From rock star to rock-solid: thanks to injuries and unmet expectations, Vince Carter no longer creates a stir at every stop. But he's healthier, wiser and determined to return the Raptors to the playoffs

Sporting News, The, Jan 19, 2004 by Sean Deveney

Much has changed. Nearly four years ago, when the Raptors traveled to Boston for a run-of-the-mill regular-season game, dozens of fans awaited the team's arrival at its downtown hotel. Never mind that it was early March, with the temperature in the teens. Never mind that it was around 3 a.m. Folks were willing to risk frostbite and bags under the eyes for a glimpse, a photo or maybe an autograph from the NBA's fastest-rising superstar, Vince Carter.

Back then, just two weeks had passed since All-Star weekend in Oakland, where Carter's through-the-legs, windmill, 360-degree performance in the slam-dunk contest electrified the NBA and the sports world in general. Vinsanity, the nickname for the combination of Carter's spectacular talent and enormous popularity, was at its peak. Lakers center Shaquille O'Neal dubbed Carter his favorite player. 76ers guard Allen Iverson said he was honored to have thrown an alley-oop to Carter: "That's something that I want to share with my kids when they get older, that in my first All-Star Game I got a chance to throw a lob to Vinsanity." The event was both a blessing and a curse for Carter--it stamped him with stardom and, at the same time, burdened him with the mantle of torchbearer for the NBA in the new century. But when you've just come off an airplane a few hours before sunrise and there are fans staking out your hotel, it's hard to think about big concepts such as stardom and torchbearing. All you really think is, "What are all these people doing here, anyway?"

That was Carter's reality. He drew people, in all places, at all hours. Before the 2000-01 season, the organization even considered adding extra security when the team went on the road. "Fans would line up outside the team's hotel in the early hours of the morning wherever we checked in," says veteran Raptors play-by-play man Chuck Swirsky. "Didn't matter whether it was Milwaukee or Houston or wherever. It was like a rock star."

Now, four years later, the aura of possibilities that surrounded Carter after the 2000 All-Star weekend has faded--injuries to both knees, an ankle injury, some public blunders and varying levels of tentativeness in his game have worn down his image. He stands in front of his locker at the Air Canada Centre while, outside the visiting locker room, the league's rock star du jour, Cavaliers rookie LeBron James, is being barraged by questions. Carter says he does not know James that well; he barely has spoken with him. "My advice to him would be to keep his head and enjoy it and think before you act," Carter says. "That's the best advice I can give any rookie, whether they are in the spotlight or not. Eventually, the spotlight is going to go away, and you still have to carry yourself the right way."

Carter's spotlight has, largely, gone away. That's fine with him. Still at his locker, he's showing off a slight bruise on his forearm suffered on a cherry-picked windmill dunk at the end of the game, his only dunk of the night. In fact, it was Carter's only successful drive to the basket. He shrugs off the bruise, saying, "I think I dunked it too hard. But, it was worth it, the fans liked it. Personally, I don't really care about dunking that much." Strange, because Carter made his fame (not to mention $30 million from Nike, thanks to a contract signed in September 2000) by shaking rims with his sudden, strong and skillful finishes on leaps into the lane. Dunks defined Carter. While in college at North Carolina, Carter kept a written log of players he had dunked on, and in his first few years in the NBA, he committed the same log to memory. That was the Carter who dominated the 2000 All-Star Game, who led the Raptors to consecutive playoff appearances and nearly put the team into the East finals in 2001--incredibly athletic, confident, nearly cocky, bemused with the power of the dunk. That was rock star Vince.

Indeed, much has changed, thanks to a combination of maturity and injuries (Carter missed 61 games the past two seasons with injuries). Carter turns 27 this month and is engaged to be married, to a doctor. Cleveland coach Paul Silas, when considering Carter, starts with a blessedly vague summary: "Well, Vince is Vince." Thanks, Coach. But what, exactly, is Vince now?

"Vince Carter is a great talent, and I think he's really maturing into a great player as well" says Pistons president Joe Dumars. "Whatever criticism he's gotten in his career so far is because people see so much potential to dominate this game"

The stats don't necessarily reflect it, but Carter is trying to become a better player now than he was four years ago by being a different player. It's a milder, tamer version of Carter, a player who emphasizes the sanity in "Vinsanity" a guy who, frankly, sees a dunk as little more than two points and some added entertainment for fans. Carter has value to his team, he understands, when he is making intelligent decisions, when he is prepared to carry the team in the fourth quarter, when he is spending as much time getting his teammates involved and playing defense as he does sniffing out highlight plays.