-Raising, Two-Way Impact: The player must singularly elevate a team’s performance on both ends of the floor. Their presence alone should improve offensive efficiency and defensive stoutness, turning a lottery team into a playoff contender. Advanced metrics like Player Impact Plus-Minus (PIPM), Estimated Plus-Minus (EPM), and on/off net rating splits are the modern quantifications of this intangible force.
- Durability and Availability: A cornerstone must be reliably on the court. The physical toll of an 82-game season and multiple playoff runs demands a resilient body and a manageable injury history. Giannis Antetokounmpo’s durability is as central to his value as his athleticism; Joel Embiid’s MVP-caliber peaks are often shadowed by questions of postseason availability.
- Scalability and System Fit: The ideal franchise player’s game must “scale” with better talent. They should make teammates better, not require the roster to be perfectly tailored to their weaknesses. A player whose success is contingent on a very specific, limited system (e.g., a traditional post-up center who clogs the lane) is a riskier long-term investment than one who thrives in multiple schemes.
- Age and Projected Prime Timeline: The build is for the future. The chosen player should be at the beginning or early-middle of their career, offering a long runway of elite production. A 22-year-old with All-Star potential is inherently more valuable as a foundation than a 30-year-old established superstar, regardless of current ability.
It is against this rubric that the cases for Cade Cunningham, Anthony Edwards, and Victor Wembanyama must be judged. Williams’ ranking is not a dismissal of Wembanyama’s otherworldly talent, but a specific valuation of how these criteria apply differently to a guard versus a unicorn big man.
Part II: The Case for the Guard Williams’ Philosophy and the Cunningham/Edwards Prototype
Jason Williams’ career provides the essential context for his bias. “White Chocolate” was the embodiment of the creative, tempo-controlling, pass-first point guard. His game was predicated on having the ball in his hands, reading the defense, and making decisions that dictated the flow of the game. For a player of his ilk, the guard is the engine; everything else is complementary machinery.
His argument for Cade Cunningham, and to a slightly lesser extent Anthony Edwards, is built on this guard-centric worldview and a specific interpretation of “system-proof” value.
Cade Cunningham: The Orchestrator in a Vacuum
Cunningham’s case, from Williams’ perspective, is one of demonstrated excellence in the least optimal conditions. Since being drafted first overall by the Detroit Pistons in 2021, Cunningham has operated in what can charitably be described as a roster construction disaster. The team has cyclated through coaches, failed to draft consistent shooting or secondary playmaking, and built a confounding roster of non-spacing big men and ball-dominant guards.
Yet, through this chaos, Cunningham’s production has been a beacon of stability and growth. By his third season, he was averaging 22.7 points, 7.5 assists, and 4.3 rebounds, showcasing a complete offensive package. He is a three-level scorer with size (6’6″), a patient pick-and-roll operator, and an improving shooter. Most importantly, he has shouldered a historic usage burden (often over 30%) while maintaining respectable efficiency and low turnover rates for his responsibility level.
Williams’ Implicit Argument: Cunningham’s value is proven in the hardest possible context. He hasn’t had the benefit of a Devin Vassell to space the floor or a strategic system like Gregg Popovich’s to simplify his decisions. He has been the system, often against his will. For Williams, this is the ultimate test of a franchise player. If you can excel and produce in Detroit, you can excel anywhere.
Cunningham’s game based on guard skills, decision-making, and shot creation is seen as highly portable and scalable. Put him on a team with even average spacing and shooting, and his efficiency and impact would likely skyrocket. He is the safe, high-floor bet: a known commodity of elite guard play that has thrived in the unknown.
Anthony Edwards: The Irrepressible Force
Anthony Edwards presents a slightly different, but equally compelling, guard archetype. If Cunningham is the cerebral orchestrator, Edwards is the explosive, alpha-scoring force of nature. His rise with the Minnesota Timberwolves has been built on breathtaking athleticism, fearless shot-making, and an undeniable “dawg” mentality.
Edwards’ game is built on a foundation of relentless rim pressure and improving perimeter shooting. He is a defensive menace capable of guarding multiple positions, and his competitiveness is infectious. However, as Williams subtly alluded to, Edwards’ rise coincided with the presence of veteran stabilizers like Mike Conley and the defensive anchor Rudy Gobert.
Williams’ Implicit Argument: Edwards is the proven winner and leader of the two. He has taken the mantle on a contending team and, through sheer will and talent, elevated them. His game is less about delicate orchestration and more about overpowering execution.
The Guard Prototype: A Proven Path
Williams’ preference taps into a long and successful history of NBA championships built around elite guards. From Magic Johnson and Isiah Thomas to Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Stephen Curry, and now potentially Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, the ball-handling perimeter star has been the most reliable engine for title teams.
Part III: The Wembanyama Paradigm The Case for the Unprecedented
To understand the force of the consensus against Williams, one must fully comprehend the singularity of Victor Wembanyama. His statistics are video game numbers: as a sophomore, he averaged 26.2 points, 12.9 rebounds, 3.6 blocks, 4.0 assists, and 2.1 steals per game. He led the league in blocks and rebounds, finished top-five in scoring, and became the youngest Defensive Player of the Year in NBA history. But the numbers only tell half the story.
Wembanyama’s impact is rooted in his complete deformation of the court’s geometry.
On Defense: He is not just a shot-blocker; he is a scheme eraser. His 8-foot wingspan allows him to protect the rim from the three point line. He can drop in coverage and still contest a guard’s floater, or switch onto the perimeter and smother a pick-and-roll. Players visibly alter their drives and shots simply because he is in the vicinity.
On Offense: The notion that he is “only as good as his roster” ignores his self-creating ability. He shoots over 36% from three on high volume, can put the ball on the floor from the perimeter, and has a developing face-up and post game. He is a lethal pick-and-pop threat, a capable passer out of double-teams, and an offensive rebounding menace.
The Uniqueness Argument: This is the crux of the pro-Wembanyama position. Players like Cade Cunningham and Anthony Edwards elite, scoring, two-way guards are rare, but they exist in every generation. Jayson Tatum, Luka Dončić, Devin Booker, and the aforementioned Gilgeous Alexander all fit a broadly similar superstar perimeter mold. Wembanyama has no true analogue.
The GM survey reflects this bet on unprecedented upside. Front offices are in the business of acquiring unique, non-fungible assets. Wembanyama is the most unique asset in the sport. The potential to build a decade long contender around a player who can be the best defender in the league while also being a top three scorer is an opportunity GMs believe comes once in a lifetime.
Part IV: The Fault Lines of the Debate Context, Durability, and the Burden of Proof
Williams’ specific criticism that Wembanyama wouldn’t be “hoopin'” the same way on the Memphis Grizzlies as he is on the Spurs opens the key fault lines in this debate.
The Context Argument:
Williams posits that Wembanyama’s stellar numbers are a product of the Spurs’ ecosystem the spacing provided by shooters, the playmaking of Fox, the structure of Popovich’s system. There is some truth to the idea that all players benefit from a good situation. However, the counter-argument is potent: Great players elevate their context.
Nikola Jokic made the Nuggets’ offense elite with non-shooters around him. LeBron James has dragged subpar rosters to the Finals. The belief is that Wembanyama’s singular talent would force any team, even the Grizzlies, to reconfigure and succeed around him. His defensive impact alone would transform a lottery team into a top-10 defense overnight, providing a stable floor no guard can match.
The Durability Question:
This is the unspoken but critical element in any long-term build. History has not been kind to players of Wembanyama’s height. The list of 7’3″ and taller players who sustained decade long, healthy primes is exceedingly short.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is the glorious exception, but his game was built on finesse and iconic durability. Yao Ming, Ralph Sampson, and even to an extent, Kristaps Porzingis, saw their careers shortened or hampered by lower body injuries. Every awkward landing, every collision with a 250 pound center, carries amplified risk.
A franchise investing in Wembanyama is also betting on modern sports science, load management, and his own unique biomechanics to defy historical trends. Cunningham and Edwards, as guards, represent a significantly lower long-term injury risk profile, a factor a cautious builder like Williams might heavily weigh.
The Burden of Proof:
Currently, the burden of proof lies with Williams. Cunningham and Edwards have proven they can be All-NBA level players. Wembanyama has already surpassed them, achieving First Team All-NBA and DPOY status by his second year. The on-court evidence is overwhelmingly in Wembanyama’s favor.
Part V: The Verdict Philosophy Over Consensus
In the final analysis, Jason Williams’ take is not “wrong” in a factual sense; it is simply a different prioritization of values in the franchise player calculus.
- If you prioritize a proven, portable, lower-risk archetype with a long history of championship success, you side with Williams. You take the elite guard whose game is built on skills that age well and translate to any roster. You bet on the known over the unknown, even if the unknown’s ceiling is stratospheric.
- If you prioritize unique, ceiling-raising talent that can define an era and has no physical comparison, you side with the 83% of GMs. You take the chance on a player who might be the best defensive anchor and a top-tier scorer simultaneously, accepting the inherent risks of his frame for a potential dynasty.
Williams, the artist guard, sees the game through the prism of control and creation. He values the player who can always get a bucket, always make a play, always dictate the terms. The modern NBA, however, is increasingly valuing players who warp the terms of engagement altogether. Wembanyama doesn’t just play the game; he changes the rules of the court he’s on.
The beauty of the debate is that it is fundamentally unresolvable. We will never see Cade Cunningham traded for Victor Wembanyama in a vacuum. Their careers will unfold in parallel, offering a lifelong case study. Will Cunningham, with better support, become the MVP level orchestrator who validates Williams’ faith?
Only time will tell. But by daring to challenge the consensus, Jason Williams did more than offer a hot take. He forced a re-examination of first principles, reminding us that in the complex art of team building, sometimes the most conventional choice is to go against the grain, and sometimes, the grain is moving toward a 7’4″ French revolution.