I will never forget the first game of the 2001 NBA Finals. Sure, there are a plethora of fantastic NBA memories that permeate the landscape of my mind (too many, quite frankly), but few contests have piqued my interest over the years quite like game one, Sixers at Lakers, 6/6/2001.
Do you remember the pre-game hysteria? Los Angeles had just completed a scintillating, unblemished run through the Western Conference playoffs, culminating in a 111-82 destruction of the San Antonio Spurs that had everyone, including yours truly, EXPECTING a Finals sweep and perfect post-season record. It was inevitable, we all thought, considering which team had emerged out of the weaker Eastern Conference: Allen Iverson and his 76ers.
I was as captivated as the rest of the country with Iverson and his band of overachievers. Seriously, the starting line-up consisted of Dikembe Mutombo (past his prime at this point, but still effective defensively), George Lynch, Eric Snow, Aaron McKie, and Tyrone Hill. Did anyone envision that starting unit competing well against a team that destroyed the Duncan-led Spurs? Look, the Sixers thrived defensively during the season (5th in opponents PPG) under Larry Brown’s tutelage, but come on! This was the Shaq and Kobe show, championship version 2.0.
Then Philadelphia fractured the Lakers invincibility by winning the opener 107-101 in overtime behind 48 breathtaking points from Iverson and five blocks and sixteen boards from Mutombo (against Shaq? In 2001? Pretty good, I say). The cross-over/jumper over Tyronne Lue in overtime iced the game for the Sixers and cemented one of the greatest upsets in Finals history.
Never in my sports-watching life had I openly rooted for another NBA squad other than my hometown Celtics, regardless of the setting. However, Allen Iverson mesmerized me during the 2001 playoffs between his duel in the quarterfinals with Vince Carter (he was decent once, you know) and the seven-game battle with the upstart Milwaukee Bucks. The man played forty-two minutes or more in EVERY playoff game leading to the finals and twice played to the seven-game limit. For those of us relegated to playing in local men’s basketball league’s each winter, the six-foot Iverson was a warrior in high-tops who was about to take on the biggest Goliath the post-season had witnessed since Jordan patrolled the perimeter in 1996.
Despite my optimism, the over-matched 76ers couldn’t wrestle another game from those vaunted Lakers, although each game remained relatively close and Iverson and his team never gave up despite the odds. After this series, despite not being a huge Iverson fan originally, I jumped on his ever-growing bandwagon of believers. How could you not?! The man could average thirty points a night in slippers and a bathrobe!
Sometimes I wish I never had.
For in 2010 (and a few years before, of course) I have realized the error of my ways. The NBA, after years of promoting isolation-type players like Iverson, finally spawned many teams who run legit ball-movement offenses and play beautiful, team-oriented basketball. I realize that scoring has increased due to the NBA minimizing perimeter contact, but do yourself a favor and look up a few clips from the late Jordan years and the first couple post-Jordan. Play in general has become much more entertaining, and due to this philosophical change Allen Iverson will not be missed by most. In many ways this is unfortunate yet understandable.
Why is this? How could one of the most celebrated players from the start of the century be reviled this much despite having a few years left of talent in that aging body? For reasons only he can justify, the man simply couldn’t transition to the new NBA way of life and finally admit that his time had passed, both in skill and in league ideology. The way he handled his time in Detroit and Memphis destroyed any goodwill he had left within league circles and, by signing with Turkish-league team Besiktas, allows me a chance to look back on his career legacy.
I have been left confused as to how I should view/remember Allen Iverson at times. Do I remember him for his effort and scoring prowess despite his lithe frame, generating highlight plays almost nightly? Do I reminisce over ankle-breaking cross-overs and picked-pockets leading to breakaway scores? Do I think of Iverson and evoke images of him leading a team with George Lynch as the starting SF to the finals? Do I talk with my future children about watching one of the singular-greatest talents ever to play in his prime? Sure - within reason and with caution.
As much as I wish to remember him fondly from my younger days I appreciate that what Iverson stood for in the NBA landcape is no longer overly rewarded. Instead of longing for an A.I. isolation play, I am able to visualize Steve Nash thread the needle to Hakim Warrick (!) off a pick-and-roll, Ray Allen stroke an open jump shot after a perfectly set Kevin Garnett screen, Pau Gasol make the pass that leads to the pass that generates an assist for Kobe Bryant in that unfathomable triangle offense, Kevin Durant (I love this kid!) decline to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated unless two of his teammates could join in, and Tom Thibodeau’s unrelenting defensive rotations. Thankfully, I have matured (and understand the game better) to the point where I appreciate unselfishness, the ability to play within an offensive and defensive structure, and an unwavering work ethic more than the occasional highlight. I simply cannot justify a love of Allen Iverson’s game, now or in his prime, based off these principles. This is not to say that he didn’t hustle “during” a game - try to find many players who gave it their all in the same fashion as he did each night - but that what Iverson ultimately stood for is not something I cherish. While Allen Iverson was absolutely one of the greatest talents this league has ever known the times have definitely changed and, while we still have our ball-hogging, selfish players out there, thankfully most teams are truly trying to promote a more free-flowing, exciting brand of ball.
Despite the fact that I don’t miss his game much these days, I will admit that I remember vividly how I felt that June night in 2001. The cross-over… the fade-away… the high-stepping over Lue after making the shot in defiance. Yeah, that was an amazing moment.
I suppose that while I don’t necessarily yearn for Allen Iverson’s style of play, I will always cherish the rush he delivered in the moment back then every night he stepped on the court. Just because my thoughts about the game have changed don’t mean the experiences fade away.
Just like each time I drive by my old high-school parking lot and think of tearing up even though I have zero desire to go back… I’ll miss you A.I.
Do you feel the same? Has time tarnished his legacy with you?