When Iverson left the NBA, it wasn’t the gradual transition to retirement that I had anticipated. It was at this point that I realized the sad and inevitable fate common to all my heroes: eventually, they lose their powers.Īnd thus, the moral of the story. Was it the little aliens from Moron Mountain? That seemed like the only rational explanation for how someone could go from a bonafide superstar straight to a journeyman, with no in between. His descension from stardom was so rapid and unexpected that I couldn’t wrap my head around what had just happened. After coming off a season in which he appeared in all 82-contests, played a league leading 42-minutes per game, finished 4th in scoring while shooting 46% from the field, and dished out 7.1 apg, Allen Iverson had somehow fallen from the pedestal that he had occupied for the previous 14-years. Seemingly out of nowhere, the world as I knew it did a complete 360. They became like Gods, and like any good devotee, I spent every Sunday in worship, fixated on the ABC double-header that would occupy my TV.Įverything was perfect, my heroes were on top of the universe and I was right there to bask in their glory. From that moment onwards, the rest of my life would be dedicated to supporting my heroes, cheering them on as they continued to astound with their supernatural talents. Marvel and DC became East and West, and soon enough, I had traded in my Super Saiyan powers for a ball, some tarmac, and a hoop. I mean, it’s not like Vince Carter needed a cape to defy the laws of gravity, or like Jason Kidd needed spidey senses to read ten-steps ahead of the defence. Here I was preoccupied with fictional superheroes when all along, real ones existed on the court. That’s why, when I finally became exposed to the NBA it was like love at first sight. That group of misfits that spent every recess trying to re-enact the previous night’s episode of Dragon Ball Z? Those were my best friends, and no matter how many times a recess supervisor would try and put an end to our fun, we always remained committed in our duty as Super Saiyans, protecting our school against the evil that lurked its grounds. Suffice to say, like most kids my age I was pretty into the whole superhero thing. Remember that little kid with the Spiderman shoes and the Star Wars novelty school kit, the one that came with a matching knapsack, lunch box and pencil case? Yeah, that was me.
Some key members from the historic ’96 Draft class