|
CrushAlot
Posts: 59764
Alba Posts: 0
Joined: 7/25/2003
Member: #452
USA
|
MORE ON MARBURY:
The 15 craziest athletes in Boston sports history By Mike Miliard.
Swearing and Invective•Sports•National Football League•more >>
Cleaning Guy Pat D: Stephon Marbury Rant. Yessah! As told to Adam Reilly.
In 1994's The Last Shot: City Streets,Basketball Dreams, author Darcy Frey offers potent evidence that the matchlessly bizarre personality of new Celtic Stephon Marbury dates back at least to early adolescence. When Marbury enters Frey's narrative, which focuses on a legendary basketball team at Brooklyn's Abraham Lincoln High, he's a 14-year-old phenom piloting a Big Wheel through an irked crowd of older players gathered for a playground game. Later in the book, Marbury — the great NBA hope of a storied Coney Island basketball family — has a surreal exchange with his teammate Tchaka Shipp, a Nike All-American bound for basketball powerhouse Seton Hall:
"Yo, nigger, what position you gonna play in college?" Stephon asked Tchaka after his Seton Hall trip. . . .
"Forward," Tchaka replied.
"Power forward?" Stephon said with mock incredulity. . . . "But you're only six-six," said the five-nine Stephon.
"Six-seven, nigger." Tchaka slammed his locker shut.
"You know power forwards got to dribble and shoot," Stephon suggested, his voice richly condescending. "You been working on that?" Stephon handed Tchaka a paper cup and suggested that Tchaka dispose of it for him.
Tchaka, stuck with the damned cup in his hand, was speechless for a moment. Then he exploded, "You're a freshman, man! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I can't wait till you go to college," Stephon said with a sneer. "You'll be carrying luggage."
Telling a very tall, very good teammate that he's destined to be a scrub is an odd way to build locker-room chemistry. But then, esprit de corps has never been Marbury's strong suit. Which is why, ever since word surfaced this past week that the New York Knicks had negotiated a buyout of Marbury's contract, leaving him poised to sign with the Celtics, the wisdom of that move has been hotly debated. Critics pan Marbury as a selfish problem child who's burned through five teams in 13 years — teams that invariably get a whole lot better as soon as he leaves town. Fans of the move cite the C's thin bench and Marbury's on-court prowess — he's a born point guard and two-time NBA All-Star who's averaged nearly 20 points and eight assists per game over his career — and argue that the Celtics' solid locker-room culture will keep Marbury from becoming the cancerous presence he's been elsewhere.
Interesting though it may be, this debate is too superficial. Whether or not Marbury helps the Celtics, the real question is this: what planet is he from, exactly? Look back at the long, strange trip that is Marbury's career, and there's considerable evidence that his reality is simply unlike yours and mine — and, for that matter, unlike Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce and Ray Allen's. His mind works differently; he speaks a different language; he seems, at times, to operate in an entirely different dimension. To paraphrase Thriller-era Michael Jackson, Stephon's not like the other guys. And now that he's here, Bostonians should be prepared for a sports freak show unlike anything they've seen before.
All alone
But let's deal with Marbury's conventional transgressions first — and let's start with the selfishness, because the acuteness of Marbury's narcissism puts even his most solipsistic pro peers to shame.
There is, admittedly, something absurd about the way the public bristles when pro athletes show an excessive sense of entitlement: we pay obscene amounts of money to watch these players perform, know full well that they're making even more obscene amounts of money to ply their craft, and then are shocked — shocked! — when they act like they think they're better than the rest of us, or not beholden to the same ethical norms.
All that said, it's hard not to marvel at the Promethean self-absorption of the newest Celtic. Most recently, Marbury — who was making about $21 million with the New York Knicks this past season — evidently refused to take the court two times in November 2008, after the team had been decimated by injuries, and was subsequently banished. Marbury's motivation was obvious — he was piqued by an opening-night benching by coach Mike D'Antoni — but his boycott was seen as an unacceptable breach of protocol by fans and players alike. As then-teammate Quentin Richardson put it: "He hasn't played with us all year. . . . I don't pay attention to [Stephon] because I don't look at him as a teammate, anyway."
Even if this episode had been an anomaly, it still would raise questions about the wisdom of the C's adding Marbury. But the fact is, he's been pulling this kind of crap for years. In 1999 — after gushing about how happy he was to play with his friend Kevin Garnett — Marbury apparently grew jealous of Garnett's precedent-setting, lockout-inducing $126 million contract and forced the team to trade him to the woeful New Jersey Nets. That same year, Marbury conveyed his dissatisfaction with his new Nets teammates by writing the phrase "All Alone" on his ankle tape — then claimed, implausibly, that the message had been misunderstood. And in 2002, as a Phoenix Sun, he took a pointless potshot at Garnett by waxing ecstatic over how much better than KG his new teammate Amare Stoudemire was as a rookie. ("It's not even close," Marbury said at the time. "It's like Michael Jordan and Mario Elie.")
For those keeping score at home, now would be a good time to pull out your list of typical pro-athlete offenses and check the box next to "Incorrigible Egotism." While you're at it, you can probably check off "Misogyny," too. In September 2007, testifying in a sexual-harassment case brought against the Knicks by former team executive Anucha Browne Sanders, Marbury rejected Sanders's claim that he had referred to her as a "black bitch," but copped to using plain old "bitch," adding: "I said she doesn't run ****. I may have said **** her." (He also admitted to having sex with a Knicks intern in the back of his truck after a group strip-club trip in 2005 — not the sort of confession a married father of three typically wants to make.) Also mark off "Conspicuous Consumption": in 2000, Marbury claimed that, as he sat in his car (a Bentley, natch) at a red light in Manhattan, thieves took his 24-inch, $150,000 diamond necklace.
Swearing and Invective•Sports•National Football League•more >>
Seeing the light
If you're a Celtics fan who thinks Marbury will push the C's to a second consecutive championship, you've probably got your rejoinder ready: So Marbury's a conceited jerk. Big deal. Didn't the Red Sox win with Manny? And didn't the Patriots make Randy Moss a model citizen? But this line of argument doesn't quite work: paradoxically, it both sells Marbury short and ignores the full extent of his dysfunction.
The problem is, Marbury's weirdness also incorporates a strong altruistic streak — which is great, except when it edges into Christ Complex territory. In 2007, for example, he donated $1 million each to New York City firefighters, cops, EMS workers, and teachers, citing post-9/11 gratitude and a desire to spread the wealth "among, well, everyone." And in 2006, he launched his own line of basketball shoes — the "Starburys" — in conjunction with now-defunct retailer Steve & Barry's. Priced at just under $15 a pair, the shoes in question could be purchased with relative ease even by impoverished kids — like those who live in the Coney Island projects where Marbury himself came of age. Whatever you think of Marbury, it was a commendable move.
Or was it? Putting shoes (and an accompanying clothing line) within reach of lower-income children is laudable. But a case can be made that the whole "Starbury" venture, which continues online, actually reinforces Marbury's egotism rather than mitigates it. Marbury didn't just give the shoes his own nickname, and a star logo that's tattooed onto the left side of his skull. He also insisted on speaking of a broader "Starbury Movement," and of taking said movement on cross-country tours.
Obviously, there's nothing wrong with aggressively promoting a product you believe in. But Marbury seems to think that bigger stakes are involved. During a July 2007 interview on Mike'd Up, a WNBC-TV New York local-sports show, Marbury was asked about a Starbury giveaway he'd recently staged on Coney Island. As he explained his reaction ("It felt like heaven on Earth. That made me want to do so much more to create jobs for everybody on this Earth.") and his intense interest in education-related projects ("I can't teach all of the kids."), he sounded as much like an aspiring holy man as an enlightened entrepreneur.
In fact, no one should be surprised if Marbury eventually embarks on a second career as a preacher, guru, or mystic. In a November 2007 piece in New York magazine, writer Tommy Craggs recalled watching a wholly un-self-conscious Marbury engage in a prayer-cum-jazzercise routine in a South Carolina hotel. (" 'I go like this,' Marbury said. He began weaving his hands in and out, rolling his shoulders, and casting his eyes skyward. His assistant, Gaylord, chimed in. 'Givin' your praise to the Almighty Lord,' he said. 'That's it,' Marbury said.")
In the past few years, such awkward, overly demonstrative Jesus-freakery has become one of Marbury's defining tics. In a 2007 guest entry written on New York Post basketball writer Mark Berman's blog, for example, Marbury described his visit to the Sistine Chapel thusly: "It is incredible. You walk in one door and out the other and you become free in mind, body, and spirit. That's when I knew I was free. I flew home a free man and my life got turned around." (Given his subsequent falling-out with the Knicks, this assessment may have been premature.)
< preHow weird is Stephon Marbury?
By ADAM REILLY | March 10, 2009 | Recommended By 14 PeopleIn the Mike'd Up interview, meanwhile, Marbury explained his affinity for since-fired Knicks coach Isiah Thomas (who would later lose the aforementioned sexual-harassment suit along with Madison Square Garden; feud with Marbury; and get canned) in oddly religious terms. Thomas, Marbury said, is "a man's man — and he can see the light." Then he raised his eyes skyward. "And that light is that . . . you're going places?" guest host Bruce Beck asked gamely. "Hey, it's how people want to look at it," Marbury coyly answered.
Strangest of all, though, was Marbury's vivid recollection of a mysterious, sublime connection that he'd recently experienced with his sister, Stephanie. Here's how it went:
Swearing and Invective•Sports•National Football League•more >>
BECK: Are you comfortable being Steph these days? And is it fair to say you've grown in that regard?
MARBURY: Man . . . I grew so much. I mean, I had so many people that was praying for me and pushing for me. My sister been praying for me since I was born — my sister Stephanie, my namesake. . . . [My sister] been praying for this day forever, and it finally happened yesterday when I kissed her, and I felt her body and I felt her soul. I was delighted to be kissing her. I couldn't even cry, because I knew they were gonna be happy tears, so I was able to control them. You only really cry [with] the bad stuff.
The snide take on this exchange —Marbury kissed his sister, and dug it! — is good for cheap laughs. But something more perplexing actually seems to be at work here. It's evident that Marbury had a powerful emotional experience he wants to describe. It's also evident that he doesn't know how to explain himself in terms intelligible to the interviewer or the home audience — or anybody else. Moreover, he doesn't even comprehend the basic parameters within which the conversation is supposed to proceed. He seems to be speaking some sort of interplanetary Esperanto, equally unintelligible to the (mostly) white sportswriters who cover him and the (mostly) black athletes who are his peers. Or perhaps he suffers from an Asperger's-like condition that renders even the most mundane off-the-court interactions perilous.
Seen in this light, some of Marbury's stranger statements and actions take on a different look. After his banishment from the Knicks, for example, Marbury baffled pretty much everyone by attending a Knicks-Lakers game in LA; he sat courtside (not on the bench, but with his own paid-for ticket!), and spent a lot of time talking on his cell phone. Maybe Marbury was irked at the lack of support he'd received from his teammates during his ongoing feud with Knicks management, and wanted to **** with their heads. Then again, maybe he had nothing else to do — and literally couldn't fathom just how inappropriate and disruptive it was for him to be there.
Catch a falling star
In his interactions with the media, Marbury can oscillate between cooperative and combative with dizzying speed. He'll playfully giggle and allow certain lines of questioning — but then, seemingly for no reason, refuse to abide by others. With Beck on Mike'd Up, he bared his soul — then refused to do a closing lightning round packed with softball questions (e.g., will the Knicks be better next year?). Similarly, after showing New York's Craggs how he gets in touch with the Almighty, Marbury suddenly cut the writer off for contacting his assistant without his permission (which, as Craggs dryly noted, seemed backward).
But this past Friday, meeting the media with Celtics Coach Doc Rivers just after signing a contract and just before his Boston debut, Marbury gave those who dream of a happy marriage between "Starbury" and the C's absolutely nothing to complain about. Even when he was prodded about his past transgressions, the player's answers were the picture of pithy rationality. ("I'm human, I make mistakes, and I've learned from my mistakes," Marbury said at one point. "You just gotta keep on pushin' on.") Franchise win-wise, the Marbury era is off to a mixed start — as of this writing, the team is one and one since his arrival — but as far as the sporting public knows, Marbury himself has been a model teammate.
Given all this — and after watching Marbury flash his extremely disarming smile to the Celtics fans who gave him a standing O during his Friday-night debut — I recently found myself thinking that perhaps, unlikely as it seems, Marbury has actually gotten his **** together. I recalled a strangely touching moment from Marbury's Italian-vacation blog post: "I played with a six-year-old kid who loved basketball but said nobody would play with him. So I played with him two straight hours." And then — channeling my inner Barbara Walters — I wondered: "What if the Celtics are now playing the role of Marbury — and he's the lonely, hoops-happy six year old?"
And then I snapped out of it. For the Celtics' sake, and Marbury's, I truly hope he succeeds here. But Marbury has said all the right things before: in Minnesota, where he initially likened exec Kevin McHale to a surrogate father; when he was traded to the Nets, bringing him back near Coney Island; after joining Phoenix, when he claimed to be "rejuvenated"; with the Knicks, when he finally joined his real hometown team and got to play in Madison Square Garden.
If that doesn't happen here in Boston — and if the Celtics actually manage to win another championship this year — Rivers, the team, and Marbury himself will all deserve a great deal of credit. But I'd bet against this best-case scenario. New beginnings are Marbury's strong suit. It's what comes next that gives him trouble — and when the trouble starts, it tends to get very strange very quickly. So here's some friendly advice: brace yourself, Boston, for the next installment of the Starbury Show.
I'm tired,I'm tired, I'm so tired right now......Kristaps Porzingis 1/3/18
|
9/20/2009 10:43 AM
