No athlete has ever embodied my hometown’s underdog spirit more entirely than AI on the night he led the Sixers to a famous upset of the seemingly invincible Lakers
The 2001 Philadelphia 76ers are a tall tale that only grows unlikelier with time. The premise flatly stated is absurd: the Sixers built a ballclub around a 5ft 11in delinquent from Virginia Beach and it worked. Allen Iverson became the least conventional star ever to lead a team to the NBA finals and the Sixers became the ultimate underdog squad for the ultimate underdog city.
From almost the day he arrived in my hometown aged 20, Iverson was plainly one of the NBA’s most transcendent talents, whose scoring instinct was amplified by a new-generation, kill-your-idols edge. His was the perfect game for the teenagers we were: reckless, almost violent, crackling with anarchic energy. It quickly became the greatest show in sports and it was happening right in our backyard. AI was just cool as shit. The whole city loved him. He was a singular but flawed talisman: who could win games by himself but refused to lift or do any real treatment, blew off practice because he was hungover, cursed out the coach and all but begged to be kicked off the team.
Related: My favourite game: Cubs v Indians, World Series 2016, Game 7
