Denver Nuggets Legend Doug Moe Dies At 87

To understand Moe, you have to look past the disheveled appearance and the aw-shucks attitude. Beneath that “big stiff” exterior was a basketball mind that was decades ahead of its time.

Long before the “Seven Seconds or Less” Phoenix Suns or the modern Golden State Warriors turned the NBA into a three-point track meet, Moe was orchestrating a symphony of speed in the “Mile High City.” He hated standing around. He despised dribbling the air out of the ball. His philosophy was simple: if you’re open, shoot it. If you’re not, pass it.

He implemented the famous “two-second rule,” demanding that no player hold the ball longer than a couple of heartbeats. It wasn’t about rigid X’s and O’s; it was about flow, instinct, and trusting your guys to make a play. And man, did it work.

In the 1987-88 season, Moe led the Nuggets to a 54-28 record. His squad averaged a blistering 116.7 points per game. They didn’t just beat you; they ran you out of the gym. That performance earned him the NBA Coach of the Year award, a crowning achievement for a guy who often joked that he didn’t actually do any coaching.

From Blackballed To Bench Boss

Moe’s journey to the sideline wasn’t a straight line—it was a winding road paved with heartbreak and vindication. A standout at the University of North Carolina, he was a two-time All-American destined for NBA stardom. But his career hit a brick wall before it began due to a connection with a college point-shaving scandal.

Moe was never charged. He was exonerated. But in the conservative landscape of 1960s sports, the mere association was enough to get him blackballed. The NBA shut its doors.

Instead of quitting, Moe went to Italy. He sold insurance. He worked his way back through the ABA, becoming a three-time All-Star with a gritty, hard-nosed style that contrasted sharply with the finesse offenses he would later coach. He averaged over 16 points a game in the ABA, proving that the NBA had missed out on a serious talent.

When he finally transitioned to coaching—first with the Spurs, then the Nuggets, and briefly the 76ers—he brought that underdog chip on his shoulder with him. He coached like a guy who knew what it was like to have the game taken away.

A Legacy Of Laughter and Buckets

The numbers are impressive. Moe racked up 628 wins over his career. He won 432 games in Denver, a franchise record that stood tall for 34 years until Michael Malone finally eclipsed it in 2024. He took the Nuggets to the playoffs nine straight years.

But stats don’t tell you about the man. Moe was the anti-establishment coach. In an era of buttoned-up disciplinarians, he was the guy drinking a Diet Coke on the bench, telling the media his team played like “a bunch of stiffs” after a win. It was a term of endearment, a part of the unique lexicon that made him so beloved in Denver.

George Karl, another coaching legend who followed in Moe’s footsteps, put it best on social media: “Doug Moe was my big brother. I am sad today. I will miss him.”

Moe wasn’t just a coach; he was a character in the truest sense of the word. He proved you could win without sacrificing your personality. He showed that basketball is, at its core, a game of movement and joy. The NBA has lost a pioneer. Denver has lost a legend. But somewhere, the “Big Stiff” is probably looking down, loosening his tie, and yelling at someone to move the ball.