The Dan Le Batard Show with Stugotz - 30 for 30 Podcasts: Chasing Basketball Heaven

Episode Date: July 22, 2025

Today, the 3-point shot is king in the NBA. But has it ruined basketball? The tale of a reclusive genius who predicted basketball’s future, then vanished. What he left behind: A website. And maybe buried treasure. From 30 for 30 Podcasts, Chasing Basketball Heaven follows two sports reporters as they take an unforgettable trip through basketball history and uncover the lengths a person might go to be remembered. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

You've seen the headlines, you've heard the debates. The three pointer has ruined basketball. Has it though? It's a tired conversation that often blames Stephen Curry, but we here at MetalArk cracked the code. We found the guy you can blame for the current state of the NBA. What you're about to hear is a story about one of the founding fathers of NBA analytics, a guy who is known in some circles as the Bill James of basketball.

Two things make him fascinating. He's completely forgotten, no one knows him. Daryl Morey doesn't know him. No one at MIT Sloan Analytics knows him. And yet, there are many people who don't follow basketball but do know him because of his second act. When he turned his obsession with efficiency into a roadmap for perfecting his own death and then followed through with it. Dark turn. That was our pitch to 30 for 30. We teamed up with ESPN and Anna McKay's Hyper Object to tell this story, and this is the result. Basketball heaven.

Hope you enjoy. Some might think it's odd for a man to release the rights of his greatest work, but not Martin Manley. I, Martin Manley, being the creator and owner of this site, neither hold nor retain any claim or copyright on any part of this. Rather, I release all rights to this work, making it public domain. Anyone can do with it whatever they wish.

Martin Manley was definitely odd. He slept every other day. For years, he only drank Pepsi. For the last decade of his life, he wore a fedora at all times, except in church or if he was sleeping. And he was obsessive about basketball. Not the action, but the stats. For all his eccentricities, Martin also had a superpower.

But not the cape and tight sort of thing. His power dealt with numbers. Whenever he looked at them, they appeared across the color spectrum, from Celtic green to Laker gold. It's called synesthesia. It's a condition where senses are mistaken for each other. So imagine tasting words or seeing sounds. It can trip you up unless you harness it. And once Martin Manley did, he figured out a way to completely change the game of basketball. His vision would increase space and emphasize efficiency. He believed if you weren't maximizing the potential of every single moment, you were wasting it.

A key part of his vision? we should be shooting more threes. The predominance of three-pointers is the most controversial aspect of today's game, but they were barely taken in the 1980s. Back then, the game was vastly different than the one you see today. It was a bunch of tall guys fighting for position near the hoop, clogging the lane. The space behind the arc, almost an afterthought. And that's where the game might've stayed, if not for our hero.

He saw the numbers behind the game, dancing like the colors in a kaleidoscope. It was pure heaven, a basketball heaven. So he made it his mission to elevate the game into the clouds. What's crazy is Martin Manley actually did it. In a way at least. The trouble is, his story didn't quite turn out the way he imagined.

But, it ended exactly how he planned. And he even got his wish for someone to tell his story. That would be us. A couple of writers who lived through the history. Two basketball nerds who can still tell you which old NBA players share our birthdays. They used to put ourselves to sleep at night reading the same old NBA almanac year after year. Which is not how you're supposed to use an almanac. So it's safe to say we have our own eccentricities. We can sympathize with a man like Martin.

I mean in some frightening, even relate to him. We trailed this guy for more than a decade. He haunted our thoughts and altered the way we live. He also inspired us to tell his story. So let's get this thing going. Let's talk about where the game is today and how it's miles apart from its origins. And let's trace the history of its changes, from the Peach Basket to the Three Point Line, which isn't even a line, it's an imperfect arc, which is a hell of a metaphor for this story. From 30 for 30 podcast, I'm Rich Levine. I'm Nick Olchuler, and this is Chasing Basketball Heaven.

Episode one, The Imperfect Arc. Today the NBA is massive. Oh, what a shot from Curry! Today, the NBA is massive. It's an industry with $76 billion in media deals and growing markets around the world. But the league's beginnings were humble. The contest's just something to stage between hockey games. The NBA evolved slowly on its road to success. Nick and I have watched a lot of that process play out,

both as basketball fans and writers covering the NBA. For more than 40 years, whether sitting in the stands, on press row, at home on the couch, or just about anywhere on our phones, the biggest change we, and I think just about every fan has seen, is the explosion of three-pointers. Just to give you an idea, back in 1984, when Nick and I were just adorable little massholes, the Celtics played the Lakers in the NBA Finals. Over the

seven-game series, the teams took to shoot 359 three-pointers. In March, 2025, the Lakers and newly acquired Luka Doncic came to Boston for a battle with the defending champion Celtics. Rich and I were there. What did we say? We're going to guess how many three-pointers were shot tonight. But did you say 80? I said 80. Combined? Combined, yes. I felt a little silly after that guess. What did we say we're gonna guess how many three-pointers were shot tonight? But you did you say 80 I said 80 combined combine

I felt a little silly after that guess 80 seeming like a ludicrous number. I Was very close They shot 78 back in that 84 season the Celtics and Lakers combined to attempt 455 threes in 2025 both teams combined for nearly 7,000. Tatum's long three-pointer. That's good.

Way down town is Tatum. Yay! Basketball itself is over a hundred years old. And in the beginning, back in the 1890s, there was no three-point line. Actually, the game was more ultimate frisbee than what we know today. The player with the ball wasn't even allowed to move, so no crossovers and safe to say, no dunking either.

Today the big basketball buzzword is efficiency. Back then, it was anything but. As many know, the first hoop was a peach basket. But did you know it was over a decade before anyone thought to cut a hole in the bottom? After every single score, they had to stop the action, bring out a ladder. Not very exciting, unless you're a aspiring firefighter.

Also not very efficient. Love ladders. I can imagine Nick, you're the one guy in the stands who just starts clapping as they bring the ladder out. Yes. Woohoo! Back then, height was king,

and the game seemed trapped in a thicket of very tall people hanging out under the hoop. So, rule makers began a systematic effort to push them away. In 1935, the NCAA introduced a three-second rule. This stated that if a player dropped their gum on the court but still wanted to chew it, they just had to pick it up very quickly. That's more of an unwritten rule.

The one I'm referring to prohibited offensive players from standing in the lane, or by the hoop, for longer than three seconds at a time. Then in 1944, the college game identified goaltending as an issue and banned it. The rule made it illegal to touch the ball in its downward flight or while just above the rim. This was a reaction to the early giants of the sport, like Oklahoma State 7-footer Bob Curland, credited as the first man to dunk in a college game, and also 6'10 to Paul Center George Mikan, the first truly dominant big man, and I should

say the first to rock a mean pair of rec specs. With this new rule, Mikan could no longer jump up and swat away shots falling toward the hoop. In 1949, two rival professional leagues, the BAA and NBL, merged to form the National Basketball Association. And before long, the NBA had its own Mikan problem. It's Minneapolis ball. Schaefer passes to Mikan in the pivot, and the Big Center dribbles in and scores. In that 1949 season, the Big Man averaged 27 points a game.

And this is the time when only one other player even averaged 20. And Mikan's Minneapolis Lakers cruised to the first ever NBA title. That next season, teams decided the only way to beat Mikan was to prevent the Lakers from halving the ball in the first place. Good strategy, horrible aesthetics. In one particularly boring game, the Fort Wayne Pistons held the ball for minutes at a time, on their way to a 19-18 victory over Mikeon's Lakers. It's still the lowest scoring game in NBA history.

The league took action. First in 1951, they created the Myken rule, which widened the paint under the hoop from 6 to 12 feet. In conjunction with the 3 second rule, the hope was an expanded key would force big men farther away. In 1954, to combat the stalling tactics, the NBA introduced the 24 second shot clock. While the shot clock did improve the pace of the game, efforts to move players farther away from the basket didn't have as much impact as they hoped. The reward for scoring from 2 feet out or 10 feet out or 25 feet was all just two points. So you might as well be closer where the

shots are easier. Basically the NBA needed a spark, a shot of spontaneity, a need that grew steadily as the Celtics won 11 of 13 championships through the late 50s and 60s. Behind 6'10 Bill Russell, a dominant big man, and the greatest defensive player the league has ever seen. the NBA champions for the 11th time in 13 years. Defense doesn't really sell tickets. Even prolific scoring gets old. Want an example of NBA popularity in the 60s? When Wilt Chamberlain had his 100-point game in 1962, there were barely 4,000 fans in the stands. The game wasn't televised. There wasn't a single photographer working. The only reason we even have that legendary snapshot of Wilt with the number 100 written on scrap paper

is because an off-duty AP photographer named Paul Vathis happened to be at the game with his son. With the league growing stale, it was ripe for competition. In 1961, Abe Saperstein, founder of the Harlem Globetrotters, started the American Basketball League. Standing just 5'3", Saperstein is the shortest man in the basketball hall of fame, and his idea to compete with the NBA was to empower the smaller player. So he introduced the first professional three-point line. Before that season, he walked out onto the court with a roll of tape

and measured an arc just shy of 24 feet. Okay, I gotta ask, why just shy of 24 feet? I will tell you, it's because it just felt right. Honestly, his son Jerry is quoted as saying, they just arbitrarily drew lines, there's no scientific basis. The three and the league didn't catch on though and the ABL only lasted a season and a half. However, come 1967 the NBA finally had some serious competition. The American Basketball Association or the ABA founded on energy and creativity marketing itself as professional basketball with the volume turned up. They replaced the standard brown leather ball with the now iconic red, white and blue one. The league would feature high-flying stars like Dr. J, Julius Irving, and the Iceman,

George Gervin. They had a slam dunk contest. And also, a three-point line. The ADA feels that this extra incentive to shoot from far too out causes the defense Also, a three-point line was also a selling point. Threes were a particular favorite of lead commissioner, wouldn't you know it, the man with the rec specs, George Mikan. Here's one quote from Mikan in a history of the ABA called Loose Balls. We called it the home run, because the three-pointer was exactly that. It

brought fans out of their seats. The three-point line. That imperfect arc awarding 50% more points. Now players had a reason to move farther away from the basket and as an added bonus guys like Irving and Gerven had a suddenly wide open court. With players spread out the key was hard at a clock. Driving lanes opened up and the game flowed in a way it hadn't before. But when the two leagues finally merged in 1976 and that opportunity for change was there,

the three point line didn't make the cut. According to Angela Drossos, then owner of the San Antonio Spurs, the NBA moguls didn't want the three-point shot. Celtics president Red Auerbach hated it. He had everybody up in arms against the play. And guess what? NBA ratings got worse.

By the late 70s, national TV ratings were down 26%. The finals weren't even shown live, but on tape delay. And the league's games on CBS were routinely pummeled by boxing. Attendance was down in major markets like New York, Chicago, and even LA. And that brings us to what is arguably the most important season in the history of professional basketball. 1979. We make a lot about Magic Johnson and Larry Bird.

There are two reasons why 1979 is so vital. One you're familiar with, even if you're not a big basketball fan. Magic Johnson and Larry Bird entered the league. Fresh off their college national championship showdown, these young rival superstars generated a lot of excitement. Very excited about the big crowd and about being here at Boston for my first time. Gonna be a big game of a lot of enthusiasm throughout the crowd and I just hope the best team wins today. But what has gone unremembered, or more accurately undervalued,

is the second reason 1979 deserved some love. Three years after the merger, the NBA adopted one of the ABA's marketing ploys on a one-year trial basis, the three-pointer. It happened on October 12th, the first night of the 79 season at the old Boston Garden. The Celtics hosted the Houston Rockets. Of course, we remember it as Byrd's first game.

Everyone at the garden marveled at Larry Byrd's every move, but it was a play about eight minutes into the game where his debut was briefly overshadowed by teammate Chris Ford, a floppy haired, mustachioed fella. Who, by the way, looks a lot more like my geometry teacher than he ever did a professional shooting guard. Or is it more that a professional shooting guard used to look more like a geometry teacher than he ever did a professional shooting guard. Or is it more that a professional shooting guard used to look more like a geometry teacher? Over to Bird, Bird back over to Archerball, Archerball takes one,

holds it up top to four to step back, pop it, good at the three-point play! Good four, the three-point play! The first three-pointer in NBA history. But here's the funny thing. It was Boston's only three-point make of the game. The Celtics didn't hit another until a week later. For that whole season, Boston barely attempted 400 threes. In 2025, they took nearly 4,000. So, how did we get to where teams are routinely shooting thousands of three-pointers a year?

Let's start with a look at Brian Taylor, the first player to lead the NBA in threes. How did we get to where teams are routinely shooting thousands of three-pointers a year? Let's start with a look at Brian Taylor, the first player to lead the NBA in threes. Back in the ABA, he was Julius Irving's wingman on the Nets and saw firsthand how long-range threes opened up the court for the doctor. His perspective is something most execs, coaches, and players couldn't see. That first NBA season with the new line, Taylor hit a league leading 93s for the San Diego Clippers. Here's Taylor, boy, he just sets up automatically

outside that three point play. All by himself, Taylor eclipsed the season three point totals of 19 of 22 NBA teams. And when we caught up with him, first thing he noticed was my hat. So you're a Celtic fan, huh? I am. Yes. And wanted to know if I had the old Larry Bird sneakers to match.

You got the three quarters black Converse on? I know, man. I wish. I wonder what one of those would go for now. I know, right? It's unbelievable. I mean, I mean, you know, as well as anyone, but you think about the shoes guys playing now and back then with the Chuck Taylors or those Converse, like there wasn't so much that much support, wasn't there? Oh, there was no support. I wonder how we were able to jump so high. I didn't start jumping high until I got my first perioditis that when I was in high school. So we really were in the vanguard of wearing Nikes in the late 70s. And you had to get a new pair of Nikes almost every game because they spread so quickly.

A first round pick out of Princeton in the 1972 ABA draft, Taylor lived through the initial history of the three-point line. Though at first, like everybody else, he barely noticed. What he loved about the ABA was the colorful ball, not the three-point line. I didn't even think about the three for several years in the ABA. As a matter of fact, I look at my statistics and I didn't shoot a lot of threes. Over his first three years, from 1972 to 1975,

Taylor attempted less than half a three-pointer a game. So I had to come to grips with whether it was a good shot or not. And so I gave a lot of thought to the mathematics and the analytics of it. And it took me, took me three years to really feel comfortable shooting that shot. Actually the year that I led the ABA in three point shooting, still didn't shoot a lot of threes, I just shot a really high percentage, but I think I shot like 42%. He thought correctly.

He shot 42.1 to be exact. You know, I figured thinking about it in terms of whether 42% equivalent would be for a two-point shot. And it's up there. You know, 42% is closing in on 60%. What Taylor means is if he attempted 103 pointers and hit 42, which would be 42%, that would be worth 126 points. If you shot 102 pointers and hit 60 for 60%, that would only be worth 120 points. So shooting 42% from three is actually better

than shooting 60% from two. Taylor made the leap to the NBA when the leagues merged in 1976. So when the NBA added the three point line in 1979, he was already familiar with the math. But as he told us, the real reason he led the league in threes was his head coach. I was fortunate enough to have the late Gene Shue who anonymously thinking, and saw that I, Brian could shoot from that distance and we'll get one extra point. So he gave me the green light in 1979 to shoot that shot.

Three, Taylor, and Taylor pulls up. Three pointer is good by Taylor. Brian Taylor. Look how far out this shot was. If they had a four pointer, that would definitely be it. Like Gabe Saperstein, Shue had a vision for improving short players' lives. But Brian's next coach was Paul Silas,

a former NBA champion and all-star, whose entire game was about muscle under the basket. Paul Silas came in and he's being the big man. He hated the shot. You look at my numbers, I shot probably 50% less. I was gonna ask you about that. Because the coach didn't believe in it. That's what it was, okay.

Yeah, Paul Silas didn't believe in the three point shot. You know, he used to have me nervous all the time. I always had to look over on the sidelines and him yelling at me for coming down off the break and shooting the three point off the break. Did you ever envision that the game was going to evolve in the way that it did? I have no idea, no clue, because I even questioned whether they would keep it because there were so many detractors of that shot coming into the NBA in the 79.

So I didn't even know whether it was going to last or not. It was like a great experiment. Tater, three pointer. Phenomenal shooting. I'll tell you, that's tough out there. It's a long ways out there. 22 feet from the sidelines. I guess the experiment succeeded because the NBA three point line did stick around. But for a long while, it was still mostly ignored.

In that first season, 79-80, teams averaged 2.8 attempts a game. By 1986, attempts did go up, but just barely. 3.3 threes a game. It was still little more than an oddity. And in a way, we can understand that, right? Like head coaches like Paul Silas were old school guys who had mastered a game that didn't include the three.

None of the books on basketball included three-point strategy. Coaches like Paul Silas were old school guys who had mastered a game that didn't include the three. None of the books on basketball included three-point strategy. None of the players had grown up shooting threes. This kind of thing takes time. And in general, the NBA was still mostly just ignoring advanced stats, which is basically anything beyond the raw numbers you see in a box score. Points, rebounds, assists. But an advanced stat uses those raw numbers to provide some next-level insight.

For instance, imagine a catch-all shooting percentage. One that includes twos and threes, and corrects for the difference in value. Today we have that stat. It's called effective field goal percentage. But back then, it was hard enough to convince teams that three is more than two. This was an era when drafting Sam Bowie. Seven foot one. Thank you. Over Michael Jordan.

Oh, were you aware Michael Jordan six foot six? I am now, thank you. Was defensible because the Portland Trail Blazers already had Clyde Drexler. If you were wondering, six foot seven. A two-way star with multiple all-NBA seasons ahead of him. Although honestly, Nick, I do get it. Like, who needs a second all-star swing man? I don't know, but seven footers

with troubling medical records? You can never get enough of those, right? But you could blame the NBA for ignoring complicated math when the bottom line was on a meteoric rise. By the mid-1980s, the league was more popular than ever. Finally, it had bona fide star power. Bird magic had electrified the nation. Ratings boomed.

Fans came back. Who has the energy to worry about math when your product is soaring? Collecting new fans with every new highlight dunk or memorable commercial. New fans like me. And me. Two kids from Massachusetts, a little too young to understand the greatness of the Celtics,

and still decades away from understanding the power of statistical analysis. But falling in love with professional basketball. My first NBA memory is from game two of the first round of that 1986 postseason I was there with my dad at the old Boston Garden 23 year old Jordan scored a still NBA playoff record 63 points That afternoon the Bulls and Celtics scored a combined 266 points I cut some of this game recently on YouTube and I couldn't believe my eyes. Every single possession, all 10 players squeezed

inside the three point line. It was like the floor outside the arc was hot lava. Aims guarding Michael Jordan. Jordan goes up with a shot and hits it and has 61 points to tie Elgin Baylor. I was born the year the NBA 3 was introduced, 1979. Oh Jesus, you're old. The 70s?

I'm a year older than you. You're an entire decade older than me. But we both grew up playing at a time when taking a three was more likely to see you benched than cheered. At 6'4", I stood taller than average, and the idea of me playing anywhere outside the paint was absurd to any coach I ever had.

You can't teach height, they used to say, and they certainly weren't going to teach us to shoot from distance. It was still the big man era, but there was a glimmer of change. The NBA embraced the three in a way, treating the novelty like a side act at the All-Star game. The long distance shootout, AKA the three point contest. Our man Larry Bird won it in 1986. It should be noted he also won in 1987.

Let the record show also 1988. Something was starting to change. In 1989, the NBA was ready to blast into the future at All-Star weekend in Houston, an event of critical importance to long-distance shots. And to us. And to our story. For it's here, in Houston, where our winding journey finally meets up with the man who

had calculated one simple path forward. Right after this break. We are now inside a sold out Astrodome, and before game time we have a very special All-Star introduction. The 1989 All-Star game was held inside the Cavernous Houston Astrodome. It's a baseball field, so they refitted it for hoops. They laid down a cord on top of the infield, lined it all with a red carpet. Oh!

Barkley follows up. They even set up extra sets of stands. If you were in the upper deck at the top row, the seven-footers would look like ants. Elijah! You probably were not happy with the ticket price. Yes, $13. And yet, they sold the thing out. At that point, this all-star

game was the most attended game in NBA history. So they pulled out all the stops, including a special theme song for the weekend, aptly titled NBA All-Star Rap from the legendary ultra magnetic MCs. Kevin Duckworth dominating the earth as the middle man, dominating every little man, back and forth down the low post for the slam, Povarizing the hoop because he's an all-star. It's truly a time capsule into an age of awkward progress for the NBA. Look out! Oh! Karl Malone who is the top scorer.

After a booming decade, it was a time of transition. 1989 was the first All-Star game of the 80s without Bird and Magic. Bird missed just about the entire season with bone spurs in his feet. Magic was the leading vote getter for the West but skipped the game with an injury, so that 41-year-old Lakers teammate Karim Abdul-Jababbar on a farewell tour in his 20th NBA season could play in one last All-Star game. Here's the hook. Yes!

That's great. Standing o'er Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in his 18th All-Star game. He hit the sky hook. Yes it was a time of transition. The end of an era. The most lucrative decade in NBA history. But a transition into what? Well into guys like Dale Ellis. The time of transition, the end of an era, the most lucrative decade in NBA history. But a transition into what?

Well, into guys like Dale Ellis. Nick, you have any curiosity into how tall Dale Ellis was? I feel like you're going to tell me. Well, Dale Ellis, for those keeping score, was 6'7". Thank you so much, Richard. Can you hear me? Yeah, we got you, Dale. How are you?

Rich, how are you? Good, and here with Nick is here too. He's my partner in all this. How you doing, Nick? Good? How are you? Good and here with Nick is here too. It's my partner and all this How you doing Nick? Good. How are you? Fantastic. Thanks for taking the time. No, my pleasure These days Dale Ellis is remembered as a prolific three-point shooter. He was the first player to reach 1,000 threes in a career. So I was always best friends with the guards the guys that pass you the ball But he actually never attempted an end game three until he made it to the NBA.

Because like every other player at that time, Ellis didn't grow up with a three point line. That may seem impossible to believe as right this minute there are kids imagining their stuffed curry in driveways all across America. But when Ellis was a kid. I love Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. But when Ellis was a kid... I loved Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

I was throwing hook shots. It didn't matter what distance I was from the basket, I was throwing a hook shot. I pretended to be him on the playgrounds. Playgrounds didn't have three-point lines, neither did high schools, and Dale Ellis never played with the line while in college at the University of Tennessee. So when Ellis got to the league, taking ninth by Dallas in the 83 draft, he learned he could hit threes almost by accident thanks to a friendship with fellow Mavs rookie Derek Harper. Harper is known as one of the best backcourt defenders of his generation.

And after practice we'd play one on one. He had great hands. So he was one of those guys that could make you go left or right. Harper also took full advantage of an entirely different element of the game that the league had yet to outlaw. The hand checking rules weren't in place at that time. So it was hard to get past him, to get a clear lane to the basket. So at every opportunity I would take what he would give me. And coaches saw me shoot threes. They had no idea that I could face the basket and pull up

from that distance and shoot a three. In the summer of 86, Ellis moved to Seattle. He rose to stardom as the leader of an upstart supersonics team, who rocked the bright green and gold jerseys. I think they're more of like a yellow, aren't they? The official website says gold. I think it's more of like a yellow gold. Yellow gold is gold rich. Fittingly, Ellis also changed his jersey number from 14 to number three.

I end up in the starting lineup and through the ball way a couple of times, he told the timeout and said, you're here to shoot it. If you refuse to shoot it, you can sit next to me. And I decided I'm going to shoot the basketball. And my teammates knew that when the ball got in my hands, they can go start jockeying for position for a rebound. It might not be a rebound. It's going in.

He's shooting it. That first year in Seattle, Ellis led the entire NBA in three-point attempts with 240. Money ball. Money ball. Dale Ellis again. This guy is on fire! He simultaneously ran away with the Most Improved Player Award. His increase from 7.1 to 24.9 points per game is still the largest single-season leap in NBA history.

And it landed him at the 1989 All-Star Game as the best long-range shooter in the game. And he proved it that weekend by beating marksman Craig Hodges in the final of the three-point shootout. Like Brian Taylor before him, Dale Ellis had stumbled on the secret. After shooting from that distance, I didn't quite get why more players weren't shooting from there. But what Ellis didn't know was that in Houston that weekend was the man who saw his full potential. The future, really. The man who saw numbers as colors and analytics as high religion. The one who on this very weekend found himself in a position to change the game forever. He'd been watching Dale Ellis, studying him and his three-point attempts.

Even if the attention wasn't exactly mutual. Should we ask about Martin? Yeah, have you ever heard the name Martin Manley? No. Read the book, Basketball Heaven? No, I'm not familiar with him. Martin was actually there in 89. Oh.

He was doing some reporting for TBS, but his whole thing was efficiency, and he was the first guy to say, like, why aren't people shooting more three-pointers? This is silly. So when you won the contest, was he was watching you oh wow Ellis with a wide-open jumper he won the three-point even if you were looking for Martin Manley during that 1989 all-star weekend you probably would have walked right past him he was unassuming just a 30-something white guy from Kansas. Short, dark hair. Sturdy 80s mustache. He wasn't an imposing physical presence.

He was soft-spoken, never an athlete. He looked like someone who crunched statistics, not someone with strong opinions on NBA basketball. And truth be told, until a few years earlier, he wasn't. But inspiration and opportunity struck. And once Martin had an idea, he would squeeze it for every last drop. Martin Manley was a numbers guy. He was tired of conventional thinking in all aspects of life. He watched basketball games across the country, obsessively,

nightly. He did the math and he saw it clearly. You are doing it wrong. So he built this case in a book titled Basketball Heaven, in which Martin presented, among other things, the idea that shooting a decent percentage from three could earn you more points than a higher percentage from two. The math was too obvious to ignore. Although to this point, the NBA had done a pretty good job. Until now. Live on national TV. And still ahead, we've got more point the NBA had done a pretty good job. Until now. Live on national TV.

And still ahead we've got more Inside the NBA. Inside the NBA. His golden opportunity to present his ideas to the world alongside the sport's biggest names during the All-Star weekend in Houston and catapult the NBA into a new era. This was his moment in the spotlight, in the center of the Astrodome. And Martin couldn't have asked for a better introduction from broadcaster Fred Hickman, host of Inside the NBA.

Joining me now is a legend in his own time, and he's got a book to prove it. This is the book, Basketball Heaven. It is penned by Martin Manley. Martin Manley is a statistician extraordinaire. He has done for basketball what Bill James has done for baseball. Let's wait a second.

Now, you. That thing Hickman just said is really important. It would have mattered a great deal to Martin or anyone else in his shoes. So let's play it again. Martin Manley, Martin Manley is a statistician extraordinaire. He has done for basketball what Bill James has done for baseball. Bill James. Big deal.

If you're a sports fan familiar with Bill James, you understand why this is a compliment of the highest order. It's like Manley is making his national TV debut and being knighted at the same time. If you're unfamiliar with Bill James, allow my friend Nick, child of the 1970s, to offer this cheat sheet on one of the smartest people in sports.

Literally one year before you. In the mid-70s, Bill James was a night watchman at a baked beans factory in Kansas, tired of the conventional thinking in baseball. In 1977, James self-published his first book, Baseball Abstract, which dug into the numbers in a way no one had before. Today, that former night watchman is considered a sports Galileo. The first person to not only challenge conventional thinking, but to argue successfully against ideas that had long been considered facts.

The first to take the numbers available to everyone and prove that some statistics were overlooked and others vital to winning hadn't yet even been invented. So he invented them. His new interpretations forever changed strategy. Coaches called in relief pitchers earlier in the game. They figured out maybe intentional walks aren't worth the risk. Today Bill James' place in history is secured. He's met with multiple US presidents. He was named one of Time's most influential people, when

that mattered. He appeared on The Simpsons as himself, more important. Brad Pitt even made a movie, Moneyball, based on Bill James's work. Love Moneyball. So yeah, Bill James is a big deal. But in 1989, James was still a relative unknown, but not to Martin Manley. In fact, a lot of Martin's thinking about efficiency in basketball was inspired by how Bill James thought about baseball. He was a huge inspiration for a fellow Kansan.

And it was right there in quotes, on the cover of Martin's book that announcer Fred Hickman was holding up in front of a national TV audience, the Bill James of basketball. Basketball heaven was smart, comprehensive, and most of all, original. Through Manley's eyes, readers got a peek

at what the NBA could be. If only they'd follow his advice. Like this bit from the book. The three-point shot has increased in popularity every year since the league first adopted it, but it's not as popular as it should be. The three-pointer is a big advantage and should be used more effectively by NBA teams. Joining me now is a legend in his own time and he's got a book to prove it. This was a massive opportunity for basketball analytics,

but also a huge moment in the life of the man hoping to lead the revolution. This is the book, Basketball Heaven. It is penned by Martin Manley. The young man from small town Kansas hoped to change black and white post-ups to glorious technicolor rainbows from way downtown and perhaps more importantly to Martin he could prove he was the smartest person in the room. He has done for basketball what

Bill James has done for baseball. And in this moment as Fred Hickman introduced him Martin sat perched between success and failure, stardom and anonymity. And Martin Manley, ever full of dualities, looks ready for both. There's a twinkle in his eyes and a little wiggle to his mustache that can't quite hide the smirk of a man

ready to lay down the laws of basketball efficiency as if he had written them on stone tablets. At the same time, he's a man in a brown blazer and tie with gray slacks, sitting on a brown wooden chair with gray upholstery, as if he had called ahead to make sure he dressed for maximum camouflage. Martin's leaning hard on his elbow, like he wants to whisper a secret into Hickman's ear, but also like he might pass out. And Martin, let's talk about it right now. You've watched these teams all season long. Surprises in the Eastern Conference.

It's a coin flip. 50-50. Legacy on the line. Martin gathers himself, ready to speak. On the next episode of Chasing Basketball Heaven, I not only don't want to be the same as everyone else, I don't want to be the same as anyone else. I'm not going to do what everyone else does just because they do it.

Our friend Martin gets closer to the truth. Never again would I be in the dark about which player really deserved the headlines. But can you be a leader if no one follows you? My dream of course was and is that not only I could be enlightened, but so could basketball fans everywhere. Chasing Basketball Heaven is a 30 for 30 podcast produced by ESPN, Hyper Object Industries, and Metal Arc Media. It was reported and hosted by Nick Altshuler and Rich Levine, with Craig Kilborn as the voice of Martin Manley. Executive producers from Hyper Object Industries and Metal Arc Media are Adam McKay, Claire Slaughter, and Bradley Campbell.

Senior Editorial Producer for 30 for 30 Podcasts is Preeti Varatham. The Series Senior Producer is Raghu Manavalli. The series producer is Gus Navarro. Consulting producer, Gary Honig. Story editors were Jamie York and Mac Montandon. Sound design and mixing by John Delor. Theme song composed by Allison Leighton Brown and John Delor.

Show art by Brian Lutz. Fact checking by Matt Giles and David Sabino. For 30 for 30 and ESPN, line producer is Catherine Sankey. Associate producer is Isabella Seaman. Production assistants are Diamante McKelvey and Anthony Salas. Producer is Carolyn Hepburn. Senior producers are Marquise Daisy and Gentry Kirby. Heather Anderson, Marcia Cook, Brian Lockhart, and Burke Magnus are executive producers for 30 for 30. Rights and Clearances by Jennifer Thorpe and Cal Griffith. This podcast was developed by Taran Adaldi

and Cynthia Parabello. To listen to more sports series like this one, search 30 for 30 podcasts wherever you listen to podcasts or find us at 30for30podcast.com. Thanks for listening.