Tracy McGrady: ‘Replace Me with Kobe and Shaq? Of Course I’d Win a Championship!
There are things we never forget about growing up: that summer afternoon watching Tracy McGrady launch impossible shots, the hush that fell over Orlando’s crowd when he caught fire, the promise of greatness. But some I remember with a bittersweet twist—because we all wondered, when we saw those impossible buckets, where the rings at?
And today, McGrady picked up that question again. On First Take, he didn’t hold back: “Replace me with Kobe Bryant with Shaq, I don’t win a championship? You don’t think I can carry the Lakers to a championship?”
A What-If That’s Too Loud to Ignore
Imagine it. It’s early 2000s L.A. Show-Time Lakers: Shaquille O’Neal, massive and unstoppable. Kobe Bryant, a shooting guard with ice water in his veins. Now swap Kobe for McGrady. Sounds out there? McGrady thinks not.
He laid it out simply—they did win. McGrady is saying, give me the chance with Shaq, and I deliver—because he earned the right. A seven-time All-NBA player, two-time scoring champion, and consistently among MVP candidates from 2001–03. He had the numbers, had the skill, had the swagger. So why no ring?
Because context matters. Here is a guy who gave us breathtaking possessions—turnaround threes, step-back bombs in traffic, gravity-defying drives. His highlight reels could stand next to Kobe’s and Steph’s and Wade’s. But what did he miss? He never got that situation.
On First Take, he called out the whole idea—ring culture. He said LeBron was right in criticizing it: too many incredible players don’t get legacy credit just because timing, teammates, health, or luck didn’t break their way.
Talent Isn’t the Whole Story
He pointed at Kobe and Shaq, who not only had raw greatness running through their veins—they had opportunity. He said, replace me with Kobe when he had Shaq— you don’t think I could win a championship?
Let’s be honest. Kobe had Shaq—a dominant inside force, Finals MVP three times, brought in rings. Could McGrady have stepped into that same offense? Many analysts say yes. Gilbert Arenas said second options with rings rarely get historical credit. “Kobe had three rings and he was treated like a sidekick” until he led post-Shaq. That kind of nuance—we don’t always see that talked about. McGrady did.
Look at the resumes: he finished top-8 in MVP voting six times. He was MVP-level for a stretch. He scored 26.8 one year, 32 points per night another. His offense carried teams to playoffs. Yet, first-round exits plagued his resume. He never got the chance to stretch into deep Eastern Conference runs until late in his career.
Fans on X (formerly Twitter) had mixed reactions:
- One user argued: “T-Mac could have been 2nd best to Shaq easily”— lots of rings.
- Others rolled their eyes: “Could Shaq carry T-Mac?” “Yes, of course.”
- And some pointed out, “You can’t just plug anyone into that Lakers ’00 dynasty, Kobe was clutch.”
That line of thinking reminds us—how many variables are there in team sports? Talent shows you can be, but rings say you were.
The Human Side—No Clashes, Just Chances
Here’s another twist: McGrady says he wouldn’t have clashed with Shaq like Kobe did. Their careers diverged wildly in personality. Kobe and Shaq butted heads—pride, roles, heat. McGrady says that doesn’t apply to him. He didn’t roll that way. That sounds like a guy who’s confident in himself, not desperate to overshadow others.
Imagine: a Lakers team built around Shaq and T-Mac. You’ve got inside dominance and an electric scorer who lifts a team quietly. No drama, no power struggle, just synergy. In today’s basketball, where chemistry matters, that’d be a dream.
Your mind drifts to those Lakers—Games 1 and 2 of the 2000 Finals, Shaq torching the Pacers, then Kobe taking over. Now picture T-Mac pulling 30 in Game 2 after Shaq buried 45. It’s cinematic. Becomes a different legacy story.
Legacy, Luck, and Landmines
The world judges greatness by rings. But think: Jordan drafted Pippen, Heat built around LeBron, teams dotted with role players. These choices shaped NBA history.
McGrady points that out: “I never had the opportunity. If I’d been there? I’d have shown up.” He wasn’t complaining—just stating facts. He’s reminding us: a player is never just his stats.
He’s right. We’ve seen jewel careers tarnished by injuries (Hill, Rose, Yao). We’ve seen greats go to great teams and flourish. Context isn’t everything, but it’s crucial.
Ring culture can blind us. LeBron brought it up. McGrady doubled down.
Closing the What-If Loop
So did T-Mac earn it? Definitely. Was he offered the stage? Not quite. Would he have rocked out with Shaq in L.A.? He believes so—and he earned the right to say it. Between his MVP runs, six All-NBA nods, and scoring titles, he’s earned the microphone.
What’s powerful is the idea that sometimes our heroes don’t end with championships—not because of skill, but because of timing. That’s human. It’s messy.
When I picture McGrady alongside Shaq, I see flashes of memorable moments—Shaq bullying inside, McGrady unstoppable from outside, two styles that complement. No animosity, just talent. On paper, it’d have been epic.
Maybe they’d get one ring. Maybe two. Then again, maybe not. But the point isn’t the number—it’s the fact the conversation never even happened for real. He wants credit for the possibility.
In the end, T-Mac reminded us to pause before judging greatness. Rings matter—but so do missed chances, injuries, weak teams, countless shifting sands that shape legacies. He left us thinking: what if?
In a world that constantly hunts titles, we forget stories like his—brilliance without hardware, magic on the court, but no trinket to show for it. And today, he asked for the spotlight. He asked that we remember.