Before filming his documentary series “Soul Power: The Legend of the American Basketball Association,” director Kenan Kamwana Holley asked various basketball players what they knew about the long-gone ABA. Their response was almost unanimous: “Dr. J.”
From young NBA stars like Tyrese Haliburton and RJ Barrett to streetball legends at Rucker Park, everyone attributed their knowledge of the ABA to Julius Erving. The legendary Dr. J, a three-time league MVP, was a transcendent superstar whose gravity-defying play not only changed the game but was also crucial in keeping the ABA alive.
Fifty years ago, the ABA famously introduced the slam-dunk contest, a spectacle that was cemented in history by Erving’s iconic flight from the foul line during the league’s final season.
While Dr. J’s highlights are undeniable, this four-part series, premiering on Amazon Prime Video and executive-produced by Erving himself, explores much more than his personal journey. It uncovers the ABA’s vibrant history of fun, innovation, and rebellious spirit. This was, after all, the league that invented the 3-point shot and played with a distinctive red, white, and blue basketball.
Darnell Hillman, famously known as Dr. Dunk, was a two-time champion with the Indiana Pacers, one of several ABA franchises that eventually merged into the NBA.
The ABA, established in 1967, harbored a clear ambition: to eventually force a merger with the already dominant NBA, much like the American Football League had done with the NFL a year prior.
Holley noted that earlier books and documentaries often emphasized the quirky, underfunded nature of the ABA, relegating it to a mere footnote in basketball history. However, through his research, he discovered a fast-paced style of play that remarkably foreshadowed the modern game, contrasting sharply with the NBA of the late 1960s and early 1970s. The league also boasted immense talent, featuring future Hall of Famers such as Rick Barry, George Gervin, Artis Gilmore, Spencer Haywood, and Dan Issel. Holley was surprised to find that ABA teams frequently defeated NBA teams in exhibition games.
“That was pretty incredible,” Holley recalled. “I’d never heard that before.”
“Soul Power” deliberately moves past the wild tales, such as those involving Marvin Barnes, to focus on the league’s revolutionary playing style and its notable racial harmony. At a time when the NBA still operated with an unwritten racial quota, the ABA was far more integrated. The series also highlights the intense business struggle to achieve a merger with the NBA and the players’ groundbreaking fight for respect and fair compensation, which was ahead of its time.
Holley explained that the interviewed players felt previous accounts had portrayed them as “clowns,” overlooking their significant contributions to basketball history.
Erving’s impact, of course, stands as a clear exception. A Long Island native, Erving went on to an illustrious NBA career with Philadelphia, securing an MVP award and a championship. Yet, in a recent video interview about the docuseries, he expressed a deep fondness for his glory days in the pioneering league.
“I’m all ABA,” Erving stated. “Anything associated with the league, I’m there for it.” The following are edited excerpts from that conversation:
Julius Erving remarked that the “spirit of the ABA game” continues to thrive in the NBA today.
What do you hope “Soul Power” reveals about the ABA?
We truly believed we were just as good as the NBA teams, and it’s important to share that with the public. The merger negotiations between the ABA and NBA represent a crucial, yet often forgotten, chapter in basketball history.
Moreover, the ABA’s legacy undeniably lives on in today’s NBA, through elements like the 3-point shot, the use of three referees, and even how stats are recorded. But more profoundly, it’s the spirited, fast-paced style of the ABA game, with its emphasis on spreading the court and running the ball, that truly endures.
Growing up, did you aspire to play in the NBA?
I hadn’t even considered a professional career until the summer after my sophomore year at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. After a significant growth spurt, gaining some weight, and putting up strong numbers, I was invited as an alternate to the Olympic development camp for the 1972 team.
Returning to Roosevelt on Long Island, I was working at the park when two players on the Olympic team were injured. I got the call to Colorado, received a jacket, but still didn’t expect to make the team—40 players for 12 spots, and the jacket didn’t even fit. However, during a 10-3 tour, I led the team in scoring and rebounding, even with two seven-footers. I made the team, and the coach told me I had a good shot at going pro. While I had no specific “wish lists,” I naturally assumed I would end up in the NBA.
How did your path lead you to the ABA instead?
After my junior year, an agent arranged a meeting with the general manager and coach of the Virginia Squires. I knew nothing about them. They offered me $500,000 for four years of play, a contract that rivaled those of NBA legends like Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain, though it would be paid out over seven years.
Given that my mom was a hairdresser and my stepfather worked for the sanitation department, with their combined income around $15,000, the offer was a complete no-brainer. What else was a young man to do?
A younger Julius Erving, with an impressive Afro and an intense gaze, shared his belief that ABA teams were on par with NBA teams. He emphasized that showcasing this belief to the public through the docuseries is “big.”
The documentary portrays you as a “Black superhero” for 1970s youth, drawing parallels with “Shaft.” Did you feel a responsibility to maintain a particular public image?
Well, Shaft was definitely cooler than me. But regarding being a role model and my personal image, it truly began with my commitment to public service and charity. I was actively involved with groups like the Boys and Girls Clubs and the Salvation Army. It was about volunteering and being at the forefront of efforts that were genuinely unselfish.
Who were your role models?
My heroes included figures like Martin Luther King and Bill Russell. I first met Bill when I was 19, and he extended his friendship. There were aspects of his personality I didn’t necessarily admire or emulate—he could be rude to people, and had certain mannerisms—but I understood these stemmed from his upbringing and how he was treated. So, I accepted that, and he taught me many valuable life lessons.
Ultimately, it started with my mom; I never wanted to disappoint her. Her life was challenging enough, and I didn’t want to be the child who added to her difficulties. The business aspect of the game and becoming a sports icon or brand evolved from that foundation, but it was never my primary intention. My main goal was simply to be a good citizen.
Did you practice your iconic free throw line dunk before the 1976 All-Star Game?
Absolutely. I performed it countless times at basketball camps. It was my go-to move to conclude a session, and I would often immediately head to the locker room afterward.