Welcome To The XBA

By Robert Sullivan

That was one wild and woolly half-season the XBA--oops, the NBA--just topped off with its hey-hey slam-bang All Star Game and Party-Hearty Weekend. You start the year with a star player's truly nasty rap lyrics, you get whining from the champs in L.A., and then a huge superstar gets booted from the arena for cussing a ref on national TV.

And that was Jimmy Buffett!

The XBA's got it all, and it resembles the old NBA--old, as in the Michael Jordan era--not a bit. Take Allen Iverson, for starters. Let's be honest: everyone in the league who doesn't live in Philadelphia was hoping that anyone but this guy would emerge as the next Man. But in his fifth season, the little one (6 ft. flat) is the biggest thing in sneakers. Averaging 29.7 points a game, he has led Philadelphia to the best record in the league (36-14), which renders commissioner David Stern delighted.

What's the rap on Iverson? Start with the rap sheet. In high school in Virginia, he served four months for his part in a fight (he was pardoned by the Governor, who was not named Clinton). As an NBA rookie, he was busted for having marijuana and a gun in his Mercedes-Benz (he got three years' probation for packing the piece). Let's move to the rap lyrics: preseason, the Answer, as he's known, released a vile, misogynist, gay-bashing CD. Stern summoned him to the principal's office. Iverson proclaimed the session constructive, and apologized to all whom he may have offended. Constructive, but not preventive: last month some louts in Indianapolis were riding him, and the Answer answered, "Go home, gays!"(He didn't exactly say "gays.") The exchange went nationwide on NBC. Cue the apology.

When Iverson wasn't the news, L.A.'s Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant were. Each insisted he's the Man on the world-champion Lakers, and the other guy should defer. Old-timers were appalled that team success wasn't enough to make O'Neal and Bryant contented campers. But then, old-timers don't really understand the XBA.

To hear him tell it, commissioner Stern is sanguine. On Kobe vs. Shaq: "A bit of petulance both will grow out of." On Iverson: "You can focus on Allen's tattoos and rap songs or on the fact that he's emerging as one of the greatest guards of all time. I find it odd that a dad whose kids are listening to Eminem upstairs reads about Allen Iverson in the papers and says he's not going to watch anymore. He should be taking away those Eminem CDs."

Make no mistake, with the NBA's TV ratings off 7%, Stern is concerned with image. He met on Friday with a group of players, owners and union officials to "restate the historic partnership of the NBA and traditional values," as he put it. "I believe civility and manners are not going out of style." (He hasn't been in the lane lately.) He also says there's no thinking that, in this X age, the league should go totally street and court a new generation of paying customers. "Not on my watch."

It's a shame that Iverson & Co. have alienated old-time fans because, for all the volume and vulgarity, the X-men can play. Iverson is--let's use a wuss phrase here--a joy to behold. He can sky, and he can hit with a hand or an entire team in his face. The personable O'Neal is a dominating, awe-inspiring center. Bryant, who leads the league in scoring with 29.9 points per game, is showing signs of turning Magic.

And there are enough solid citizens elsewhere to start a Rotary Club chapter: Minnesota's Kevin Garnett, San Antonio's Tim Duncan and David Robinson and Utah's John Stockton and Karl Malone are all fighting--nicely--for the Midwest Division lead. Up north, Vince Carter's soaring play is raising the temperature in Toronto.

There are terrific new rivalries. On the same day last week: New Jersey's Stephon Marbury, a true Gen X me-firster, outdueled Iverson 34-32 and led his team to an upset win; Bryant scored 26 as the Lakers beat the Sacramento Kings, pretenders to their throne, and in a fierce, high-testosterone game, New York's Knicks rumbled to a 103-100 overtime win over Miami's Heat.

That was the game in which parrothead pop singer Buffett got the heave-ho for popping an expletive. Later, cheerfully unbowed, Buffett apologized to his son for embarrassing him--but wasn't changing attitudes about the ref. "Wrong call!" Buffett explained. Now that's the XBA spirit.