It has been five decades since the night the Slam Dunk Contest was born, but David Thompson remembers it like it happened yesterday.

Thompson, one of five players to compete in the first Slam Dunk Contest at the 1976 ABA All-Star Game, will never forget how the sold-out crowd at McNichols Arena in Denver erupted after "Dr. J with his Afro blowing in the wind took off from the free-throw line.”

“I knew I might be in a bit of trouble,” Thompson, who starred for the Denver Nuggets, told Newsday with a laugh.

Tuesday is the 50th anniversary of the iconic dunk that Julius “Dr. J” Erving of the New York Nets landed to win the contest, which was held at halftime of what would be the ABA’s final All-Star Game. Besides the people in the arena and television audiences in five ABA cities, no one watched the dunk live.

There was no "ESPN SportsCenter." No big-time national sports television contract. Yet, the legend of the dunk has grown to the point where millions have watched the grainy footage of the contest on YouTube. The NBA, which launched its own Slam Dunk Contest in 1984, a few years ago named the first-place trophy after “Dr. J." And, most recently, the dunk is featured in a docuseries, "Soul Power: The Legend of the American Basketball Association," which debuts next month on Amazon Prime.

How big was this one basket?

Some believe Erving’s dunk was the moment basketball began to move from a fairly static, walk-the-ball-up-the-court league to the world of high-flying entertainment. Indeed, a number of defining aspects of today’s NBA, including the three-point line, were pioneered by the ABA, the league that operated for nine seasons before forcing a merger with four of its teams joining the NBA in 1976, including the Nets, who played at Nassau Coliseum.

The odd thing about it all is that the dunk contest was a last-minute addition, almost an afterthought as the league prepared for what most knew would be its last All-Star Game. Heading into the game, the ABA was on life support with three of its teams having folded in the first month of the season. ABA officials knew the game could be their last hurrah, and they wanted to go out with a bang.

So, in the fall of 1976, league officials met at a downtown hotel in Denver to brainstorm ways to sell out the event.

Promoters decided to sign country stars Glen Campbell and Charlie Rich to perform a pregame concert, a seemingly odd fit for a league that had a distinct urban vibe.

With only seven teams left in the league, the ABA knew it didn’t have enough to field a true All-Star event, so it devised a format where stars from six teams would take on the team that finished the first half of the season with the best record and prayed that the hometown Nuggets would be the team that did. (As luck would have it, that’s how things turned out.)

Still, the league was looking for something unique to showcase its athletes. It was the late Carl Scheer, the innovative general manager of the Nuggets, who suggested a Slam Dunk Contest.

“We were sitting around thinking that we needed to show the world we belonged,” Scheer told the Rocky Mountain News in 2005. “In the ABA, the game was played above the rim and the NBA below the rim. So, we said, ‘Let’s have a contest to showcase our dunking skills. Let’s see who the best dunker is.’ ”

Five of ABA's best invited to perform

Five players — Thompson, Erving, Artis Gilmore of the Kentucky Colonels, George Gervin of the San Antonio Spurs and Larry Kenon, also from the Spurs — were invited to participate. Beyond that, there really wasn’t a whole lot of planning other than to let the players know they would have a two-minute turn to complete five consecutive dunks from specific areas on the court.

The festivities began on a Tuesday night with Campbell singing his hit "Rhinestone Cowboy" in front of a sellout crowd of 17,798. Because all the chairs had to be removed from the floor after the concert, the actual All-Star Game didn’t start until well after 9 p.m. in Denver. By the time the Slam Dunk Contest started, it was well after midnight in New York.

An announcer explained to the crowd the rules of the event. One of the dunks had to come from a standing position underneath the basket and another had to be from at least 10 feet away from the basket. Two others had to come from each side of the lane and the remaining dunk was from either of the two corners.

It is generally agreed that Gilmore, a 7-2 Hall of Fame center for the Colonels nicknamed the "A-Train," was at a distinct disadvantage since he was the first player to go.

“No, I didn’t practice,” Gilmore told Newsday. “I wasn’t aware of the process or how it was going to work. Since I was the first one to go, they were basically walking me through the steps . . . For me, I don’t know if they put me in because I was an All-Star. But me being 7-foot there wasn’t a whole lot they were evaluating.”

Though it was a five-man contest, almost everyone in the arena knew that the event was going to come down to the final two players, Thompson, a 6-4 rookie nicknamed "Skywalker" after landing in the Guinness Book of World of Records for his 46-inch vertical leap, and Erving, the biggest name in the league who grew up in Hempstead and played for the Nets at the Nassau Coliseum.

Thompson, a fan favorite since he played for the Nuggets, went first. Though he missed his fourth dunk, he appeared to have a good chance of winning it all when he threw down what is believed to be the first recorded 360 dunk. Erving would later call the 360 dunk the best of the day and when you play back the tape, you can hear the crowd gasp as he puts it down.

“Dr. J was a big reason I was in the league,” said Thompson, who along with his daughter, a sports psychologist, has recently published a graphic novel for young athletes based on his legacy. “I knew what the competition was going to be. I was excited about it. I was the only rookie and the shortest guy. But I knew I could dunk with anybody.”

Erving began his turn by dunking two balls under the rim. He then lined up for the second dunk, the one which was supposed to come 10 feet away from the basket.

There had been a rumor before the game that Erving was going to attempt to take off from the foul line, a full 15 feet from the front of the backboard. No one had ever done such a thing and lore has it that Denver assistant coach Doug Moe made a $1,500 bet with Kevin Loughery, the head coach of the Nets, that Erving couldn’t do it. (The existence of the bet has never been confirmed on the record.)

Erving, ever the showman, walked to the foul line, turned and then with an exaggerated motion bounded seven steps to the opposite free-throw line, tracing out a path like he was a long jumper at a track meet.

And then it happened. Erving took off running in his short shorts, soared through the air and with his right hand put down the dunk that is still being talked about to this day.

“It was something extraordinary,” Gilmore remembered. “Everyone knew it.”

Thompson remembers being so upset that he lost that he vowed to win the All-Star Game. He did and was named MVP, receiving a free television as his reward. Since then, he has come to appreciate just how special the dunk and that competition was.

“We were young and able and put on a good show,” Thompson said. “We started it all. That may have been it for the league, but I think the guys today appreciate us and what we did for the game.”

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