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)