Vibe.com, February 15th, 2006
It's now 7 p.m. at Philadelphia's Wachovia Center, and Allen Iverson is in game mode. He leaps from head trainer Kevin Johnson’s table and trots past a gaggle of reporters who’ve been waiting for him for more than two hours now.
His Answer IX’s are untied, his warm-up bottoms unsnapped and dragging on the floor, his signature shooting sleeve (which covers some of his numerous tats) is pulled snug, and his headband dangles from his left hand.
A documentary film crew sits in the next room waiting on him. They want to tell his life story; the reporters want to dig deeper into it. Iverson wants nothing to do with either. At least, not right now.
“Man, I got a game to play,” he says. It’s
just 30 minutes before tip-off.
The game he plays is only a part of who he’s become. On his shoulders - along with the nightly weight of the 76ers franchise - are the aspirations and promise of a generation. His life has become all about vicariously representing the slaves inside the rhythmless nation. As Ossie Davis said about Malcolm X, Iverson has become “our own shining black prince” in a warm-up.
When the game is done, he’ll have scored 37 points and dished 12 assists. The Sixers will have lost. And the weight on his shoulders
just keeps getting heavier.
To Read The Rest of This Story, Get This Issue At Your Local Newsstand Now! Do you want VIBE delivered to your home or office? CLICK HERE.
