Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s Iconic Sky Hook Soars Over Wes Unseld in Baltimore Civic Center Showdown That Echoed Through NBA History

It was a moment steeped in grace, power, and rivalry—Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, then still known to many as Lew Alcindor, rising in one fluid motion to deliver his signature sky hook over the outstretched arms of Baltimore Bullets legend Wes Unseld. The venue: the Baltimore Civic Center. The stakes: pride, legacy, and positioning in the Eastern Conference. The result: a masterclass in basketball artistry that would forever encapsulate the magic of Abdul-Jabbar’s early dominance in the NBA.

On a crisp evening in early 1970, the Civic Center buzzed with anticipation. The clash between the Milwaukee Bucks and Baltimore Bullets wasn’t just another regular-season game—it was a preview of what the league had become and where it was headed. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the towering, elegant force at center, stood at the heart of that transformation. At just 22 years old, he was already redefining the center position, blending finesse and footwork with size and cerebral play.

Across from him was Wes Unseld, the Bullets’ rock in the paint. Shorter than Kareem by several inches but no less formidable, Unseld played with a brute strength and tenacity that made him one of the most respected big men of the era. Known for his powerful screens, outlet passes, and sheer determination, Unseld would not be intimidated. But this night belonged to Kareem.

From the opening tip, the game was physical and fast-paced. Baltimore fans filled the seats, eager to witness the latest installment of this growing rivalry. Kareem wasted little time imposing his will. With his patented sky hook—a move almost impossible to block due to his height, length, and high release—he scored the Bucks’ first basket, gliding across the lane and lofting the ball high above Unseld’s fingertips.

The sky hook was more than a shot. It was a statement. Abdul-Jabbar had honed the move during his years under John Wooden at UCLA, and now, in the pros, it was quickly becoming the most unguardable shot in basketball. When he launched it, defenders could do little but hope. Wes Unseld, strong and smart, tried everything—bodying up, denying position, even timing his jumps perfectly. None of it mattered. Kareem was in his element.

Throughout the night, Milwaukee fed the ball into the post. With each possession, Kareem danced with Unseld on the block—jab steps, pivots, and drop steps giving way to another effortless sky hook. It didn’t always fall, but when it did, it seemed to hang in the air like poetry before splashing softly through the net.

The matchup was a tug-of-war. Baltimore had their own weapons—Jack Marin shooting from the wing, Earl Monroe slashing through defenders with electric drives, and Unseld doing the dirty work. But the Bucks, anchored by Kareem, were relentless. Oscar Robertson had not yet joined the team—that would come a year later—but Milwaukee still had capable guards like Flynn Robinson and Jon McGlocklin who fed Kareem and stretched the floor.

As the game wore on, Abdul-Jabbar’s presence grew heavier on the Bullets’ defense. Even when he wasn’t scoring, his gravity shifted Baltimore’s entire defensive scheme. Double teams came more frequently, which Kareem coolly countered with kick-outs and skip passes. His awareness was remarkable for a second-year player, and his composure in the face of rough play showed a maturity that belied his age.

Midway through the third quarter, with Milwaukee clinging to a slim lead, the Civic Center erupted during a rare sequence: Unseld blocked one of Kareem’s hook attempts—one of the few he would get all night. The block sparked a fast break the other way, ending in a thunderous dunk by Monroe. But the crowd barely had time to savor the moment before Kareem got his redemption.

Just two possessions later, Kareem took a feed at the high post. He dribbled once with his left, pivoted, and with Unseld draped on his right shoulder, released a sky hook so pure and high-arcing it seemed to kiss the rafters before dropping cleanly through the net. That bucket silenced the crowd and reinjected life into the Bucks’ bench. It was more than two points—it was a reminder of who held the upper hand.

In the fourth, the Bullets made one last push, trying to close the gap behind Monroe’s fearless drives and Unseld’s offensive rebounds. But Kareem remained a pillar of calm. He finished the night with 36 points, 18 rebounds, and 5 assists, while Unseld recorded a hard-fought double-double of his own, battling until the final buzzer.

The Bucks won 111-105, and while the victory was sweet, it was the duel that defined the night. Basketball purists would point to it for years as an example of two contrasting styles at the center position—Unseld’s brute force versus Kareem’s ballet-like fluidity. Both men played the game with passion and intelligence, but on this night, it was the sky hook that reigned supreme.

Looking back, that game in Baltimore represented a significant chapter in Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s evolution. Though he would later change his name following his conversion to Islam in 1971, and would go on to have his most celebrated years with the Los Angeles Lakers, his time in Milwaukee laid the foundation for what many consider the greatest career in NBA history.

He won Rookie of the Year in 1970, then MVP in 1971—one of six such honors in his storied career—and led the Bucks to their first NBA title that same year. But nights like the one at the Baltimore Civic Center were just as important. They were the proving grounds. They were where the myth of Kareem was being forged, one sky hook at a time.

Wes Unseld, for his part, would go on to win MVP himself in 1969 as a rookie—a rare and astonishing feat—and later led the Bullets to a championship in 1978. He was the perfect foil for Kareem: shorter, stockier, and grounded in the fundamentals of grit. Their battles were chess matches, physical and mental, and always must-watch basketball.

The enduring image from that Baltimore game remains Kareem, standing at the top of the key, eyes surveying the court, before taking one dribble, stepping into the lane, and launching a sky hook that bent the laws of physics. Wes Unseld jumped—he had to—but it didn’t matter. The ball floated over him, kissed the sky, and fell through the hoop.

Basketball, at its best, is artistry in motion. That night at the Civic Center, it was a masterpiece painted in real time—by a 7-foot-2 virtuoso in goggles, rewriting the possibilities of the game. And while the final score mattered to standings and stats, what lingered was the majesty of the sky hook, and the man who made it immortal.