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The NBA Point Guard died today due to complications surrounding a neglected existence. He was 54. He is survived by his more popular cousin, Shooting Guard.

PG was born in the fall of 1950, around the time legendary Bob Cousy began his professional career in Boston, PG carved out a role as a team staple - a selfless playmaker and organizer, a leader, an on-floor coach.

His "pass first, shoot second" mentality was one of a kind, spawned by an unselfish nature rarely seen in professional sports. He was a "people" person, a unifier of mind and purpose with the sole intention of instilling team harmony.

PG's motivation arose from a desire to win and achieve the best result. Developing his skills over five decades, he rapidly became the catalyst of the NBA offense and inspired numerous others to follow his lead; Bob Cousy, K.C. Jones, Nate Archibald, Calvin Murphy, Earvin Johnson, Isiah Thomas, John Stockton, Dennis Johnson, Mark Jackson, Scott Skiles and Jason Kidd, to name a few.

Cousy once said, "If basketball is an art form it primarily resides in the artistry, creativity, imagination and development of the nuances of the position by a genuine point guard such as John Stockton or Jason Kidd."

"Genuine" was one of PG's nicknames.

His career flourished through the decades and over that time elevated to an art form. More like architecture than oil painting though, he distributed the ball with the same mathematical accuracy required to use a set square. Magic Johnson and Mark Jackson may have added flair but only on top of a fundamental base.

So it was with extreme anguish that NBA fans were forced to swallow a contaminated blend of this skill during the turn of the 1990s. Perhaps the arrival of too many scorers spoiled the league's delicious broth. Or maybe everybody, regardless of position, just wanted to be like Mike. Whatever the cause, PG's life was forever changed by a modern recipe that no longer resembled the sweetness of basketball that we had come to love.

The last decade especially harmed PG's presence on the floor. Hybrid guards - too small to be traditional scorers and too tall to be restricted as passers - marched into the NBA as if Joe Dumars had gone mad and cloned himself over and over again. These guards nullified the need for a pure "two-guard", providing teams with the same scoring capacity in a much more dynamic package. Conversely they could fulfill a mild passing role, offering point guard-like speed and dexterity to dish to open players.

The end result was a new guard-type that excelled in self-sufficiency and became engrossed in personal achievement. A one-man-band if ever there was one, the NBA's doors opened and remained latched back for the Iversons, the Davis', the Van Exels, the Marburys, the Billups', the Fishers, the Flip Murrays, the Francis' and the Cassells to enter.

PG was benched. What use was there for a Point Guard after all when the new guys could take care of most offensive requirements?

His heart defeated and his soul bruised, PG eventually floated from the game altogether. And while he became expendable and hardly recognized, many fans wondered why the standard of the NBA had depreciated. Where was the movement, teamwork and leadership that had embodied the league's golden years? Where was the ball distribution, the even flow of the five-man unit? And more importantly, where was the artistry of the pass?

Remember when Skiles broke the single game assist record in 1990 with 30? Or how about when Magic served 22 set-ups in the '84 All Star game? And we will never forget the grace with which Stockton accumulated a best ever 15, 806 career assists.

Such magnificence seems from a retro era - achievements to reminisce and not expect to again. It may as well be the "starting four" from this point on.

These days we revere the "avant" guard. He shoots, he scores, he throws the occasional pass, and shoots again. Chauncey Billups was the most recently praised of the hybrid battalion. The 2004 Finals MVP averaged a paltry 5.2 assists per game in the championship series. Compare this to Isiah Thomas' 7 apg in 1990, against the Lakers incidentally. Billups probably couldn't even imagine passing the ball as regularly as Isiah or Magic did when they played in the Finals. Magic tallied 20 assists in Game 2 of the Finals against Detroit in '87 and 21 in Game 3 against Boston in '84, just for example. In the 1985 finals he averaged 14 assists per game!

That is why true basketball fans across America and around the world now mourn. The passing of the NBA Point Guard is a sad moment in the history of the sport.

Thanks for the memories, PG. We'd be better off adopting a "no-look" without you in the ball game.