"They are taking steps, but they are baby steps"
About this Quote
Spoken by Julius Erving, the line balances praise and pressure. Progress is acknowledged, but its scale is deliberately minimized. Steps are happening, yet their size signals hesitation, risk aversion, or lack of urgency. The phrase functions as both encouragement and critique: keep moving, but pick up the pace.
The metaphor matters. Baby steps are wobbly and cautious, the first moves toward competence. They are necessary, even hopeful, but they do not cover ground quickly. That duality gives the sentence its edge. It refuses to deny improvement, but it also refuses to mistake motion for momentum. It asks listeners to differentiate between activity that looks like change and action that actually transforms outcomes.
Coming from Erving, the tone carries the weight of a pioneer who has seen genuine leaps. He entered a league finding its identity, helped bridge the ABA-NBA divide, and became a symbol of creative excellence that forced the game forward. When someone with that history calls advances baby steps, he is measuring them against eras when the sport, its business, and its culture evolved through bold decisions. He knows the difference between cosmetic adjustments and substantive shifts.
The line applies naturally to a struggling team, a front office rebuild, or a league initiative on player welfare, diversity, or community impact. It captures a familiar pattern: institutions announce plans, set up committees, tweak rules, and declare progress. Some of it is real; some of it is theater. The sentence declines both cynicism and complacency. It rewards intention, but only insofar as intention matures into scale, speed, and accountability.
There is also a call to responsibility embedded in the grammar. Steps are being taken by a vague they. Naming who they are, clarifying goals, setting timelines, and measuring results turns baby steps into strides. Until then, the movement remains careful, partial, and reversible, a start worth noting but not yet a finish worth celebrating.
The metaphor matters. Baby steps are wobbly and cautious, the first moves toward competence. They are necessary, even hopeful, but they do not cover ground quickly. That duality gives the sentence its edge. It refuses to deny improvement, but it also refuses to mistake motion for momentum. It asks listeners to differentiate between activity that looks like change and action that actually transforms outcomes.
Coming from Erving, the tone carries the weight of a pioneer who has seen genuine leaps. He entered a league finding its identity, helped bridge the ABA-NBA divide, and became a symbol of creative excellence that forced the game forward. When someone with that history calls advances baby steps, he is measuring them against eras when the sport, its business, and its culture evolved through bold decisions. He knows the difference between cosmetic adjustments and substantive shifts.
The line applies naturally to a struggling team, a front office rebuild, or a league initiative on player welfare, diversity, or community impact. It captures a familiar pattern: institutions announce plans, set up committees, tweak rules, and declare progress. Some of it is real; some of it is theater. The sentence declines both cynicism and complacency. It rewards intention, but only insofar as intention matures into scale, speed, and accountability.
There is also a call to responsibility embedded in the grammar. Steps are being taken by a vague they. Naming who they are, clarifying goals, setting timelines, and measuring results turns baby steps into strides. Until then, the movement remains careful, partial, and reversible, a start worth noting but not yet a finish worth celebrating.
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