- The Iverson Era was supposed to be fun and interesting even if — especially if! — it descended into chaos. Then why am I bored with it already?
I spent this past weekend in deepest, darkest Arkansas, in the internet-free zone that is my mother’s house, and when I finally returned to town Sunday night it was into a lengthy to-do list of on- (and, um, past-) deadline Flyer and Memphis magazine work. This is all to explain why I am the very last person with any reason to comment on the latest twist in the Allen Iverson saga to get around to doing so.
The one benefit of coming in last is being able to gauge the general reaction. The bad part is that pretty much anything worth saying on the subject has already been said. So I’m going to try to keep my commentary brief. (Warning: When it comes to basketball, I always fail to live up to this promise.)
Predictably, the local media reaction has seemed to be a matter of choosing sides, assigning primary blame to Michael Heisley, Lionel Hollins, or Allen Iverson. But I refuse to choose sides in a debacle in which everyone comes out looking bad. A pox on all their houses.
