Empty the Bench

By Brian Spencer

Allen Iverson has been called many things over the years, but never a quitter. Even his most dogged critics knew better than to go there. Throughout his career, Iverson has been unanimously recognized as one of the toughest players on the floor, a 6-foot lightweight who played like a man 5 inches taller and 25 pounds heavier. You could knock him down–repeatedly–but he’d always get back up. His capacity to lead on and off the court was questioned, and many have claimed that his defensive liabilities and his need to dominate the ball to be effective outweighed his strengths. But never has his will to win been in doubt.

Now, however, even his reputation for leaving it all on the floor seems like a fable from long ago. Now, after whining his way out of a bad situation in Memphis that never should have happened in the first place, we’re all left wondering who, exactly, this Allen Iverson is and what this Allen Iverson wants.

What does he want out of all this? What’s his end goal?

If he simply wants to be in the starting lineup and be a focal point of the offense, regardless of the team, he should have shut up and stayed in Memphis. Even a guy notoriously allergic to trivial dalliances like practice and preseason exhibitions has to understand that he needs to take part in at least some team activities before being handed a starting job and 40+ minutes a night. Maybe he was never going to get that in Memphis with youngsters like Mike Conley Jr. and O.J. Mayo in the mix, but he’s not stupid: he knows he was strictly signed as a sideshow attraction that would hopefully sell a few more tickets.

If he had put his head down and played hard during the minutes he was given–and he averaged more than 22 per right off the bat in the three games he did suit up for–head coach Lionel Hollins would have eventually had no choice but to start him and play him heavy minutes as the losses mounted and attendance dwindled to a trickle. If Iverson wanted this season to be about Iverson, a little patience, coupled with the hard work and fearless spirit he was once know for having, would have gone a long way towards making that a reality.

But, no. He couldn’t tolerate coming off the bench for three whole games after missing the entire preseason with a hamstring problem, so he took the easy way out and quit on the one franchise that threw him a bone when everyone else viewed him as an ugly, unwanted mutt.

If Iverson wanted to spend his waning NBA days legitimately competing for the championship ring that’s eluded him for 13 years, he could have toned back his combative rhetoric and let it be known that he was a team player who wanted to be a productive part of a winning cause. We’ve seen countless All-Stars on the wrong side of 30 take this route: Ray Allen, Rasheed Wallace, hell, even Ron Artest (who turned 30 last week). Many felt that last year’s disappointing Detroit Pistons presented Iverson with a golden opportunity to embark on such a path, but we all know how that worked out and there’s no need to rehash it.

Piston players pinned the blame for their miserable season on desposed head coach Michael Curry, but he doesn’t deserve to be the only scapegoat. Iverson came to Detroit saying all the right things, but he left Detroit as a quitter who phoned in the most hollow performances of his career.

So he didn’t want to do what it took to win a championship in Detroit if it meant coming off the bench. And he didn’t put out the right message to the Boston Celtics, Cleveland Cavaliers, San Antonio Spurs, or Los Angeles Lakers of the world last summer when each was hunting for talented, veteran depth to add to their benches.

That pretty much exhausts the possibilities, right? He doesn’t want to earn a starting job, even if it’s there for the taking; he wants it gift-wrapped. He doesn’t want to come off the bench, be it for a bottom-feeder like the Memphis Grizzlies or a team entertaining championship hopes like last year’s Detroit Pistons did for a hot minute. He doesn’t want to sacrifice his pride and assume a supporting role… or, maybe he does, depending on his mood or the time of the day. Even God doesn’t know what to do with Iverson anymore.

If this is the end for Allen Iverson, it’s an entirely self-made one. He could have avoided this whole mess in Memphis and retired with his legacy still mostly intact and untarnished. He could have made headlines (and millions of dollars) in Europe and laughed at the NBA from across the Atlantic. He could have swallowed his bullshit pride and accepted a no-strings-attached role for a contender.

But he didn’t. AI has always done things his way, and he’s apparently going to keep doing them his way until the sad, bitter end. The ball is back where he’s always wanted it to be: in his court, in his hands. The difference is that now he might not have anywhere to go with it.