Basketball is the one sport where the story of an individual often times rivals that of a franchise. It is not always for the betterment of the team or sport either, but it is what it is. Around this time last year, the very public downfall of Allen Iverson played out like movie. He had gone from the unequivocal “bad boy” in the NBA to one of those former superstars and pop culture figures that are only spoken of in the “you remember when?” sense. Allen’s foray into playing ball overseas was always taken with a hint of doubt, at least by me. But in a weird sense, my current connection to the guy is stronger now than it ever was when he played in the NBA.
Sports stories have always captivated me, even the train wrecks. Scratch that, especially the train wrecks. They’re real life tales of figures many viewed as larger than life and, foolishly at times, untouchable. Yeah, I’m a basketball nerd. Shoot me. There are not many careers more intriguing and tumultuous as A.I.’s. Think back to a decade ago when he was arguably the league’s best player and without question the most courageous.
Bubba Chuck was Chocolate City royalty during the NBA’s 2001 All-Star Weekend taking home MVP honors. Yet, the urban legends of those 72 hours helped create the mystique which is Allen Iverson’s chinked armor. He avoided sleep. He partied every moment he could. And he recuperated by dropping 25 points, five assists and five steals in Sunday’s nightcap. That’s not just me making stuff up either. Andrew Sharp of SB Nation recounts the same tale.
Supposed highs like this for “The Answer” make the realities of his lows uniquely difficult to take in. It happens to thousands of other ex-players obviously, but that is beyond the point. Sunday, the former most valuable player of the NBA’s midseason classic allegedly watched the very same game in Atlanta’s “Wet Willies.” Alone. In sweat pants. To residents of the A, this probably isn’t news, so feel free to stop reading here. Where I’m from, however, if a person is staring off into space in the club while wearing sweats, he’s going through some things even he cannot truly figure out.
Stephen A. Smith said last year A.I. needed more than a prayer. He still does. At some point, he will realize the dream of playing basketball is just that – a dream – and life does not end with the last 20-second timeout. Once the hardest man on a basketball court is now seen as a joke by the same people who probably idolized him and such is life. At some point though, the Hall Of Fame will come calling for Iverson. He failed to win any championships and probably made just as many enemies as confidants along the way.
I guarantee one thing. His induction speech will go down as one of the most honest moments in sports history. It has to.
Previously Posted — When Answers Turn Into Questions
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