El Amor: Allen Iverson is Che Guevara

Inspired by Bethlehem Shoals' statement that "Jordan was a sales pitch, Iverson a doctrine" and Allen Iverson's personal testimony that "In my heart, I know I'm a basketball player."

D, who works at a hotel in DC, describes Allen Iverson walking through the hotel's lobby this past season as the following: "He's the most ghetto dude in the NBA. He comes through in a wife beater, basketball shorts, socks, and sandals, holding a bottle of champagne like this," D puts a fist up in the air, as if he were on the gold medal stand in Mexico City 1968. Replace the bottle of cristal with a rifle, and one would have the movie poster for Stephen Soderburgh's 2008 film Che. That clinched fist is what holds the symbolism of a basketball revolutionary and a Marxist revolutionary together, grinding their images down into their most base ingredients, pestle and mortar style, so that anyone can take those ingredients and make what they will out of them. Men who live as symbols often lose control of their symbolism.

Admittedly, the idea of comparing a basketball player to a Communist soldier is a bit of a stretch, especially when that basketball player is best known for his individual virtuosity and Communism, as an ideal, would deny recognition of such feats. The comparison becomes even more tedious when one recalls the basketball player's disdain for practice, while Che Guevera would spend years planning how to overthrow the Bolivian government and months training in South American jungles. Allen Iverson's dominance of the ball, 22 FGA for his career, even places him at odds with Che Guevara's aims to redisperse land and property throughout the Third World.

At first glance, it definitely appears that Che Guevara's revolution would not allow for the individual expression of an Allen Iverson, except that Allen Iverson's individual accomplishments, in his mind, were all done for the benefit of the team: "Once I stop being aggressive on the basketball court, I'll be hurting my team more than helping them." AI averaged so many shots for his career because that's how he felt he could help his team win. During the 26th of July's overthrow of Batista, Che famously put down his medical bag and picked up a rifle, adapting himself to the needs of his situation, by going from healer to killer. Che's assertion to become a guerrilla gunner is what led him down the path to become Comandante. AI, in turn, became an NBA gunner because in high school and while at Georgetown he was the only viable scorer; yesterday's circumstances create the habits of today.

When Che embarked on a motorcycle journey throughout Latin America, the extreme poverty he witnessed changed his worldview. He began to see the need for a united Latin America, and he felt the pull in his heart to help the impoverished. AI grew up without running water, on a concrete slab, and was surrounded by violence. To AI, the pressures of a basketball game were slight; he'd already seen the worst of life in America, giving his game a militant chip on its shoulder. When AI crossed up Michael Jordan, he made a pivotal statement that meant more than just a possible changing of the guard on the basketball court. AI, soon to be tattooed and braided, crossed up a man, in possession of no political convictions, because political convictions might interfere with one's commercial appeal. Then, take into account that the media, in the '90s, viewed Jordan as the apex of "the right way" meeting sheer talent, complete with "the right way" stamp of approval from Dean Smith, while Allen Iverson came from the kente-cloth-wearing school of John Thompson, and one begins to realize that the crossover represented some of the class warfare that exists within the African-American community. AI assaulted the clean-cut image that the black bourgeoisie worked to construct in the public arena, which, much like the effects of landing on the Cuban shore, made him a hero to some and a villain to others.

AI's intentional statements on the basketball court became secondary to his unintentional statements off it, meaning that over time his tattoos, braids, actions with firearms, misogynistic rap lyrics, and refusal to practice became louder than his ability to carry Philly teams that weren't that talented into the playoffs. The same can be said of Che Guevara, whose violent actions often undermine his idealism. When asked if Cuba would continue to execute political prisoners, Che responded, "We execute and will continue to execute." Cuba and Che did not care about outward appearances, whether true or not, and AI stood on the same uncompromising ground when he responded to the NBA dress code by saying, "They're targeting guys who dress like me.... Put a murderer in a suit, and he's still a murderer." AI did not say he was a murderer, but, with that statement, he did admit he looks like one and that, no matter what he might wear, his actions would remain the same. Some people hear these statements and begin to fear that all that is good and normal about society will come crashing down, while others hear someone who will heroically stand by their doctrines until death takes them; "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter."

Che Guevara was good as a revolutionary fighter but not as a governing figure, and the same could be said for the entire 26th of July movement; Fidel could take over an island, but he never knew how to govern it. Communist governments turn into the tyranny they initially despised and fought against. Che grew tired of his role in government and left Cuba, writing, "Other nations summon my modest efforts of assistance." Che then left to lead an unsuccessful revolt in the Congo, before returning to Cuba one last time. In his last visit to Cuba, the Argentine disguised himself and left for Bolivia incognito, where his efforts failed to grasp the hearts and minds of the Bolivian peasants; something the AI of the last couple seasons failed to do also. Bolivian soldiers executed Che, helping him to fulfill his words, "In a real revolution, one either wins or dies." Che died; the revolution was real. The reality of AI's revolution is still up in the air, like fog, or smoke, or one's breath in winter.

The height of AI's popularity came in 2001. He had more street credentials than any NBA player in recent memory because for four seasons he was the most productive anti-establishment figure in the League, and, when he took the Sixers to the Finals, he gained the attention and respect of the League's establishment, proclaiming the official end of the Jordan-Batista regime. The problem was that AI, being Che, was not good as a ruling member of the League. The most damage done to Che's reputation was his handling of the post-revolution trials, where he sentenced countless people to death by firing squad. In his post Finals years, AI's actions began to grow burdensome on the city of Philadelphia, and it was time to go. Denver was his Congo; nothing really amounted to anything there, despite AI's enthusiasm to tutor a young Carmello Anthony in the ways of La Revolucion. Supply lines were lost, and radio transmissions were intercepted; so AI was on the move once more.

The real debate now turns to whether Iverson's time in Detroit was his Bolivia or was it just a stopover in Cuba on his way to Bolivia. If it was his Bolivia, then Iverson is now entirely irrelevant, and it happened overnight. For most of Che's tenure in Bolivia, it was unclear whether he was actually in the country or not, much like Iverson's appearances with the Pistons. If Iverson died in Detroit, then it was not a death to inspire martyrdom, but a death that his critics can savor because he went down without a struggle, not showing up to the games with the attitude that he would die a hero's death, which makes one believe that Iverson did not die in Detroit because Iverson was always willing to take the extra hit and get up from it. He was into proving the possibility of impossible physics; human flesh and a rifle defeating the gears of helicopters and tanks; the peasant over the aristocrat.

Iverson's past history suggests that he will get up from the Detroit debacle. In 2008, he still managed to put up 22.8 ppg, proving he still has basketball left to play. He went to Detroit, shaved off his braids, and he will resurface incognito with the Grizzlies or the Clippers or some other team that feels they need him; and he will go because "El Amor" is the most important quality for a revolutionary to possess. "A real revolutionary goes where he is needed," and basketball needs Allen Iverson to resurface and prove that his "El Amor" is true; otherwise, basketball fans just spent the last fifteen years duped by a false revolution.