Feb
2, 2001
NBA BASKETBALL - - - - -
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The
Redemption and Restoration of an All-Star
By
MICHELLE CHAPLIN
So
much is made in sports and society as a whole of people who overcome.
Turn on NBC during the Olympics and you'll see countless features that
tell of various athletes' abilities to rise above their situation, their
poverty, their family, or their injury -- whatever their obstacle may be
-- and become champions. Stories such as these give us hope.
Human resilience is contagious, even if one doesn't have the athletic ability
to leap over a garden hose. We all have goals, we all have walls
in our way, and watching sports enables the rest of us to believe all the
more that if we have faith and try to the best of our ability, we too can
beat the odds.
Who
doesn't enjoy hearing over and over about Sean Elliot's miraculous return
to the NBA after undergoing a kidney transplant? How many young basketball
fans today, over 30 years after the event, haven't heard of a guy named
Willis Reed who overcame his pain in game seven to inspire his team to
win their first NBA title? Yes, we love the stories of mankind's
ability to rise above that outside force bringing them down, that barrier
that they seemingly couldn't avoid. What the world will witness on
February 11 in Washington D.C., though, will be a little different.
It won't have anything to do with someone beating an injury, or the triumphant
achievement of some player having believed in himself when everyone else
doubted his ability. What we will see during the 2001 NBA All-Star
game will the reward of a man's victory over himself -- a man's victory
over his own soul.
Three
years ago the name "Latrell Sprewell" brought nothing but a look of disgust
on the faces that uttered it. You know the story. Those who
weren't one of the many who lie in wait for another modern-day, "greedy,
self-absorbed, immoral athlete" to stumble so they can cry about how sports
stars are the basis of what's wrong with America were instead saddened
simply by seeing such a bright, young, talented All-Star come crashing
down from that proverbial sky in a ball of flames.
Whether
it was sadness, anger, or cynicism, the actions of Latrell Sprewell on
December 1, 1997, brought good feelings to a big group of nobody.
For children, their role model was desecrated and they were faced with
the uncomfortable decision of standing by their hero or, horrors, being
forced to agree with Dad when he insists, "Things aren't like they used
to be." For many adults, Sprewell's attack on coach P.J. Carlesimo
was just that--a sign of a widening generation gap. Athletes didn't
do that stuff back in the good old days. For the bigots, a black
athlete attacking a white coach was the perfect fuel for their pig-headed
generalizations based on race, but Sprewell’s over-playing of the race
card only served to fan the flames of disillusioned public perception that
had recently seen a string of racially charged cases in which defendants
seemed to be able to skirt the responsibility of their actions. In
short, you got little Johnny in one corner, Dad in another, Bubba Ray Jim-Bob
over here and the Rev. Jesse Jackson across the way. It seemed that
nothing good could possibly come from this incident.
Somehow,
though, in a world of J.R. Riders and Dennis Rodmans, Sprewell would eventually
break the mold that says that bad boys never change. Certainly, he
would go on to sue the NBA, get his contract re-activated, and become a
recluse. When he would eventually return to the NBA in an orange
and blue uniform, your daddy and my daddy would scoff, groan and mutter,
"That man should not be in the NBA, he should be in jail!" Your newspaper's
and my newspaper's little journalists would sit up in their white offices
with their white word processors painting the ever-devolving picture of
this selfish amoral thug who has brought his filthy presence back to national
television to disturb your peaceful Sunday afternoon with a monster two-handed
slam, complete with long cornrows and that signature scowl.
Surprising
as it may sound, Madison Square Garden brass would actually be the first
to witness the seeds of Sprewell’s change. Knicks President Dave
Checketts, then-General Manager Ernie Grunfeld and Coach Jeff Van Gundy
paid Sprewell a visit before pulling the trigger on the trade that would
send John Starks and various other players to Golden State in exchange
for Sprewell. Checketts later said that it wasn't until he saw "Footprints
in the Sand"--a poem about God carrying his children through hard times
in life--at Sprewell's house, and spoke to him about it that he would decide
to bring the controversial player on board. That night it became
apparent to Checketts, Grunfeld and Van Gundy, as it soon would to the
New York fans as well, that Sprewell was not a conscience-less villain.
He was not proud of what he did. He was not proud of the image he
had brought upon himself. He realized his mistake, he realized what
he must do to begin to remedy it, and he was prepared to begin to do so
as long as a team would give him a chance. New York did. From
the moment he first stepped onto the court, the cascading cheers seemed
to say, "We'll forgive and forget your past if you'll just give us something
to cheer about." He did.
Before
seven months had passed, Sprewell had played a huge role in leading his
team all the way to the NBA Finals. Every basket he willed through
the Garden rims throughout that magical play-off run pushed the memory
of his sordid past further and further from the minds of Americans.
Every embrace between Sprewell and Allan Houston or Jeff Van Gundy following
New York’s Eastern Conference Championship erased the picture painted by
the press of discord between Sprewell and his new teammates and coach.
Every thoughtful and classy interview he gave planted the possibility in
the minds of viewers that maybe Latrell Sprewell wasn't such a horrible
monster after all.
Spree's
tenure in New York hasn't been without its bumps and grinds every now and
then, but by being a selfless, team-oriented player, by appreciating his
fans, by showing humility in every situation and by showing respect for
his coach, Sprewell has successfully changed his image. Van Gundy
has called him a "coach's dream." Even his most devout teammates
have commented on his good character. By removing every trace of
selfishness from his game he has elevated it to another level.
Sprewell
has spent time at both backcourt positions as well as his predominant starting
position, small forward. He scores inside. He scores outside.
He rebounds. He dishes. He defends Kobe. He defends Vince.
He is a teammate. He is a winner. He is a leader. He
has never acted under any pretense apart from gratefulness for the acceptance
he has received in New York. Perhaps it is symbolic that such a transformation
took place in New York, the city where people from all over the nation
and all over the world come to start a new life, to find freedom, and to
live out the American dream. That's what Sprewell is--The American
Dream--just as he said in that infamous commercial. Those who see
him as anything else should step back and take a look at their own lives,
at the smaller transformations that have taken place or perhaps still need
to take place.
Now
Sprewell has been rewarded. The storm of his life since that day
in 1997 has now completed a full circle. Restoration has taken place.
His star has been returned to the sky. In a league currently being
rocked by rumblings in Los Angeles, Seattle, Phoenix--rumors of selfishness,
whining, wife beating--the happy story of this All-Star weekend should
be the redemption of the life of Latrell Sprewell. He took his darkest
hour and turned it into his greatest triumph. The man who was once
viewed as the worst role model in the history of professional sports has
now become one that we all should follow.
