Allen Iverson is dead? Nope, but quality sportswriting is

Allen Iverson has averaged 27 ppg in his career, fifth all-time in the NBA. But apparently he’s “dead” like Tupac.

Sad news Thursday out of the OC about Anaheim Angels pitcher Nick Adenhart, who was killed along with two others by a suspected drunk driver early that morning.

We don’t tend to follow breaking news like this on The Bias, and usually prefer to rant and rave about non-serious stuff that isn’t so life-and-death, but figured I’d use this real-life note to lead in to a piece Fox Sports and Kansas City Star [Isn’t that a McClatchy paper? So I guess that means he’s living on borrowed time too there Patrick.] hack Jason Whitlock wrote about Allen Iverson.
Now, I’m not going to defend Iverson for all the crap he’s pulled in his career (recently and in the past), the off-the-court stuff and all of that, but I didn’t know the dude DIED. But I guess he did today, according to Whitlock.

If this reads like an obituary, that’s because it is.
Iverson’s career as an NBA legend died of self-inflicted wounds this season in Detroit. Much like the death of his role model, rapper Tupac Shakur, Iverson’s supporters will reject the news of his demise and predict a Machiavellian return, a Dr. J-like finish to Iverson’s career.
Picture me rolling on the floor laughing my ass off.

Hmmm. Wrong day to be writing that. In fact, I know I’m over sensitive when it comes to this kind of stuff, not to mention hip-hop, 2-pac, and brutal sports writing, but that’s why I opted never to make stupid obituary references, life-or-death analogies, or lame obituary leads while I was a sportswriter. Because, as I once wrote in a column about Pat Tillman, before he was eventually killed while “fighting for his country” on April 22, 2004:

There is one sports writing rule I’ve never broken and never will: comparing the games people play to war.

Until grenades begin exploding on the 50-yard line or missiles begin whizzing by the mound, warfare should never be used as a metaphor for a sporting event.

Not that I’m not claiming to be some great writer, I’m not even in newspapers anymore because I don’t have that passion (or is it stupidity?) to stick to this journalism game long enough to become a lead columnist for one of the Stars, or the Bees, or whatever disguise they’re using to cover up the “www.Dead-Tree-Medium.com” in the masthead.

But Adenhart’s story reminds us that sports aren’t life or death, or black and white, and just because athletes are a different shade, it doesn’t mean every motive is race related, although Whitlock can’t seem to write or fill in for Jim Rome unless he can make some outlandish remarks about one of the two. And while I commend him for bringing up race in our PC, don’t speak about race-relations culture, there’s ways to do it and ways not to. He just seems to pick the latter way too often.

If only I could just sit at home in my boxers and type up some stupid crap just to piss people off. Stuff like how Whitlock claims “The Answer was an underachiever on and off the court.”

Ummm. OK. Dude might have been ghetto off the court. Dude might have been ghetto on the court, too.

But he’s also been in the league for more than a dozen years. He’s also old and beat-up because he was what you would call a “soldier” when he played, and didn’t just settle for being some pansy perimeter player.

Dude’s 6-foot, 175 pounds. My size. I consider myself a decent baller, and I couldn’t even play JC ball.

AI’s playing in the freaking league, used to throw down on people in transition, was an MVP, and has averaged 27 ppg in his career when and only two players in NBA history ever averaged better than 30, Jordan and Wilt, so I think it’s safe to say he “overachieved” on the court at 6 foot, even if he is a headcase.

Not to get off topic, but speaking of “washed-up” writers, I mean players, not getting it done this year. Dare I mention Tim Duncan’s name — my wife’s favorite player? Same thing. Been in the league forever. He’s a gamer, plays every night but is beat up, and tired, and struggling to get it done this season.

Sure, Iverson is a pain in the ass about the whole coming off the bench thing, but you don’t see Duncan being the fall guy for an aging Spurs team that’s struggling to make the playoffs. Even after Pop benched him last night because of his injury.

Those two teams are going through the same issues, but it’s AI who gets the rap because of the tattoos and the attitude, and the “we’re talking about practice” thing.

But maybe our brethren in the sports journalism field are the ones who need some “practice.”

Practice, man. We’re talkin’ about practice.

We’re not talking about war here, Jason. But if there’s ever been an “overachiever” who went to battle on the basketball floor every night, AI’s that guy.

But we’re not talking about war, or peace, or life, or death. We’re talking about practice. We’re talking about a game people play. A game a 6-foot-kid from Hampton, Virginia, played with reckless abandon, and I could never fault him for that.