Welcome Back

We're now a month into the 2009-10 NBA season; seems like just yesterday we were plotting fantasy drafts and being teased by preseason action. Close to a quarter of the games have been played already and most of the cobwebs have been knocked off; any benefit of the doubt we could give teams and players for early season adjustments is waning: it's time for the gloves to come off...

- As I've grown uncomfortably used to doing, I'll start this one off with the Toronto Raptors; the team that every Canadian loves to hate, and who keeps giving them every reason to. They took cap space and several intriguing trade pieces into an offseason that demanded big moves. One would've hoped they were bent on addressing their glaring need for toughness size and general defensive competency. Instead they over-paid Hedo Turkoglu, a redundant talent who I spent the whole summer denying would vault the Raps into the East's upper tier. While Turkoglu has played acceptably and helped ignite a high-octane offense, his presence does little to change the fact that nobody on this team can play a lick of defense. While Reggie Evans' abesence hasn't helped (former league leader in rebs/48. Don't sleep.), that this team's under .500 and the Eastern playoff border, giving up 116 to the Bobcats, with Chris Bosh playing the best ball of his career, is unacceptable. Bryan, I know you're a smart businessman and shrewd basketball mind, otherwise you wouldn't have the job you do, but your squad in Phoenix hit its ceiling before the Finals, and they were infinitely more talented than the Raptors, so why are you trying to do the same thing here?

- Another East team that's looking a little shaky are (gulp) Lebron 'n Friends. I've held my tongue enough on the topic: Mike Brown is to offensive coordination what Lindsay Lohan is to sober driving. I hate calling out the guy at the helm of my favorite squad, but c'mon man, you house an enviable stable: a legit post threat who can outmuscle almost anyone in the L and a 7'3" giant with a smooth mid-range stroke who beasts the offensive glass and keeps big men honest 5 or 18 feet from the hoop. They're surrounded by a bunch of lethal shooters who can punish most collapsed defenses, and although one of your energetic forwards is a weak finisher with a tendency to do too much, this is generously offset by the other one being arguably the most dynamic offensive talent ever to play basketball. Surely when the Cavs are down against the Wizards and Bobcats they can resort to better looks than Lebron isolating a helpless defender atop the key and firing a 20-foot-fadeaway while four guys gather dust around him.

- The Nets finally did what had been speculated for over a year and canned Lawrence Frank after their humiliating 0-16 start. Frank becomes the latest in a mile-long line of Eastern Conference coaches who were shipped to the slaughterhouse by rebuilding teams with maligned rosters that any coach would struggle to squeeze wins out of. Especially with Devin Harris injured, this team was painfully inferior to any opposition, and instead of having faith in a man who coached their team well when they didn't toally suck, New Jersey's new owners can now shell out a couple more millions for a guy who MIGHT do a better job.

- It's not all bad though; the Suns shed a couple pounds over the offseason and, now more tailored to Alvin Gentry's run-and-gun, seem to be back to their old selves. They've got Amare back and surrounded him with a lethal long-range arsenal while Steve Nash Bridges continues to defy father time's will with another MVP-ish season. Channing Frye might be the perfect center for what the Suns are trying to do, Grant Hill's doing his best to channel his pre-2000 self and J-Rich has been lights out; if this team can keep up their high-octane act, they'll be a team nobody will want to face in the postseason. Regardless, League Pass owners everywhere are thankful.

- While alleged Clippers savior Blake Griffin (I say that not doubting his ability but aware of just how much it'll take to rescue a franchise as historically fucked-up as the Clippers) has yet to see the court, one of the draft's biggest question marks has silenced any doubters with his unreal play. Many questioned Brandon Jennings' unprecedented decision to spend his mandated year out of high school overseas; a loophole that the NBA overlooked when it banned prep-to-pro draftees a few years back. Brandon decided to get his; getting paid lots of money to play in a league that would test his endurance and talent more than the NCAA, and broaden his horizons in a distant country. So far, few would question his decision, but the success of his groundbreaking moveis no doubt going to usher in a new wave of college-ducking prep stars like Kevin Garnett did in '95. Some will flourish, others will fail, and before long the League will intervene to protect its teams from Rubio-esque contract wars. While we can, let's appreciate the beauty of Brandon Jennings' independence (dude drops 55 in a comeback win a week into his rookie season?), and wish Jeremy Tyler the same luck.

- So who's looking the best out of the gate? The prohibitive favorites have been getting mixed results: Boston's looking very thorough with KG's role rescinded and Big Baby in streets; their goal is sustainability, but a healthy season might also mean a #1 seed the way they're playing. The Magic and Cavs have both looked lost while losing some very winnable games, and the Spurs have been equal parts hurt and surprisingly flat. The Nuggets are playing even more legit than last year; Melo's inner superstar seems to have finally conquered his inner 4-year-old and he's scoring at will. This may be the season he demands inclusion among Wade and Lebron as the league's best, and the deep playoff run Denver's capable of won't hurt his cause. If we're talking a favorite though, nobody's stepped up enough to steal that status from the Lakeshow. Kobe's been unreal in helping maintain LA's championship swag with Pau on the bench and their bench on the wrong side of mediocre. With Gasol back and showing no ill effects, Bynum finally beasting like he's capable of, and question mark Ron Artest being more of a comma than an exclamation point, they can now look to truly hit their stride and rule the West again.

...So What's the Answer Now?

We're talking about practice.

And not in a "I'm above this" sense, but that practice, ironically, is all Allen Iverson can do right now.

The basketball community was dealt a huge blow yesterday when one of the most popular, influential, controversial and best players of our generation, apparently left with no other options, announced his retirement. Just two years ago, he was one of the league's most prolific scorers and a perennial All-Star, but an ill-advised Joe Dumars acquisition left AI in a worst-case scenario; on a Pistons squad that had built its reputation on selflessness and team play, concepts which came to Iverson like weight loss to Glenn Robinson. He complained, resisted, called out management and spent the latter half of his tenure in Detroit on the bench with an injury he would have fought through at any other juncture in his career. His expiring contract gave him a much needed out this past July, but his value had sunk to such depths that few teams came knocking this past summer, offering him a backup role and a fraction of his accustomed salary. That he wound up in a Memphis Grizzlies uniform was telling of just how far Iverson had fallen, and laid an obvious foundation for disaster.

Everyone with half a brain knew that this situation would unravel, but even the most shrewd sceptic couldn't have seen it coming this fast. Three games into the season, Iverson's reserve role ate away so much at his pride that he forced a parting of ways with the Grizz and became a free agent. Several teams were mentioned as poential destinations but the reluctance to sign AI over the summer was only magnified by his too-brief-to-call-tumultuous time in Memphis. He thought he could contribute to a winning team, but none of them wanted him. Fuck, the Knicks didn't want him. So, painted into a corner by his own pretentiousness, Allen Iverson was forced to walk away from the NBA.

It's a tragic tale Iverson's told. Despite his incredible speed, ankle-shattering handle, smooth stroke, fearless aggression, stoic toughness, MVP award, plethora of All-Everything commendations and celebrated status as the hero of hoops-hop culture, he's never been what every basketball player wants to be: a winner. His early years in Philly were like the snobby chick at the bar turning away every guy in sight: Keith Van Horn, Derrick Coleman, Jerry Stackhouse, all failed as second fiddles while the 76ers never amounted to much. As the Leastern Conference succumbed to mediocrity, Iverson was gradually surrounded by defensive-minded players who were scoring-challenged enough to justify his 120 shots/game. Dikembe Mutombo, Aaron Mckie and Tyrone Hill weren't demanding touches, just working the glass, moving the ball and locking down the opposition; it suited The Answer just fine. As such, the 76ers were able to become worst pre-Cavs team to win the East title, and in the playoff pinnacle of Iverson's career, were bitch-slapped by the Lakers in the Finals.

So close and yet so far away, he's been trying in vain to get back there ever since. As talented a player as he was, Allen never figured out that players can win games but championships need to be won by a team. His trip to the finals was anomalous; the 76ers were perennial doormats because players who were talented enough to win titles didn't fit on teams where one player insisted on dominating the ball so much. Even when he was paired with a bonafide superstar for the first time in his career, he failed to turn the Nuggets into anything special. For all his other-worldly talent, he was never one of those transcendant players, a guy like, oh...let's say...at random... Chauncey Billups, who could put his ego behind the good of the team and create a positive impact even if he didn't get his. For years teams feared him, but now off the court, they still do.

From Allen Iverson's tone and words yesterday, you can tell how reluctantly he's doing this. The man clearly has some great basketball left in that tiny but explosive body, and for the sake of him and his legions of fans I hope we get to see it. As fitting and humbling as it is that a career marred by a me-first attitude is ending this way, anyone who loves and has influenced the game of basketball as much as AI deserves better. Only history will tell whether he's remembered as the game's greatest pound-for-pound scorer ever or a childish diva, but if there's anything left of the competitive inferno that used to fuel Iverson, this won't be the last we hear from him. He's still got time to salvage his career before his injury-ravaged body finally gives out; maybe a team will come calling.

Until then Allen, we're talking about practice. It can't hurt you now.