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The Legend of Eric Snow

I SAW JOE FRAZIER at the First Union Center last night, literally and figuratively. I saw gallantry. I saw victory. And it was all about what was inside.

I saw Frazier, in the dying seconds of a Sixers win for the ages, and asked him if there was a basketball player on that floor who was as tough as he was in the days when he battled Muhammad Ali. And Joe got that twinkle in his eye and he said, "The little guy. What's his name?"

Iverson. Allen Iverson.

"Yeah, Iverson," Frazier said. "He's the toughest. I can't believe how many times he gets up. I could never get up that many times."

And then I asked him about Eric Snow, if he knew who Snow was, if he knew Snow was in the process of playing 27 minutes and scoring 18 points on both a sprained ankle and a broken ankle.

Joe shook his head. Broken?

Yes, broken.

"OK, he can be the second-toughest," Frazier said.

And then he laughed and commenced dancing with some members of the Sixers' dance team. Dancing into the night. What else was there to do?

There is a hockey legend wrapped around the name of Bob Baun, a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs who, once upon a time, played in the Stanley Cup playoffs with a broken leg. And, well, another legend was born last night when the Sixers beat the Milwaukee Bucks, 89-88, in Game 5 of the NBA Eastern Conference finals. It is the story of a guy named Eric Snow, who played a basketball game with a broken ankle.

Repeat that. Say it slowly as you savor the Sixers' 3-2 lead in the series. Let the words sink in. Because there already was a screw in there from a midseason surgery, the crack in the bone apparently is being held together enough that the break doesn't hurt too much.

Still, it is broken. And, still, Snow played his best game of the series. He knows he is risking further injury, at least to some degree.

He knows that surgery is pretty much inevitable when the season ends.

Yet he plays and builds a legend.

"It's tough," Snow said. "I have my wife, who's really upset with me being out there. She supports it, but she's really worried I'm going to do something and not be able to play basketball again. But I have her support, my family's support, my team's support. "I just wanted to give it a go," he said.

For the Sixers, it began as a nightmare. The concern was obvious: that the injuries had left them too depleted, and that the surge of emotion - along with the return of Iverson in Game 4 - had been depleted. That was the worry when they threw up the ball, and then the Bucks were ahead by 7-0, and then they were ahead by 16 points, and there Iverson was - short on everything from the outside, banging on the front of the rim and then banging some more.

And then it happened, again.

We are past the blood-from-a-stone analogy. We are so far past it that it is time for new suggestions. Blood from an anvil? Blood from a diamond? Blood from a reinforced concrete block? Name your impossibility and the Sixers continue to challenge it.

And so, they came back. The Sixers - with a roster held together by chewing gum and baling wire, with a group of players and coaches whose main viewing habits at this point don't involve videotapes, but X-rays - shrank the deficit to nothing. They filled in the entire hole.

The Sixers ended the third quarter at a 70-70 tie, building the platform for their final run. They did it as they always do, by slowing the game and turning it into a slugfest. And then, in the fourth, Snow hit key jumper after key jumper. In the final period, he scored eight points on 4-for-5 shooting.

"If it's a fast game, I definitely can't play in games like that against this team," Snow said. "I can pick up some speed, but I'm not as fast as I usually am. The stopping and starting is the hardest, the stop and go. That's what I'm struggling with right now."

It's true the whole thing wouldn't have been possible if the Bucks hadn't again lost their heads - bickering with the officials, just shrinking in the moment. The Sixers couldn't hit anything for much of the night and still managed to pull themselves back into it.

How? It's no secret at this point. You fill your roster with intestinal fortitude, you find a way to hold the fort. All of which bring us back to Eric Snow.

"Just him being out there was incredible," said his coach, Larry Brown.

"What can I say? He won the game for us," said his teammate, Aaron McKie.

Second-toughest? Not this night.

(from The Phila. Daily News, Rich Hofmann, 5/31/01)