GLENN JAMES/NBA PHOTOS Playing in a league full of rising stars, Allen Iverson got passed over for a spot on the Olympic basketball team.

From the Sidelines

For Iverson, no gold, just a cold shoulder

If he was waiting for a place on the United States Olympic basketball team, then Iverson must have been disappointed when the 10-person committee gave him the cold shoulder in early January. The final roster includes good players like Allan Houston and Tim Hardaway but not the unabashedly graceful and inventive Iverson. Ironically, this same six-foot scoring machine would probably have made it had he sported the artificially sanitized image that Wizards officials sought to create.

Unfortunately, the National Basketball Association (NBA) thinks the same way the Wizards do. If he had a choice, Commissioner David Stern would surreptitiously rub out some of Iverson's personality—and simultaneously display him on the front page for the world to see. Last year, after winning the scoring title in an electric race with Shaquille O'Neal, Iverson finished a distant fifth in the race for Most Valuable Player behind more stolid athletes like Karl Malone. This year, though he now leads the league with an average of 31.5 points per game—including a 50-point game on Tues., Feb. 1 against Sacramento—Iverson was spurned by a group of men assembled to defend the status quo.

To be fair, nine of the slots on the Olympic team were promised last March to those willing to play in the pointless Tournament of the Americas, which qualified the United States for the 2000 Olympics. At that time, according to panel members, Iverson's name was in the mix. But in this year's final selection round, Iverson was barely discussed. Instead, Ray Allen garnered the coveted final spot with his unequivocally inferior numbers and a willingness, unlike Iverson, to warm the bench.

The NBA has, of course, convinced itself that Allen is a great player. In a league that relies on the flash and sizzle of individual actors, one can now be labeled "great" just for leading his team in scoring and appearing in an excruciating Spike Lee film. Sadly, this tactic creates a great deal of noise that makes it hard to pinpoint the truly outstanding talents. Iverson, a product of the coddling, spoiling, ultra-hyped environment of college and pro ball, now finds himself its victim.

But the problem runs deeper. The NBA, so willing to prostitute itself with thundering dunks, Ahmad Rashad, and highlight reel after highlight reel, is not willing to stand up and recognize the players who make that giddy reel turn. Iverson approaches every game with hustle and drive, but his tattoos and cornrows set off old, deep-seated prejudices in a league run by white, middle-aged men. Iverson's mother comes to every game and hugs him when it's over, but doesn't No. 3 also smoke marijuana? Iverson includes old friends and family members in every aspect of his life, but don't they just form a "posse"? Iverson works and earns money like a man, but isn't he really just a boy?

No one can deny that Iverson's conduct has often been coarse. He has sulked when benched and sparred publicly with Sixers management. He takes many small liberties that irk his teammates, like parking in the restricted zone in front of the Sixers' practice complex while his colleagues obey the law and park on the top floor of the garage. But these are all learned behaviors, shaped by basketball and hardened in the NBA's hot kiln. Iverson, to his credit, has made strides toward breaking this mold—he keeps out of legal trouble, plays defense, passes the ball, and plays hard for one of the league's most demanding coaches. For a 24-year-old who has lived for years under the hot media lights, can we expect anything more?

Not for now. For the time being, let us not mar Iverson's dynamic presence with our haste. There is no shame in merely enjoying the spectacle, marveling nightly as Iverson explodes the scoreboard with his crossover and his soft shooting touch. And less visible joys like personal and professional growth are coming too. But it is the self-anointed parents as well as the precocious son who must deliver them. "They know my talent," Iverson said. "But I know when they finally put me on a team, it will be when they accept me for who I am. I'll wait."

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