A Basketball Eulogy: "Homage to The Answer"

At first glance you’d be hard pressed to find any connection between a black kid from the hard streets of Newport News, Virginia and a white, Jewish kid from the not-so-hard suburbs of Philadelphia. But, for a decade that spanned the mid 90’s to the mid 00’s, Allen Iverson and I shared a special connection (well, special to me at least). The one and only thing we wanted was for the Philadelphia 76ers to become World Champions. He played, I watched. He bled, I bled. He scored, I bragged about his dominance. He held his hand to his ear on the Wachovia Center court, and you’re damn right I screamed as loud as I could.

Allen was more than a basketball player. He was more than just, “The Answer.” To this one little white Jewish kid; along with the rest of Philadelphia, the state of Virginia, and a growing worldwide culture, Allen Iverson was hope. He was greatness. He symbolized the very essence of life in this country. He made it from nothing to something. And most importantly, he did it his way.

To say that he was not loved by all would be an understatement, but that divide was created because older generations, and even whites from this generation, just plain old did not understand Iverson. And listen, I’m not saying I understand him either, how could I? But what I do understand is that he came from a different culture than I did. He saw different things as a child, he was raised in a different way, he had different friends, and he had a different view of the world we live in. But was this the wrong way, or the wrong view? No, it was just different. Allen was not afforded all that I was growing up. He wasn’t as lucky or as fortunate. He didn’t have money in his pocket, a father to teach him right from wrong, or even the safety and comfort of a home. What AI did have though was something that can’t be taught. He had the talent, courage, and desire to get out of the situation he was in. And he did just that. To not respect that, even if you don’t understand him as a person, would be foolish and ignorant to say the least.

I’m not going to get into everything Iverson overcame. Anyone who knows anything about Iverson or the NBA knows what he overcame. I don’t wanna dampen the mood of this, my first blog entry, with a depressing story about how a 17-year-old Iverson was jailed in the midst of a whirlwind of racism that swept through the entire Hampton, Virginia area in the early 90’s. Ultimately, that’s not going to be what’s remembered of the little warrior nicknamed “Bubbachuck” anyway. What will be remembered is that not one person who ever donned an NBA jersey tried harder. More importantly, what will be remembered is that there is a good chance that not one other athlete who reached the level of stardom that Allen Iverson elevated himself to, had to overcome more adversity than he conquered.

As for me, I’ll remember the time at Georgetown when Iverson jumped from the foul line to catch a missed free throw and seemingly defied gravity by hammering it down for a thunderous dunk that dropped the collective jaws of everyone watching.

I’ll remember when my Sixers won the 1996 Draft Lottery and we all knew we were taking the 5 foot 11 inch Allen Iverson over the 7 foot Center named Marcus Camby. Go back in history and find me another time when a player under 6 feet was drafted first ahead of an All-American Center. You won’t. It just does NOT happen.

I’ll remember the night a 20-year-old rookie had the balls to crossover Jordan, and with one quick dribble from left to right announce to the world, “I’m here and no one can stop me!”

I’ll remember when AI averaged 24 per game as a 150 pound rookie.

I’ll remember the time he set a playoff game record with 10 steals against the Orlando Magic on the way to his first playoff series win.

I’ll remember the time he traded 50-point games with Vince Carter in that epic playoff duel that, of course, Iverson came out on top of.

I’ll remember the night The Answer became the smallest player in NBA history to score 60 points in a game.

And obviously I will always and forever remember the time he stepped over Tyronne Lue. That was the greatest non-championship-winning moment of my sports watching life. It was so cool that I don’t even have to explain it and you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’ll remember the night in June when he beat the unbeatable Los Angeles Lakers led by Shaq and Kobe, by far the best team the NBA has seen since Jordan’s Bulls. And if you forgot already, his sidekicks were Eric Snow, George Hill, Tyrone Hill, and a 73-year-old Dikembe Mutombo – not exactly a murderer’s row of talent.

I’ll remember the swagger with which Iverson carried himself, and his oversized heart that ran to the beat of a different drummer. A drummer that wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, I mean.

I’ll remember practice. “We talkin’ bout’ practice, not a game, not a game, we talkin’ bout’ practice!”

I’ll remember the arm sleeve, the doo-rag, the incredibly artistic tattoos, the braids, the tears, the fallouts with Coach Brown, and then the time he sat on Coach’s lap to accept his MVP award.

And of course, who could forget the statistical accomplishments? The 56-win season, the Rookie of the Year, the MVP, the 11 All-Star games, 4 NBA Scoring Titles, and 7 All-NBA Teams.

Allen Iverson was a little warrior in every sense of the term. In fact, I want Webster’s to add that to the dictionary next year and next to it just put, “See Iverson, Allen.” No one was more fearless. No one tried harder. No one that size will ever take the beating he took and continue to play at the level he played. He was the greatest under-6-foot scorer the league has ever seen. He looked like a boy amongst men……until they threw the ball up at midcourt, at which time everyone came to know that he was the unquestioned Man of the court. The 76ers haven’t been the same since he left, and I’m not sure they’ll ever be the same again.

Well that’s my tribute to AI, or at least all I felt like writing for now. So please allow me to re-introduce myself, my name is HOV, H to the O-V. No, it’s really not, but Jay said it better than I ever could, plus I don’t feel like giving my real name yet and I thought it would be a little gay for me to put, “my name is The Esquire.” And to the man, the myth, the legend, The Answer – Allen Iverson – thanks for your unwavering effort and for the memories that will stay with me always. Oh yea, and thanks for inspiring my first blog. To everyone else (if anyone is actually reading this) I hope you enjoyed it. If you continue to read, and you fuckin’ better if you know what’s good for you, then here’s what you can expect to find:
Tons of sports articles, pictures of hot bitches, weekly movie reviews, weekly article entitled “This Week in Sports We Learned”, hilarious videos, top 10 lists, a few legal tips here and there because, I mean, that is my day job and all, and much more.

I know I’m lazy, but I know my sports, and I know I can write……or at least I think I can. So check me out, you won’t be disappointed.