So I got invited to see "Michael Jordan to the Max" the other day. This is
the 45-minute Jordan lovefest that is shown on the huge, three-story IMAX
screens at places like the Smithsonian Institution in Washington.
(Technically, the screening was at the Air and Space Museum. Air? Get it?)
|  | | Ewing's desire to play through pain earns him Aldridge's respect. |
The film, if you care, is a fairly benign retelling of the Jordan
Legend, about his being cut from high school, going to Carolina, struggling
at first with the Bulls, ultimately triumphing, leaving in the middle of his
career to play baseball, coming back and threepeating for a second time.
You know all that.
But it's a different look on the three-story high IMAX screen.
The structure of the story is Jordan's final postseason trip. You know
what's going to happen. The Bulls are going to beat the Nets, Hawks, Pacers
and, finally, the Jazz for their sixth title. But the pictures are
breathtaking in the retelling.
Watch New Jersey's Kendall Gill, at the apex of his jump ... and still a
couple of inches short of blocking Jordan's fadeaway. Watch Jeff Hornacek's
face, straining with the effort of trying to keep Jordan out of the paint.
The best shot is a three-camera montage -- front, back and side running
simultaneously -- of Jordan's key steal of Karl Malone, which led to the
game-winning shot with which we've all become familiar.
I say all this not to get you to watch the movie -- I don't care if you
do or don't. But the film reminded me of a fundamental truth that I tend to
forget sometimes.
God, I love pro basketball. And there's nothing better in life than the
playoffs.
Think about the Pacers, and how long Reggie Miller, Mark Jackson, Rik
Smits, Dale Davis and Chris Mullin have been at this. They've been in the
Eastern Conference finals five of the last six years, this close to the
promised land. How many practices? How many suicide drills? How much ice?
Same with Utah, with Malone and Stockton and Hornacek -- and Sloan. They've
been in this together now for more than a decade, going out with no flair,
no hops, no tats, no excuses, just their brains and their toughness, looking
for a title.
Think about Alonzo Mourning, sized as a power forward, going into the
paint with bigger men every night, because it's the only way he can get a
ring.
Think about Shaq and Kobe, who know their time is close.
Think about the Bucks and Kings, who know now that they're onto
something.
Think about Gary Payton and Kevin Garnett and Jason Kidd, great players
on good teams. But not great teams. Think about their frustrations, knowing
that their teams, their teammates, their friends, aren't quite good enough
to win it all.
Think about Patrick Ewing. Whatever you think of him as a player -- or a
labor negotiator -- he is a proud warrior 15 years in the searching for a
championship. The other day he sat on the bench with ice on his knees, ice
on his elbow and wrapped like a meatloaf because of the back spasms that
have come up.
Think about Allen Iverson, with at least four injuries on his 165-pound
frame. Shoulder, elbow, ankle, toe. He suits up every night.
"Right when I wake up it hurts the most," he said. "A lot of time
that's the reason for me waking up, you know, I have problems with it late
at night. It's just bothering me man, big time, I just can't wait for
everything to be over just so I can rest."
But everybody's got injuries this time of year. Remember the look on
Magic's face when he pulled up lame in the '89 Finals? Or Larry Bird, with a
back so bad at the end of his career that he couldn't sit on the bench?
"They really bother you before the game, or on off days," Bird
recalled. "But once the game starts, you get your adrenaline flowing and a
lot of the pain goes away. I'm not saying all of it. But a lot of it does."
All of it is on display in the postseason. You go through 82 games of
sometimes indifferent play, and all the travel, and all the occasional
strange dictates from the league office, so you can get to this point. To
watch this display of intelligence and character and endurance.
The journey, not the result, is the reward.
Tattoo you
Kudos to Rick Telander of the Chicago Sun-Times and ESPN the Magazine
for continuing to pursue the question of who in the league office doctored
photos of Iverson to change his hairstyle and erase the tattoos on his arms
and neck. I reported on this in December and could never get a straight
answer out of the league office. The doctored photos were used on the covers
of league publications. I guess Iverson's cornrows and body art were deemed
too sinister for the league's paying customers.
How pathetic. How transparently racist.
Iverson couldn't believe it when I showed him one of the league
magazines with his doctored image on it. Whoever changed his appearance, I
guess, didn't care that many of the tattoos are messages or tributes to his
family. Maybe they didn't want you to know he had one. He does. Among them
is his son, Allen Iverson II, who is known as "Deuce." And the infant has
done what a thousand scolds and the occasional brush with the law failed to
do.
"I know that a lot of kids out here wanna be like me for whatever
reason," Iverson told me. "Maybe it's because the way I play, or the way I
look, the way I dress, the way I act, but I know that that kid wants to be
me or he wants to be just like me and that's a great feeling. That's a great
feeling you know, because I never really wanted to be like my dad, I wanted
to be tough like him, I wanted to be as hard as he is, but, I never like
just wanted to be him. And just to see this little guy wanna be exactly like
me is just amazing. It's something that I'll cherish for the rest of my
life...
"He wants to be like Dad and not Allen Iverson, he wants to be like Dad.
'Cause he don't know Allen Iverson. He don't know Allen Iverson like other
little kids. Other little kids only know Allen Iverson. Deuce knows dad."
Most people aren't caricatures. Most people have shortcomings and faults
and hopes and dreams and make mistakes. Most people learn from those
mistakes and show their character. You can't airbrush that away. Though you
may try.
Around The League
Word heating up that Glenn Robinson will be very available around July
1. Nothing against the Big Dog, but the Bucks are really high on Tim Thomas
and, despite good play from Ervin Johnson in the paint, Milwaukee could use
some low-post defensive help. Dog's very reasonable contract ($8.1 million
next season; $8.9 million the following season) makes him very attractive to
teams looking for a big-time scorer. Keep one thing in mind, though:
Robinson has never beefed about playing in small-market Milwaukee, and those
reasonable numbers are just as attractive to the Bucks as they enter the
escrow years.
John Lucas' name has
come up for the Clippers' head coaching vacancy. While Darrell Walker waits
to see what Jordan will do, he might get an interview on the left coast as
well. Bucks assistant Terry Stotts might also chat with the Mavs about their
job. Don't be surprised if Bob Huggins' name comes up down there as well.
Pacers say they're contractually obligated not to talk with Bird about
his future until after the season. And if you believe that, I'll tell you
another. In the meantime, Bird sure sounds like a GM. He was asked by a
reporter if the Pacers could pull off rebuilding while still contending for
a title.
Bird said yes, adding, "I just feel that anytime you go out in free
agency, or anytime you go into the draft, you've got to get players that can
play multiple positions. Jalen Rose is the best thing to have on your team.
He plays three positions. So when you look to build a team or go out to try
to pick up a free agent, you just can't pick up a point guard that can just
play one position. You've got to be able to play a couple of positions."
Good thing Bird knows how valuable Rose is, and can be. Because the
Pistons sure know it. And Rose knows that the Pistons know.
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