There are still questions for The Answer

Sporting News, The, March 27, 2000 by Dave D'Alessandro

I never actually thought J.R. Rider could teach anyone a lesson--other than how to model a defiant countenance and just the right headwear while you are flushing your career down the sewer--but Allen Iverson could actually learn something from J.R.

This lesson has been repeated so often that it has come to be an immutable NBA truth: Your most talented player also must be your most responsible player, your most consistent player and your most dedicated player if your team is ever going to achieve its full potential.

Clearly, this leader-by-example concept is still hard for Iverson to fathom, judging by the events of last week. Specifically, the Sixers' pocket rocket couldn't understand why he couldn't get all beered up the night before the biggest game of the season and then sleep off his hangover while his team went through the morning shootaround in Miami.

Seems we've gone down this road before. It isn't the first time Iverson has shown a depraved indifference toward responsibility, and sadly, it may not be the last. That would be a terrible shame, though, because the growth of a team is a fragile process, and its performance isn't exactly enhanced by the suspension of its best player.

But, as Sixers coach Larry Brown put it, "It just got to the point where it had to be done. It's my fault. I let too much go. It's got to stop. I'm just sick, (but) I have a responsibility to everybody on the team."

I'll say it again: Iverson never will have a better coach than Brown, and Brown never will have a better player. It would be such a waste if the two can't admit that to each other. You wonder whether this latest incident stirs the wanderlust in Brown's breast again because he was never one to stick around long enough for the heartbreak that now seems pending. You also wonder whether there's any one thing to prevent a divorce.

Actually, there are 11 things, and they are called teammates. Peer pressure is a powerful thing, and it's too bad Eric Snow or George Lynch, the real leaders on that team, couldn't grab Iverson by the lapels before he decided to serve as host to a party March 15 in South Beach. Funny, but the only remarks we've seen so far about the entire affair came from Alonzo Mourning, which is somehow predictable.

'Zo, of course, is one of the most dedicated pros around, the kind of fellow who thinks about today's game, tomorrow's practice and can't be bothered with much else. He gave the usual spiel about how his fellow Hoya is really a nice kid, and that when "the right people are around him, guys that will influence him to make better decisions, he's a totally different person. But I don't think he has the right people around him."

Mourning also said, "At his age (24), and with the people he surrounds himself with, he makes poor decisions and they influence him to make poor decisions. It's good to have your loyalty to your people, but at the same time, you've got to separate the two. You've got your job, and you've got your leisure time. You can't bring the two together at all."

Again, I've heard all this before--three or four times, in fact. What I haven't heard is whether Iverson can honor the separation. Is that likely to happen anytime soon? Mourning gave what sounded like a grim prediction.

"I know it's all about maturity and experience, but at the same time I know that he's been taught better than that," he said. "He was taught by John Thompson. He doesn't even want to hear what Coach has to say about an incident like this. He will avoid trying to hear what Coach has to say, because we all know that, based on our experiences, our lifestyles, we're going to make mistakes. But when mistakes have compiled to more and more mistakes, eventually you've got to stop, sit back and ask yourself, `What am I doing? Not just to myself, but to my teammates?'"

Does Iverson think his 29 points a night is all he owes his team? I wonder about that.

When Iverson plays, his spirit absolutely fills the place. He is one of the very, very few little men who can dominate the sport. Many have come to terms with it, many have risen to its challenges, many more have been swamped by it.

Like Rider: Regardless of where he turns up next year, he never will be the player he should be because he never fully understood the responsibility that goes with stardom. He has the talents of a star, but he plays stupidly and, by all accounts, lives his life the same way.

You wonder what Iverson thinks of a guy like Rider, whether he thinks he's as misunderstood as he portrays himself. Like Rider, Iverson has some bad nights, but unlike Rider, he doesn't lose control on the court so often. ].R. is beyond redemption--suffice to say, if he were any thicker, we could tie the Titanic to him. He has authored the most convincing cautionary tale for players with cockeyed priorities in this decade.

How different is Iverson? Does he have a greater respect for the game, for the team culture? You want to think he does. Unlike Rider, he shows it virtually every time he plays. At times, Iverson is a willing slave of the arena, seizing the moment, catching the wave of emotion like a surfer. At times, you see that he senses the privilege the game has granted him, and he revels in its moments.