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Allen Iverson reflects on career: 'I felt proud that I started something'

After the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame officially announced this year's finalists for induction, one of the game's most polarizing and celebrated figures will be that much closer to being recognized among the sport's grandest players.

While dominant 7-footers Shaquille O'Neal and Yao Ming also headline the class, it's the triumph of 6-foot-flat Allen Iverson to continually overcome his critics and represent a new look, attitude and style of play that'll fuel his eventual induction with such a sense of accomplishment. Along the way, he undoubtedly inspired a future generation.

"I mean, it's just an honor," Iverson initially downplayed in an interview with The Vertical last week, before pausing to really take in the magnitude of the moment. "I'd be lying to you, and I might not've said it publicly [along the way], but it's something that you think about as you get better and better. As you start accomplishing so many different things, in your mind, you're thinking, 'Damn, I can be a Rookie of the Year if I work hard.' Or, 'I can make the Olympic team.' Or, 'I can make the All-Star team.' Then, after you accomplish all of those things, after awhile, you know how good you are because of just your production. … I used to say, 'Wouldn't it be crazy, I could be a Hall of Famer?'"

It might not sound so crazy any longer, as Iverson is expected to join the 361 players, coaches, referees and contributors already inducted into the Hall, later this fall, during the annual enshrinement ceremony held every September.

Allen Iverson changed not only the NBA's style of play, but also its culture. (Getty Images)
Allen Iverson changed not only the NBA's style of play, but also its culture. (Getty Images)

It'll be just beyond the 20th anniversary of Iverson's selection as the first overall pick in a decorated 1996 NBA draft class – and also 20 years after his landmark endorsement deal that made him the face of Reebok Basketball. In a shoe deal negotiated by his then-agent David Falk, who also represented Michael Jordan at the time, AI was given the "highest guarantee that anyone had ever gotten in shoes" as a rookie, according to Falk.

At his peak, Iverson was one of the game's most prolific and inventive scorers, a volume shooter who played against today's more conventional and efficiency-minded principles. His gunning style tallied him four scoring titles, and his 29.7 points per game in the playoffs is second only to his idol, Jordan.

"God gave me all this, why waste the talent that he gave me?" he said "Why not go full throttle with it all and try to become in the class with the greatest players that ever played the game? That's just a great feeling. Then, you think about all of the guys, teammates and coaches, fans and family members and friends – everybody that helped you get there – because it's a tribute to them too. Once it happens, if it happens, they're going to get all of the credit, because without all of those people that I mentioned, it wouldn't be possible."

While Iverson loves to credit those around him along the way, he's also learned to not stress his detractors, which he admits took him years to come to terms with. "Allen Iverson should concentrate on the ones that love him," he said, laughing while referencing himself in third person, in true AI fashion. During his playing career, he hadn't yet developed that thick skin, as he took the constant criticism to heart for things like his cornrows, his tattoos, his brashness, and of course, his thoughts on practice.

The ink he so famously etched throughout his body came at a time when the only player visibly sporting tattoos was the league outcast, Dennis Rodman. Iverson entered his rookie season with only a Georgetown-centric bulldog on his bicep. By the late '90s, he was leading the Association's look into a new millennium, to the collective nervousness of league and corporate executives.

"All my tattoos are tattoos that I wanted to get, but I couldn't afford," he said with a smile. "Coming into the league, if I would've had money, then obviously I would've had more tattoos. That was a time where my mom or my dad or somebody gave me $100, and I said, 'Well this is what I want to do.' They couldn't believe I spent it on that, but that [bulldog] was something that I wanted real bad."

Michael Jordan (left) was Allen Iverson's idol. (Getty Images)
Michael Jordan (left) was Allen Iverson's idol. (Getty Images)

As he entered the league with the lone bulldog tattoo and its accompanying "The Answer" text, the doubters persisted, prompting Reebok to even name his first shoe "The Question." Iverson's immediate on-court accomplishments and relentless insistence on playing through nagging injuries, routinely challenging giants in the key and going all out each night earned him fans the world over, but it's his impact on the players who followed him that he acknowledges means just as much for his legacy. He opened the doors for the next generation of stars like LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony, full-sleeve tattoos and all, to be accepted and marketed by the nation's biggest corporations.

"I felt proud that I started something, and people can open up and be themselves," Iverson said. "That's what sports is. Everybody can't be the same. That's why fans love certain people and different guys in sports. They have their own originality. If everybody was the same, you would like every player and everything. Wouldn't no player stand out. It was bittersweet, and I'm happy I took the beating for it."

Throughout his 14 seasons in the NBA, taking a beating became something Allen got used to over time, both on and off the court. Even so, more than a decade later, his infamous "Practice" news conference has lingered on longer than he could've ever imagined. It's been viewed over 10 million times on YouTube, more than even his most iconic play, the rookie-year crossover on Michael Jordan. In a modern social media age that salivates for sound bites, the outburst has lived on to paint a picture of Iverson as someone who didn't work on his game and disregarded practice altogether, a sentiment he's hoping his Hall of Fame recognition can help to shatter.

"I remember going into Larry Brown's office, and meeting with Larry Brown and Billy King, who was the general manager at the time," Iverson said, vividly recalling that day. "All of the trade rumors were going around, and we had the meeting. I said that I was going to change everything up, and I voiced that to them. They said what they thought, and that they believed in me, and said that I wasn't going nowhere. We get to the press conference, and I'm happy as hell. I'm thinking that I'm on the way to the press conference and I get to tell all of my fans and everybody in Philadelphia, 'I'm staying in Philadelphia.' "

As he soon found out, and as everyone now knows, things didn't go quite as planned.

"When I get there, all the questions, they asked me about practice," he said. "I thought I was here to tell them that I wasn't going anywhere, and then that was that – practice question, practice question, practice question. Looking back on it, I wish I didn't entertain it like I did. My best friend had just got killed, so I was already heated anyway. I was on the edge, and I was ready to explode anyway, just for anything negative, cause I was there to talk about something positive. Then, the rest is history."

Allen Iverson's style evolved from his first season in the NBA. (Getty Images)
Allen Iverson's style evolved from his first season in the NBA. (Getty Images)

Iverson said "practice" 22 times, and the episode defined his eventual exit from Philadelphia and shadowed his future stops in Denver, Detroit and Memphis.

"I look back now on it, and it's embarrassing, but it's funny, too," Iverson said. "Everybody teases me about it. Former teammates, family members, friends, whatever. I can be having a general conversation with somebody about basketball, and go, 'You know, I saw him practice …' and then they'll come back, 'Practice. Practice. Practice.'

"So everybody teases me, and I'm thick-skinned with it now. But back then, it would just hurt me, because I had just lost my friend, and I was excited to tell my fans that I wasn't going nowhere."

As a potential headliner of the Basketball Hall's upcoming class, Iverson hopes his body of work can speak for itself. He's hopeful his effort, and, yes, practice, will be recognized as a hallmark of the career he carved out. "Hey man, listen, you name me one person that accomplished all the things that I accomplished in my career without practice," Allen said firmly, and proudly. "MVP. Four-time scoring champion. First-team All-NBA. All-Star. Come on, man. Rookie of the Year. Come on, man. You can't do all that. I wish I was that talented, to be able to do all of those things and not practice, but I've never seen a person that can accomplish all of those things without practicing."

With his career now behind him, and one last chapter of recognition in store later this fall in Springfield, Mass., Iverson insists he has no regrets about being grouped with the likes of John Stockton, Karl Malone and Charles Barkley – legendary players who never won a ring.

"People always talk about me not winning a championship. Well, there's a lot of things I haven't done in life that I would've liked to do," he joked. "I've done all of those things that certain basketball players would never dream of doing. It's some guys that won championships, and never even got in the game, but they got championship rings. It's just something that God didn't want for me. You tellin' me Charles Barkley is not Charles Barkley because he doesn't have a ring? That's Charles Barkley, man! It don't get no better than that."

Now 40 years old and two decades removed from entering the league amid endless questions, Iverson's legacy is all but cemented, with only his inevitable Hall of Fame induction left ahead this September. He's quick to recognize just how much he was both loved and hated along the way. More than anything, he's at peace with the impact he left on the game of basketball, and the sport's culture at large.

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