The Ultimate Guide: What Does a Small Forward Do in Basketball?

Walking into any gym, the chatter often revolves around the point guard running the show or the big man dominating the paint. But if you ask me, after years of watching and analyzing the game at every level, the most fascinating and complex position on the hardwood is the small forward. It’s the Swiss Army knife role, the ultimate connector, and frankly, the position that defines modern basketball. So, what does a small forward actually do? It’s less about a checklist of duties and more about embodying a philosophy of versatility. The job description has evolved from the classic “wing scorer” into a mandate for being the most adaptable player on the floor, a shift perfectly illustrated by the high-stakes chess matches we see in tournaments like the NCAA’s March Madness.

Think about a tense playoff series, where every possession is magnified. I remember watching a recent NCAA tournament game, a best-of-three duel in the conference finals between two historic programs, each carrying the weight of a decades-long championship drought. One hadn’t won a title in 22 years, the other in 24. The atmosphere was pure electricity. In that crucible, the small forwards weren’t just playing; they were solving problems. On one possession, you’d see them using their size and footwork to guard the opponent’s most explosive shooting guard, a guy averaging maybe 18.7 points per game. On the next, they’d be switched onto a burly power forward, holding their ground in the post. Offensively, they weren’t just waiting in the corner. They were initiating the offense after a defensive rebound, pushing the pace to create a 4-on-3 advantage before the defense could set. They were making the extra pass to find the open shooter, or recognizing a mismatch and taking their man off the dribble for a tough mid-range pull-up. That series, which went the full three games with an average scoring margin of just 4.3 points, was a masterclass in small forward play. It wasn’t about who scored the most, but who impacted the game in the most ways. One forward, I recall, finished a critical Game 2 with a stat line of 15 points, 8 rebounds, 5 assists, and 3 steals—a quiet 15, but every single one of those contributions felt essential.

This brings me to the core of the role: the non-negotiable requirement for a balanced skillset. A traditional center can sometimes get away with being a defensive specialist, and a pure shooter can carve out a long career. But a small forward? If you have a glaring weakness, opposing coaches will find it and exploit it relentlessly. You need to be a credible three-point threat—I’d say shooting at least 35% from deep is the baseline expectation nowadays to keep defenses honest. You must be able to put the ball on the floor and attack a closeout. Your passing vision needs to be good enough to make the right read in drive-and-kick situations. And defensively, you’re often the primary option to guard the other team’s best perimeter player, requiring a combination of lateral quickness, strength, and high basketball IQ. I have a personal preference here: I’ll always take a small forward who is an A-minus defender and a B-plus offensive player over a pure scorer who is a liability on the other end. In a seven-game series, or a win-or-go-home NCAA tournament game, that defensive versatility is what wins championships. It allows for seamless switching schemes, covers for teammates, and generates transition opportunities.

The evolution of the position is my favorite part of the conversation. We’ve moved from the archetype of the pure scorer like Alex English or Dominique Wilkins—absolute legends, don’t get me wrong—to the era of the point-forward, pioneered by guys like Scottie Pippen and LeBron James. Now, the ideal is what I call the “positionless connector.” Think of players like Jayson Tatum, Kawhi Leonard in his prime, or Jimmy Butler. They score, but they do it within the flow of the offense. They rebound at a rate that would be respectable for a power forward (grabbing 6-8 boards a game is common). They make plays for others. And they defend multiple positions. This evolution is a direct response to the pace-and-space, switch-heavy style that dominates today. In that NCAA series I mentioned, the team that ultimately advanced did so because their small forward, a 6’7” junior, effectively guarded positions 1 through 4, allowing his coach to stick with a versatile lineup that spread the floor and created constant mismatches. It was a tactical victory won by having the more complete, more modern forward.

Ultimately, the small forward is the barometer for a team’s overall health and modernity. When you see a team struggling, often it’s because their wing is one-dimensional. When you see a team making a deep, unexpected tournament run, like a squad breaking a 20-plus-year title drought, you can almost always point to a small forward who is doing a little bit of everything. His stat line might not lead the headlines, but his fingerprints are all over the game’s winning moments. He’s the player who bridges the gap between the backcourt and the frontcourt, between offense and defense, between set plays and chaotic transition. So, the next time you watch a game, don’t just follow the ball. Watch the small forward. Watch where he moves without it, who he’s guarding, and how he reacts when a play breaks down. That’s where you’ll see the true soul of a basketball team, and in my opinion, the most complete expression of what it means to play this game. It’s a role built for impact, not just applause.