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A legend, just ask, holds on to dream
© St. Petersburg Times, published December 26, 2000 TAMPA -- Chances are, you've never heard of him. That's okay. You probably don't know much about his team, either. And that's fine, too. Fact is, he's from New York, but nobody there knows John Strickland, either. And frankly, he wouldn't have it any other way. We don't know Strick because, as a forward for the Tampa Bay ThunderDawgs, he's one of the many unknown players who make up the American Basketball Association 2000, which debuts tonight. In New York, they know Strick by a different name. The Franchise. Strick is a New York playground legend, a trash-talking, in-your-face basketball gunslinger. And the first mandate of a playground legend is getting a nickname. The funkier, the better. The second mandate is being absolutely convinced you're going to play pro ball. And that's where guys like Strick sometimes dribble off their foot. You see, the playground game doesn't always translate to the league. Street ball is a poetic and abstract sport that needs to be uninhibited to flourish. It demands only one thing: that you thrill. The NBA requires more. It asks for discipline, responsibility and ethics. It has rules, and it demands they be followed. But not all lions can live in a cage. Some need to run free, to allow their individuality and creativity to go where it may. Strick is a classic example. He played college ball at Hawaii-Pacific, where he was a two-time All-America and set several school records. But in essence, he never left the Bronx. If he's not trash talking, he's not really playing. If the situation calls for diplomacy and restraint, he's out of luck. He got a shot in the NBA once. Played for his hometown Knicks. But you know what happened? He missed practiced once and was released a month into the 1996 season. "It's just the structure. Some guys you just can't put in a system," he said. "I need some freedom to do my verbal thing." He has been trying to get back in the league ever since, playing anywhere and everywhere to prove he belongs. From Venezuela to Italy to the Dominican Republic and back again. From the USBL to the IBL to ABA 2000. "I know I can do it, man. I play with Mase and Oak and C-Webb and those guys every summer, and I hold my own," he said, referring to NBA veterans Anthony Mason, Charles Oakley and Chris Webber. "They even tell me I belong in the league. But it's so political, you know? Maybe it's the way I'm walking. I don't know what it is." This is why the marriage works, why ABA 2000 is made for guys like Strick and vice versa. This league is about stories: some tragic, some uplifting. Stories about guys like ThunderDawgs forward Innocent Kere, a West African who speaks six languages, studied in France, lost two younger brothers to disease and hasn't seen his family in Africa in more than two years. And Kere's teammate Lonnie Harrell, who has yet to become an NBA star but acts like one, starting a foundation to help inner-city kids and soliciting the aid of his close NBA buddies Allen Iverson, Vince Carter and Kevin Garnett. At its core, the league is about love, the unadorned passion for the game that gets smudged by greed in the NBA. These guys aren't playing for the money because there isn't any -- at least nothing like the loot handed out in the NBA. Nobody in this league is pulling down six figures. It's strictly about basketball. What a concept, huh? "I don't know what I'd be doing if I weren't playing ball," Strick said, grinning mischievously. "I'd probably be in the streets doing something wild." The battle for Strick now is no longer about only desire and opportunity, but also time. The Franchise is 28. Soon, age is going to reach in and steal some of his gifts, leaving him less equipped to back up all the trash talking he so loves. "I'm just going to keep on doing it. If it don't happen, it don't happen," he said. "I'm going to get in some kind of way. I tried the front door, so maybe I'll try to sneak through the back door this time." If there's a time when we should believe in guys like Strick, it's now, when the spirit of the holiday season is all around us. That's what the season is all about, believing in all sorts of seemingly illogical things. In Santa. In flying reindeer. And in legends.
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