John Wall Hints The Death Of True Point Guards Has Begun

John Wall sees a shift happening in the NBA and it’s not one he’s celebrating. On a recent episode of The Dawg Talk Podcast, the former Washington Wizards star issued a warning: the death of the “true” point guard is already underway.

"You're really putting two guards as point guards now. But if you're on a team with a guy that can't create his own shot, and the point guard is the guy that's going to push the pace to get you open shots, do I really want to play with that type of guy? Do I want to be on this team? You know what I mean?" 

"Because I'm not just out here to run cardio. You're putting in all the work to guard the best players, so I always looked at it as, I can get my shot whenever. I always want to put pace in the game because, how can I make somebody else better? How can I get this guy paid?"

"Like that's how I looked at mine: if I get this guy paid, I did my job as a point guard. It's not too many point guards like that now. You know what I mean? You got like Haliburton, that's really pushing the pace, getting guys going. I mean, CP, even though he's older, he's still doing those things. But you very rarely..."

In an era where flashy scoring is celebrated, Wall’s vision of a point guard feels increasingly rare. He spoke with conviction about the traditional role not just pushing the pace or setting up offense, but taking pride in getting teammates paid, keeping the game flowing, and reading situations with a selfless lens.

Wall, who once led the league in assists and consistently ranked among the top playmakers in his prime, is the prototype of the athletic floor general. Fast, aggressive, and unselfish, he ran Washington's offense with purpose. But now, he sees something else entirely.

Indeed, Tyrese Haliburton stands out as a modern playmaker who not only racks up assists but thrives in transition, the exact style Wall once perfected. Chris Paul, despite his age, remains the gold standard for point guard orchestration. 

And then there’s Trae Young, someone Wall didn’t name directly on the pod, but who belongs firmly in the discussion.

Young has consistently ranked among the league’s assist leaders, blending deep shooting with slick passing. While he certainly gets his own buckets, his ability to operate in the pick-and-roll and generate points for others makes him one of the few remaining modern point guards with true old-school DNA. 

De’Aaron Fox and Ja Morant also have those instincts, albeit packaged in blistering athleticism. Darius Garland, too, blends score-first capability with a real eye for playmaking.

But the list thins fast.

Players like Jalen Brunson, Devin Booker, and Tyrese Maxey are all guards who initiate offense but lean toward the combo-guard mold. 

James Harden, Luka Doncic, and Cade Cunningham are primary ballhandlers with big frames and elite vision, but they blur the lines between positions, blending scorer and passer, often more heliocentric than floor-general. 

And Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, the reigning MVP and Finals MVP, is undoubtedly one of the league’s most dangerous weapons, but he’s a scorer first, a backcourt assassin who doesn’t live to set others up.

And then there’s Stephen Curry, the ultimate anomaly.

While Curry is listed as a point guard, we could argue he’s a “system” more than a position. Curry doesn’t run the offense in the classic sense. He is the offense. His off-ball gravity, shooting threat, and constant motion force defenses to warp around him. He breaks every rule of what a traditional point guard was, and makes it beautiful.

Still, for Wall, that beauty comes with a loss.

His point isn’t to throw shade, it’s to highlight how the game has evolved from floor generals to floor dominators. The role has shifted, and with it, the very essence of what it means to be a point guard. Fewer players are being trained to think like passers. Even fewer are being praised for it.

John Wall isn’t bitter; he’s observant. As the league changes, he’s simply pointing out what’s being lost in the process: a generation of guards who defined greatness not by how many points they scored, but by how many lives they elevated on the court.