Ford: Iverson's road to Hall of Fame was memorable

HOUSTON - Being a supporter of Allen Iverson through the years was not - as the man himself suggested Monday - always an easy position to hold.

Whether it was family, friends, teammates, coaches or fans, the ride they took with Iverson always alternated between exhilarating and exasperating and back again, and often very quickly. It was a thrill ride for sure, and now it has ended, at least the basketball part of it, with Iverson's impending enshrinement in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.

That's a long way from a Newport News, Va., prison, a long way from Georgetown University and a long way from entering the NBA with the 76ers at the age of 20 in the 1996 draft. The climb to the Hall of Fame would be a long way for anyone, but for Iverson, and for those who stayed with him along the path, it covered immeasurable miles.

"I used to say my biggest accomplishment was just getting drafted, whether it was the first pick or the 100th or whatever," Iverson said Monday after the Hall announcement was made official. "But now this is the best feeling because it's a tribute to everybody who helped me and stood by me, regardless. My actions, right or wrong, there were people who supported me through this long, hard journey."

Iverson forced people to choose. Either you took the whole package - appreciating the good, forgiving the bad - or you did not. He wasn't going to pad the corners of his personality to make the decision any easier. Monday was no different. He stood in line with the other inductees, all of whom dressed for the occasion, and stood there wearing a red leather baseball hat, cocked slightly sideways, a T-shirt bearing an enormous image of the king of hearts, a great deal of gaudy jewelry, badly distressed jeans and sneakers. This is Allen Iverson, even at 40, and you either take that or you do not. He didn't make the Hall of Fame because he liked to blend into a crowd.

"I don't regret nothing in my life," Iverson said, before listing one small regret concerning his time in Philadelphia with coach Larry Brown. "But if I could have a wish as an athlete, I wish I had bought into what he was trying to give me all along. I was just being defiant, being a certified asshole for nothing, when all he wanted was the best for me. I didn't take constructive criticism the way I should have. When I finally caught up to that, that's when I went to being the MVP."

His basketball accomplishments are obvious. He is still the smallest (6-foot, 165 pounds) player ever taken with the first pick in the draft. He made the All-Star Game 11 times and led the league in scoring four times. He played more than 900 games and averaged 41 minutes and there was a huge toll he paid for the fearlessness that defined his game, which is something that can't be added up and put in a box score.

"There were a lot of mornings where I was walking around like Fred Sanford, and my wife would say, 'I know you're not playing basketball tonight,' " Iverson said. "And I'd say, 'Oh, yes, I am. Because there might be that one person there who will never go to another game, and maybe I can give them something they'll remember for the rest of their lives.' "

He's 40 now, and his perspective on some things is better, but the regrets for the way he played, the way he lived, the way he dresses, the support he got and the support he could never get, those regrets are really very few.

"I had to learn that some people are just not going to like you. I had to have thick skin, when I would see what people would say or write about me," Iverson said. "Now, I just concentrate on the people who say, 'I love you, AI.' It took until this old-ass age of mine to realize that. I feel so good for everybody who helped me. I'm talking about the true fan who from Day One was like, 'OK, I'm an Allen Iverson fan.' I want them to sit back and feel like they accomplished this. Because you can't do nothing by yourself. You need somebody with you when you're down to pick you back up. I wanted everybody who rooted for me to feel good about today."

Not every day was quite so good, but it was always interesting. It was always raw and unscripted. There were always trees that lined the road to the basket and the road through life, and he didn't miss all of them.

He came out with dented fenders and broken mirrors, but that was fine, because looking back wasn't his specialty. He wasn't much on looking ahead, either. Allen Iverson was a blur in the moment. Now the moments have slowed, and on Monday they were added up and presented back to him.

"I never thought about life after basketball," Iverson said. "I didn't want the Hall of Fame to ever come, because I wanted to play forever."

bford@phillynews.com

@bobfordsports