Spat has no winner, but is fun to watch

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© St. Petersburg Times
published May 9, 2002

Pick a side. Either side.

Pick the side of Larry Brown, a darn good basketball coach. Gripe about spoiled superstars. Talk about the mantle of leadership. Preach about leading by example.

Pick the side of Allen Iverson, a darn good basketball player. Talk about looking for scapegoats. Grouse about the foolishness of a coach calling out a player in public. Shout about a player who plays the game with an uncommon fury.

Then call the lawyers and sign the papers.

It's time for a divorce.

After a while, it reaches a point where it doesn't matter who is right and who is wrong. All that matters is getting away from each other. Give Brown the couch and the car. Give Iverson the TV set and the minivan. They can share custody of Dikembe Mutombo.

It has come to this in Philadelphia, where the discord between Brown and Iverson has grown to such delicious, gossipy levels that the rest of the country can't wait for the next episode. This is better than the rest of the NBA players. This is better than Karl vs. Rivers, better than Shaq vs. Kobe, better than Duncan vs. Kidd. Throw in Susan Lucci and an amnesia victim, and we've got a hit soap opera.

Say this for the Sixers. They went quickly from the playoffs, but they didn't go quietly. To sum up: Brown pointed a finger, and Iverson lifted one. They were both right, to a point. They were both wrong, in a way. Make your choice. And stay tuned.

It's hard to disagree with Brown. He wants a better work ethic out of Iverson. He wants him to practice. He wants him to obey the rules. He wants him to lead. Who can quibble with that? What coach doesn't want that from his best player?

Wednesday, Brown added that Iverson won't be traded, and said he embraces the "challenge" of working with him.

But when you see Brown in front of the cameras, pointing out Iverson's deficiencies to the world, you have to wonder if the message is being delivered in the best way possible. What did Brown expect? That Iverson was going to watch the 6 o'clock news, have an epiphany, and call Brown to ask what time the gym opened?

Frankly, Brown has been around -- boy, has he been around -- long enough to know better. Yeah, yeah. Say what you want about coddling superstars, but it's a part of the job, and every pro coach who has ever endorsed a check knows it. Not to say Brown is old school, but his history book only goes through the 1600s.

Brown should have seen what was coming. Iverson's rambling, defiant, doesn't-get-it news conference on Tuesday evening. Did you catch it? If not, imagine that Ozzy Osbourne had played basketball.

For a half-hour, Iverson swore, defended, defied and snarled. Oh, and about 1,000 times, he mentioned the word "practice." It came out of his mouth sharp and loud, like a trained parrot.

Iverson simply could not believe that he had been called out -- "assassinated," he called it -- about practice. "We're talking about practice," Iverson said. "I'm supposed to be the franchise player, and we're talking about practice. Not a game -- we're talking about practice. How silly is that? Practice."

Iverson would have gone on, but he wanted to get home to see reruns of his favorite TV show. The Practice.

It was great theater. Iverson went on and on about how much he wanted to win but railed against the idea that he might be able to do a tad more to make it happen. He talked about being the greatest player in the world, then he groused about being singled out. He said he loved Larry Brown, but said they weren't as tight as he thought after this furor.

After a while, it was like watching a guy debate himself in the mirror. Iverson would say one thing, and a few minutes later, he would disagree with himself. It was a brilliant strategy, because everyone was going to agree with at least half of what he said.

Say this for Iverson. No one plays the game harder. With Iverson, you can get caught up in his tattoos and his followers and the rap album he once recorded. All of that is beside the point. Watch him play after a tipoff, and he plays with a respect for the game that is rare. He plays the 18th game of the season, and the 62nd, the same way he plays in the playoffs.

None of that means he doesn't have to work harder, however. None of that means there isn't a purpose to practice. Instead of complaining how his daughter hears other kids talking about her daddy getting traded, maybe Iverson should ponder what shortcomings other people see in his game. Maybe instead of talking so much, both Brown and Iverson should do a little listening.

What happens now?

More whining, we hope. Frankly, this is just getting good. I'd love to hear Brown talk about Iverson's musical acumen. I'd love Iverson to suggest that Suitcase Larry do a luggage commercial. Hey, have you seen television lately? What else are you gonna watch?

Eventually, they'll divorce. That's destined now. Neither one of these guys will quite look at the other in the same way and, eventually, one will have to go.

But for now, they'll reconcile. It's the wrong time of year for Brown to leave. The Sixers could trade Iverson, but they'd never get equal value. So they'll just struggle along. Until next time.

Then, it really gets personal. And nasty. And loud.

Speaking for the rest of us, we can't wait.

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