The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated

Allen Iverson. The name, instantly recognizable amongst basketball fans the world over, strikes fear into the hearts of defenders. The man stands barely six feet tall –diminutive by NBA standards. Those who see him in “real life” are often stunned by his small stature. That someone of his height made it in the NBA is in itself remarkable. That he’s become one of the greatest players of all time, someone to be mentioned in the same breath as the contenders for “greatest NBA player of all time” – the Abdul-Jabbars, the Jordans, the Birds, and the like – is nothing short of spectacular. His style of play has always been beautiful – there’s something balletic about the spin moves, the patented crossover dribble that’s nearly broken defender’s ankles, the drives down the lane culminating in shots that defy the laws of gravity. He’s won numerous awards and honors including Rookie of the Year honors, All-Star MVP, regular season MVP, and the adulation of fans and commentators alike. Yet he claims that all this means nothing to him – unless he wins a team trophy.

How Iverson has gone this long without a title is almost a mystery. He posts numbers that are consistently amazing – the 30+ points per game average this season is just par for the course. On Thursday he tied Oscar Robertson for fourth on the list of 40+ points in a game (77). What should have been considered a major accomplishment barely got a mention in a week dominated by coaching news – there was The War of the Words between Shaquille O’Neal and his former coach in Los Angeles Phil Jackson, Bobby Knight’s quest to pass Dean Smith for the all-time Division I coaching wins record, and of course, Denver’s own George Karl hitting the 800-win mark. All of that overshadowed AI’s performance. Everyone takes it for granted that he’ll carry his team, whatever team that may be, that he’ll play through the injuries that would sideline players with lesser drive, that he’ll post stellar numbers. He’s set the bar high for himself.

But he has yet to win championship. After his demand to be traded to another team, Philly fans were sad but let him go. They understood. He’d given everything to their team. He carried them on his 6’0” frame to the NBA Finals, but needed help to get the ring and got none. The organization was woefully undermanned year after year. Even when another future Hall-of-Famer joined the team in the form of Chris Webber, it was only after injuries had rendered him a shadow of his former self. Although the two proved to be one of the best duos in the league, it still wasn’t enough. AI needed to move on, a decade in the league and he expected to have won a championship by now and the adulation of his fans, a city that loved him, personal awards, none of it meant a thing to him without the ring.

AI is a champion because he cares – a quality sorely lacking in many professional athletes. And that in itself is to be applauded. Philly fans let him go with no hard feelings because they respected his desire for a ring. In an age where the talk around the league is of image-damaging brawls and self-centered athletes, who would’ve guessed in the draft of ’96 that AI would come to epitomize the qualities the league needs most in its athletes – that drive to do nothing but win an NBA championship, to enjoy playing basketball, and to get the fans to enjoy watching the game again.