Growing up in the small town of Dallas, Pa., my family had a basketball hoop in the middle of my childhood home’s driveway. This hoop accompanied me throughout my adolescence. If I ever had a free minute, chances are I was outside shooting on this damn hoop.
The phrase “get inside and wash your hands for dinner,” in my mother’s voice, haunted me in my dreams for years.
Just like any other kid, I would put myself in certain hypothetical scenarios back in that driveway. Sometimes I would pretend to be Gerry McNamara. Other times it was Bob Sura.
If you aren’t from northeastern Pennsylvania, there’s a good chance you might not know either of those players. But one player who I, along with every other young basketball player in Pennsylvania — or any state for that matter — aspired to be like was none other than NBA legend Allen Iverson.
The former Sixer great is dearly loved in the City of Brotherly Love, and that showed on Monday when he was elected into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. Tweets and posts galore flooded Iverson’s inbox, timeline, etc., which just goes to show how much of an impact he has had in Philadelphia.
But his influence doesn’t stop there. Not only did he change Philly, he changed the NBA forever. He truly revolutionized the game — just not practice.
A lot of the time when I say that to friends or coworkers, I get a baffled look and a snarky comment, as if Iverson revolutionizing the game is a crazy notion. But I think most people who take a look at his career and then take a step back to see the bigger picture would agree that the current makeup of the NBA has Iverson’s fingerprints all over it.
Some would suggest that the NBA is now a hip-hop-driven league, in which the stars of both industries are featured together, hang out together, etc. Well, Iverson started that.
From the music he listened to, to the clothes he would wear, Iverson personified hip-hop. The point guard would show up to pre-game interviews, post-game interviews, award ceremonies, you name it, in whatever the hell he wanted. If he wanted to wear a do-rag that night, he was going to do it. If he wanted to wear a few gold chains, he did. There was no dress code for Allen Iverson.
Think about all of the crazy outfits that are worn today by players before games, outfits the public looks forward to and cares about. Now, I’m not oblivious to think that if not for Iverson, there never could have been another to eventually help ring in this hip-hop era. The reason players are able to do that these days, however, is because of Iverson.
And DON’T EVEN get me started on Iverson’s beautiful, near-perfect — nope, it’s definitely perfect — crossover. How many times have you heard a current NBA player say they looked up to Iverson growing up? Maybe they molded their game after him?
If you need an example, look no further than Chris Paul, who has admitted on a number of occasions that Iverson influenced the way he plays AND is why he wears No. 3. The impact Iverson has had on the league is undeniable.
Now, back to what I know you all wanted to hear about: my driveway playing days. Well, it’s a short-lived story, as I quickly realized my short stature was suited more for the water boy at the end of the bench than a professional basketball player. But that didn’t keep me from playing the game, and Iverson’s heart while playing had a lot to do with that.
I don’t want to get misconstrued. Iverson had physical gifts not many people on this Earth get to share, and those certainly played a factor in his success. But it was his will and determination that truly separated him as a player. Every game, whether it was a game against the worst team in the league (convenient how that is now the 76ers) or a Game 7 playoff contest, Iverson was giving 110 percent, and everyone could see that.
It didn’t matter that he was a generous six feet tall. It didn’t matter that he was getting banged up on a nightly basis. Injuries or not, you could always count on this guy stepping on the hardwood, ready to give his all. He gave the little guy a voice, which, in the game of basketball, is hard to do.
It’s fitting that Iverson will join the Hall of Fame with two dominant centers in Yao Ming and Shaquille O’Neal, both more than deserving. Ming revolutionized the game and opened up an entirely new audience for the NBA. O’Neal, on the other hand, was arguably, at times, the most dominant player at his position.
Standing over a foot shorter than both, Iverson somehow managed to do both.
@GriffDoug