
There is no way to accelerate the process. Some things just take as long as they take, even if you are Allen Iverson. That's the real lesson that Iverson, the Philadelphia 76ers' breathtakingly talented guard, had to learn. It doesn't matter that he's a 6-foot, 165-pound blur, so quick that when he goes to the basket, you half expect him to leave a trail of smoke. His NBA education still had to happen at its own pace, in fits and starts. The lightbulb over his cornrows had to flicker a bit before it finally illuminated everything. During his first two years in the league, Iverson raced recklessly around the court, claiming to be the Answer but raising only questions about his game. The harder he tried to impress his critics with his acrobatic shotmaking and lightning-quick crossover dribble, the more undisciplined he looked and the louder his detractors howled. Charles Barkley disdainfully dubbed him Allen Me-Myself-and-Iverson and "the playground rookie of the year." But if Iverson hadn't slogged his way through all of the errors and the insults, he might never have figured out that the harsh words of his coach could actually make him better. He might never have tried to adapt to a new position, shooting guard, that seems perfectly suited for his style. Iverson can see the purpose behind his missteps now. He can see that sometimes the hard way is the only way. "I didn't come into this league thinking I knew everything, the way some people think I did," the 23-year-old Iverson says. "I knew I had a lot to learn. I just wanted to learn it all right away. One of the things you find out is that you can't rush things. You just have to keep working. You have to go through the good times and the bad times to get to where you're trying to go." Iverson may not be quite there yet, but he is accelerating along the learning curve, zooming toward a scoring title with a league-leading 29.2 points per game through Sunday. More important, his enlightened approach had sparked the Sixers to a 10-7 record, their hottest start since 1990-91, which was also the last time they reached the playoffs. "I'm the best guard in the league," Iverson says flatly, and an increasing number of his opponents agree. When it comes to defending Iverson, says Cleveland Cavaliers guard Bob Sura, "I'd rather have my teeth pulled, because at least there aren't 20,000 people watching. He's the best player in the league right now." Iverson's improvement on defense has been less obvious but no less significant. At week's end he ranked fourth in the league with an average of 2.47 steals and his increased hustle had helped Philly hold opponents to 84.9 points a game, fourth lowest in the NBA. In a 102-86 win over the Bulls in Philadelphia on March 3, Iverson scored on a three-point play, then immediately picked off a pass and scored again. On Chicago's next trip down, he fought through a pick by 270-pound Andrew Lang to cut off Randy Brown. That was an effort he might not have bothered to make in his first two seasons. "When you look at what he's doing, both offensively and defensively, it's amazing," says Boston Celtics coach Rick Pitino. "If he ever gets the Michael Jordan thing—the hatred of losing—he'll be unstoppable. He's a one-man wrecking crew." Now that Jordan only comes to NBA arenas to sit courtside with movie stars, Iverson ranks as the backcourt scorer most able to create his own shot at will. But the similarities between the Answer and His Air-ness go deeper than that. Early in his career Jordan was the target of the same criticisms that have been leveled at Iverson: He was supposed to be too much of an individualist, a mind-boggling talent who did little to make his teammates better. But Jordan learned, just as Iverson is now learning, how to pick his spots, how to use his abilities to enhance his teammates', not stifle them. Which is not to say that Iverson necessarily has six NBA championships in his future, only that the frightening possibility exists that like Jordan at the same stage, he has shown just a glimmer of the player he will one day be. Says Iverson's backcourt mate, Eric Snow, "He's only scratched the surface." Larry Brown, who took over the Sixers last season, could be for Iverson what Phil Jackson was for Jordan, the coach who helps him to channel his talent. Brown's decision to shift Iverson from point guard to shooting guard on offense—he still usually plays defense against point guards and spells Snow for 10 minutes a game—may be remembered as the most significant crossover move of Iverson's career. Instead of having to distribute the ball and get his teammates involved, he can concentrate on the strongest part of his game: scoring. "It's a lot easier playing the two," Iverson says. "I give Coach Brown a lot of credit for not just deciding that I was going to be a certain type of point guard no matter what. He found a way that puts me in the position to do what I do best and to help the team the most." Brown began to think of Iverson as a potential shooting guard last season after the 76ers' acquired Snow in a January trade with the Seattle SuperSonics for a conditional second-round draft pick. When Snow manned the point, Iverson moved to off-guard, and Brown liked what he saw enough to give the alignment a longer look at the start of this season. Any hesitancy on Iverson's part was quickly erased by Snow. "It's not like Allen failed at point guard," he says. "I think he was just being asked to do things at the point that he had never been asked to do before. I told him that he could go back to doing the things that made him a great player in the first place." Iverson's willingness to go along with Brown's experiment was significant, since both men readily admit that their relationship was rocky before this season. Brown, a former point guard who is known for being demanding of his playmakers, had blasted Iverson's shot selection, his defense and his commitment, saying that "the company Allen's with is Reebok," not the Sixers. Iverson made it clear that he didn't appreciate those remarks, and he implied last year that his relationship with Brown might keep him from extending his contract with Philadelphia. But Iverson did sign a six-year, $70.9 million extension in January, partly because even though he and Brown still have their scraps, each genuinely respects the other's talent. "When we get him the ball in the open court, he's scary," says Brown. "When I first got him, I couldn't tell him anything. He went crazy on the court. Now he'll listen a little bit. With great players, you've got to be real careful not to take anything away from them. I don't want to take Allen's gifts away. Sometimes you have to sit with both hands on the chair and let him go."
|
Stories
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|