The many legacies of Žarko Paspalj, part one
Before Tony, Manu, Tiago or Fabricio, there was Žarko.
Mention the name Žarko Paspalj to Spurs Fans Of A Certain Age and it may ring the faintest of bells. They may have his basketball card stashed away in an attic or recall one of two colorful narratives that local reporters ran with at the time: 1) that Paspalj ate a lot of Pizza Hut, and 2) that he loved smoking cigarettes even more. Maybe it was just the foreign name that stood out, especially in the NBA of 1989, a collection of consonants that still resonates as a piece of Spurs miscellanea in the folds of memory.
Mention Paspalj to his head coach at the time, Larry Brown, and you get a few additional notes, about the one-on-one workouts at practice between him and Sean Elliott, then a rookie, and how those benefited Elliott’s development; that he was a great teammate and a good player, but also, per Brown, “he just smoked his ass off.”
Do so in Greece, however—where he’s viewed as the league’s “first foreign superstar”—or Serbia—where he won big as part of the Yugoslavian and, later, Serbia-Montenegro national teams—and you’ll get an understanding for his actual impact on the game of basketball. The wider resume includes a starring role on rival Greek clubs (he made the controversial move as a star from one to another before it was cool) and a silver medal in the 88 Olympics, gold in the 1990 FIBA World Championship, and three Eurobasket titles. In some of the most basketball-mad parts of the world, Paspalj was and remains an icon, once serenaded by thousands of his compatriots after the winning the gold in 1995 Eurobasket. Like another former Spur he had a penchant for shooting off the glass, a tendency that became so well-known, so synonymous with him, that fans from his generation may still today refer to a bank shot as a Paspalj.
I lost myself down a Žarko Paspalj rabbit hole in the earlier days of quarantine ennui after finding his card in a shoebox and sharing it. I ended up at his Wikipedia page, notably comprehensive given few English writers have ever bothered to write about Paspalj and learned that much of the content had been translated from Serbian-language sources, such as this 2015 Vice interview he did with journalist Miloš Jovanović. It wasn’t just the level of detail in the page (which includes humorous anecdotes on his brief Spurs tenure), but the manner in which the page had been updated, stories, achievements and shortcomings described with care, and seemingly a mind for the player’s broader legacy.
Jovanović’s conversation in particular focuses on Paspalj’s time in San Antonio, a story that begins with an encounter in Dortmund, Germany between the up-and-coming 23-year-old playing for Partizan in Belgrade and a Spurs assistant coach drawn to the event by a keen, and prescient, appreciation for how basketball was being played overseas.
“I thought it was great,” Larry Brown said about when Gregg Popovich approached him with the idea to scout European talent. “I thought Pop was right. Think about what he’s done, the players that have come overseas (since then) and made a contribution.”
Paspalj had already established himself on the club and international level by then, playing with Vlade Divac for Partizan and on a packed Yugoslavia team alongside Divac, Dražen Petrović, Toni Kukoc and Dino Radja that won silver in the 1988 Olympics. Showing out in a 1988 exhibition between Yugoslavia against the Celtics put him further on the radar of American teams. Yet, as he told Jovanović, the idea of playing in the NBA rarely entered his mind.
Yugoslavia won the aforementioned tournament in Dortmund, and Paspalj played well enough that he was approached by Popovich shortly after. With another player serving as translator, Paspalj understood the coach to be complimentary of his game. “You’re coming over, you’re coming over,” he remembers him saying. Polite but dubious of it all, Paspalj mostly nodded along, without expecting much to come of it.
As talks with the team evolved in the coming weeks, the move began to feel real. One day, while playing pickup ball in Budva, Montenegro with a few other European stars, Paspalj brought up that he would be playing in the NBA, in San Antonio, the next season.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” a colleague responded, citing the NBA’s different style of play and the fact the Spurs had just selected Sean Elliott 3rd in the draft, and that the Arizona star also played the same small power forward position as Paspalj. In so many words, Paspalj scoffed at the assumption he’ll take a backseat to Elliott. “Whoever is better will play.”
As Paspalj told Jovanović, he arrived in San Antonio later in the summer of 1989, facing his first challenge straight out of the gate when he learned the Spurs couldn’t source a Serbian interpreter. Instead he was taken to Popovich’s home. While neither could verbally communicate with the other, Paspalj mentions being appreciative of the time shared with Popovich, his wife, and two young children. They played a lot of pool.
He stayed at Popovich’s house for a month total, taking part in Summer League in Los Angeles in between. This also being David Robinson’s rookie season, the Admiral was also a participant in Summer League and, per Paspalj, was asked by Popovich to see to it that the players included him in team meals. Paspalj remembers one stark difference between San Antonio in LA: the existence of other Serbians, one of whom happened to serve Paspalj and Divac when they grabbed a bite to eat.
Paspalj formed part of what was then dubbed “The Green Card Five.” The group consisted of himself, Divac, Dražen Petrović, Šarūnas Marčiulionis and Alexander Volkov, contemporaries who, unlike Paspalj, all came in after being drafted. A Jack McCallum write-up in a season preview issue of Sports Illustrated includes pronunciation notes for their names, an update on how each player's English comprehension is shaping up, and other commentary. Here’s Paspalj’s section:
Spur forward Zarko Paspalj (ZSAR-ko POSS-pie). Yugoslavia, 23, 6'9", 215 pounds. Paspalj became a favorite of the American press during the 1988 McDonald's Open in Madrid. The discolored white sneakers he wore against the Celtics looked as if they had been worn during a few lawn-mowings. But he cut down the Celtics in the early stages of the game before Bird & Co. finally cooled him off. Despite defensive weaknesses—"In the NBA, I have big problems," he said after teammate Terry Cummings buried him in a preseason scrimmage—Paspalj may get minutes as a backup when he adjusts his defense to the quicker NBA players.
He took a Berlitz course over the summer and understands most of what is said to him in English. He has emerged as the early leader for "most quotable foreigner." Here's an example of Paspalj's stream-of-consciousness reflections on America, excerpted from a story in the San Antonio Light:
"I love Pizza Hut. Oh, the Supreme Pizza. [That's the one with everything on it.] It's great. I eat it five times this week. I want to open Pizza Hut in Yugoslavia. I want to see Eddie Murphy and Whitney Houston and Jack Nicholson. I want to buy a Mitsubishi. I love Marlboro cigarettes."
You don’t need to wait for the second half of the Paspalj story newsletter (apologies to those hoping for a three- or six-part Paspalj omnibus) to know that his tenure didn’t live up to what he, Popovich, or anyone in the organization hoped. It would also be years before that overseas itch would pay off with the likes of Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili.
And yet the fact remains that it was Paspalj’s shaky steps that they and others followed on their way to success, making his legacy in San Antonio something more than the throw-away stories about Pizza Hut and Marlboros. He endures not only as Popovich’s first stab at international scouting from what he already knew at that time was an untapped talent pool, but as one of many long-lasting relationships the future Spurs head coach counted on in the decades since.