Iverson’s image may never change without title

PHILADELPHIA – The Allen Iverson era unofficially came to an end Friday night – for all the wrong reasons.

It came to an end because the 76ers couldn’t build a championship team around him. Because they couldn’t win. Because, in the end, after so many moments of saying all the right things, swearing he’s about “playing the right way,” the former NBA MVP who led this franchise to the Finals in 2001 will depart with a worse image than the coach who guided him there.

As impossible as it sounds, as hard as it may be to believe, Iverson has managed to make former Sixers coach Larry Brown look good.

It was Brown, after all, who tried to trade Iverson years ago. It was Brown who defied conventional wisdom and challenged the implementation of a star system Iverson so desperately coveted. In the final analysis, when we look back on Iverson’s career in Philadelphia, we’ll all remember it was Brown who kept saying “you can’t coach this kid” continuously to his contemporaries in the coaching profession, appearing more prophetic than even Iverson himself could have fathomed.

A championship is the only thing that will resurrect Iverson’s once-stellar image. After all that’s been said and done, no other culmination will suffice. A career devoid of titles for Iverson amounts to nothing more than a slot next to the Charles Barkleys and Karl Malones of the world, without the appreciation and fanfare.

Or the excuse that Michael Jordan was standing in his way.

Of course, there are those who will blame Brown, mainly for leaving Iverson to his own devices before finishing the job. But the truth is, Brown got his ring in Detroit with players who played together, which only adds to the skepticism that will drape Iverson’s career for the rest of his days.

Iverson was never in a position to make trades or improve this roster. He wasn’t the one who overpaid Dikembe Mutombo or Kenny Thomas or considered Chris Webber an acceptable risk.

None of that matters.

Not now. Not ever again.

Not after hearing Sixers chairman Ed Snider.

“We’re going to trade (Iverson),” Snider echoed during halftime of Friday night’s game. “We’re going to trade him,” he added emphatically when asked whether he’d be able to, with Iverson making $17.184 million this season.

“I really didn’t see this coming because Allen says all the right things, and I thought that he really was behind (coach) Mo (Cheeks) and what we were trying to accomplish. Obviously, he’s not. I think it’s time for him to move on and for us to move on.”

The ineptitude of this franchise will become a mere side note, another chapter added to a book needing volume to substantiate its significance.

So what of the numerous coaches? The questionable moves by president Billy King?

Perception will envelope Iverson’s career.

In the weeks and months to follow, we’ll hear about how Iverson liked a little too much alcohol. How he had a fetish for partying in Atlantic City. How this husband and proud father wasn’t responsible enough to simply come to work every day and be a leader of young men.

Whether any of it is true is totally irrelevant. Iverson will be gone, after all, having left behind a residue of sub-.500 seasons, far too many shots and missed opportunities, and one moment in 2001 that stopped shining far too long ago.

“As hard as it may be to admit, a change may be the best thing for everyone,” part of Iverson’s statement said Friday.

What’s harder? It wasn’t difficult to concur with his statement at all.

The Sixers are aware that Boston is willing to surrender a first-round pick and anything else but Paul Pierce to get Iverson. They know Minnesota would probably give up Villanova product Randy Foye. Judging by Snider’s vow, that Iverson “probably” played his last game in a Sixers uniform, this ship has finally sailed.

So while the memories remain, it’s fair to say they won’t stay frozen in time, stuffed with Iverson heroics and a city’s appreciation. Instead, we’ll all think of what might have been, of what-ifs, before we pause to contemplate what happened.

That is when missed practices will usurp point production in our minds, when expletive-laced tirades with a coach or playoff omissions will matter more than scoring titles or all-star appearances in our hearts.

An answer will be requested but not in the form of sound and fury. The basketball world will await a championship moment, instead.

Anticipating silence along the way, because that is what Iverson’s career will sing when it matters most.

That reality, more than anything, is the shame of it all.