ESPN The Magazine's Tom Friend filed this take for ESPNMAG.com after he finished his cover story on Allen Iverson.

He's our height.

For that reason alone, you should embrace Allen Iverson. You loved Michael Jordan because of this, because he didn't tower too much over you, because he didn't shop at Mel's Big and Tall, because he was 6'4" and able to jump to 11'4". When he retired, you tried to adopt Shaq and Duncan, but you weren't tall enough to look them in the eye -- you had to look at them in the thigh.

But Allen Iverson, you can look at. You can look without craning your neck. You can look and see the "East End" tattoo on his skinny left leg, and you can look and see the swelling on his shooting elbow, and you can look and see yourself. In him.

I first interviewed Allen Iverson two years ago. I watched him make a sneaker commercial that day, and I'll never forget what I saw. He had noticed a basketball court next to the food tent, and it was one of those dilapidated blacktops, with no nets or chains on the rims, and he said, "Need a ball. Need a damn ball."

They handed him one, and Allen Iverson had a sudden bounce in his step, and two members of his posse went and tried to guard him on this crooked court. He was wearing Doc Martens, and the guys in his posse were about his size -- 6-foot or so -- and they were all hoisting warmup shots, and they shot better than him. And I couldn't help but think: How does this shrimp score 25 points a game in the NBA?

But I kept watching, and they began playing their game of 1-on-2, and little Allen Iverson won 11-2, shooting 11 layups. He was a blur to them, and to me, and I saw up close what the rest of the NBA sees, and you could see he was thoroughly enjoying himself, on a basket with no net, and he just had a certain innocence. It was clear to me right then that all Allen Iverson needs in life -- must have in life -- is a ball and a basket and a clear day.

It's his life away from basketball that can sour us on him. He's no innocent in the locker room or out on the street. I followed him and the 76ers for a piece I just wrote for the upcoming issue of ESPN The Magazine, and I saw some things. I saw him delay his post-game group interview one night until he found his do-rag. He dug through open boxes and taped boxes and I saw him become profane when he still couldn't find it. I saw him delay another post-game group interview until he put on his deodorant. "Well, I played without none," he said. "Keeps them mothers up off me on defense, man." I saw him delay the interview further to go brush his teeth. "You don't want to talk to someone with a stinking ol' mouth, do you?" he asked the group.

So the group just stood around waiting. I heard him talking to a teammate in the meantime, telling the teammate: "Always remember, man. Your most loyal friends are big chubby guys."?

Finally, I got him alone. I asked him if we could talk after practice the next day, and he said, "I ain't going to practice. Of course, he did go to practice -- he's actually been going to practice a lot lately -- and he did speak with me, and he was charming and honest and not that much taller than I am.

And I saw one more thing. I saw the team sitting in a San Francisco gym after practice, and they were all waiting for their bus to arrive, and I saw that Iverson could not stay still. The basketballs were all packed away, and everyone else was lounging around, but Allen Iverson just had to get up and shoot. So he balled up a pair of tube socks and shot. For 15 minutes.

Admit it. We've all done that.

Tom Friend is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail tom.friend@espnmag.com.