Poor Larry Brown.
If a guy with a $30 million contract can manage to look like a pitiable schlep, this is your man–head coach and VP of operations for the Philadelphia 76ers, school principal and wet nurse to Allen Iverson.
And this week, the most readily available example of enabler to today’s dysfunctional professional athlete.
Brown, after the Sixers were bounced out of the first round of the NBA playoffs with a 33-point loss to the Celtics, made the mistake of acting, well, a little annoyed.
His star player, you see, failed to show up the following day for an end-of-season meeting required for everyone on the team. After winning the NBA’s MVP award, leading the Sixers to the NBA Finals and resembling a team player last year, Iverson completed yet another season in which he reverted to resident brat, once again treating Brown’s authority with all the respect accorded your average sweat rag.
“The issue I have is all the things that he’s in control over, and that has to change,” Brown said. “He’ll have a problem with me if that doesn’t change. Your key player has to be there. He has to be practicing, he has to set the example, and he knows that. If he’s willing to do that, he’ll be a Sixer for life.
“That’s what everybody’s expected to do. I hope our league’s not about just showing up and playing and giving your best, and I think he can do that. . . . The clock’s ticking.”
That last comment sounded suspiciously like an ultimatum, and so Iverson became annoyed back. So annoyed that those present for his news conference a few days later said he was close to tears as he sputtered about how tired he was, how hurt and how frustrated he was, that this was–get ready–ruining his summer vacation.
“Everybody on my team . . . is enjoying their summers, enjoying it,” Iverson ranted. “But look at me. Look at what I’m going through. It’s summertime. I’m supposed to be with my kids and my wife chilling. . . .
“Why not just [trade me] instead of character-assassinating me?”
Iverson was offended that as “the best player in the world,” not to mention a player with a six-year, $70.9 million contract, he would have to go through this sort of thing with his motivation questioned and trade talk broached. In other words, how dare anyone hold him accountable for his actions?
None of this is new, of course. In the five years Brown and his point guard have been together, this sort of repartee has become routine. What also has been standard is Brown’s inevitable conclusion that he must figure out a way to get through to Iverson.
And so it went this week as Brown, after hearing of Iverson’s comments in his news conference, repeatedly referred to Iverson as a “young kid.”
As in: “It seems to me this was a young kid reaching out for help.”
And: “You just saw a young kid reacting.”
And: “I do know I have a young kid on my hands who’s looking for direction, who has a big heart and cares about the right things. I have to figure out a way to help him.”
Psst, Larry: On June 7, Iverson will turn 27.
One day shortly after Brown arrived in Philadelphia, he made an excuse for one of Iverson’s transgressions, telling one of the other players that the kid, meaning Iverson, had a pretty tough childhood. Responded the player, “Well, 12 guys in that locker room could probably say the same thing.”
Brown seemed to get the message and at least tried to hold Iverson to the same standards as every other adult he coached. It seldom worked.
Over the years, Iverson lit into Brown when he was removed from games. At one point late in the 1998-99 season, team sources told reporters Iverson had been late to approximately 50 practices, not to mention those he simply skipped, and constantly missed weight-training sessions, often hiding in the bathroom with a bag of tacos.
Once, during the 1999-2000 playoffs, after Brown instituted a rule requiring his players to wear suits and ties, Iverson walked into the locker room in a designer ensemble.
“See how good you look?” Brown said.
Iverson, Sports Illustrated reported, then took off the suit and left it in a ball on the floor.
Two years later, it appears, Iverson remains the petulant child and Brown the ineffectual, indulgent parent searching for answers. Still, barring a trade, there are always options.
With Iverson’s birthday approaching, Brown always can threaten not to get him that pony he promised. Maybe then the kid will get the message.
