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http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/basketball/kings/story/12640337p-13494040c.html
Mark Kreidler: Fans' salute to Webber honors past greatness
By Mark Kreidler -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Tuesday, March 29, 2005
If they rose up to cheer the memory, it shows they were paying attention. It shows that they know the difference between the man they see today and the one who nearly carried their franchise to the blessed land just a couple of years ago.
All of which is to say, really, that Chris Webber isn't the only one who just got finished having an adventure.
There was a little love in the air at Arco Arena on Monday night, and it figures. If you focus on Webber through the prism of the classic Kings fan - long-suffering, formerly used to getting excited over how the draft lottery might turn out, able to recite Duane Causwell's blocks-per-minute ratio upon request - the only appropriate response to his pregame introduction as a member of the Philadelphia 76ers was the sustained and appreciative ovation that Webber received.
Webber was genuinely touched. Webber applauded right back. Webber then proceeded to require 26 shots to score his 20 points as his new team fell to his old one, the Kings pulling away in the fourth quarter for a 118-109 victory.
It was an almost perfect distillation of the reasons the Sacramento front office was ready to deal Webber at exactly the time the 76ers advanced an offer last month.
And, of course, it ran the risk of skewing the memory.
Let's face it: One of the real dangers of watching Webber from here on out in his career is going to be forgetting how good he was. Oh, he can still play; he'll never run the risk of humiliating himself on the court. Webber is too savvy, too basically talented and graceful for that.
Still, this is the post-surgical, diminished version of the Webber that was, and the Webber of a couple of years ago was another beast altogether. Ask the people who work and play for the Kings; they'll tell you the most heartbreaking aspect of the Webber story was realizing that the best of C-Webb had already come and gone - because it meant that the first ride on the roller-coaster was over. And first is almost always best.
"You look up, and Vlade's gone, Doug is gone, and now Chris is gone," coach Rick Adelman was saying the other day. "It was almost like the official end of the old team we had."
That part was a while in coming, actually. Doug Christie, after all, was playing on a bad wheel. Bobby Jackson got hurt once and then twice. Vlade Divac glimpsed the end of the line as a player. Peja Stojakovic, so often so brilliant during the regular season, slowly became a playoff suspect. Webber blew out his knee. Little by little, the Kings came to be more respected than actually feared.
But to watch Webber take the court Monday night was to be reminded, even if only until the game actually began, that it wasn't that long ago that words like "compulsively watchable" were routinely attached to stories about the team in Sacramento. It was the most magical transformation ever. Webber was the center of it.
He was that good, and he was that magnetic. He was explosive and had a killer smile and could run the floor, and back when it was Webber and Divac and the erratic wild child Jason Williams at the wheel, the Kings were just insanely fun to watch. They'd either score 113 or give up 115, but nobody - nobody - went home with nothing to say.
Along the way, Adelman's open-throttle offensive style became the personality of the team. Williams was nuts about half the time and charming the other half, and every possession was a thrill ride. Divac found a system in which his talents could be honored. Rogues like Vernon Maxwell passed through long enough to bomb three-pointers and run up the score.
And Webber just reigned. He was good enough to do that. Nothing seemed hard; nothing seemed out of reach.
"I want to keep these memories here in Sacramento as the best I've ever had," Webber said at one point after Monday's game. You looked up in the stands at Arco Arena, and it was blatantly obvious that the feeling was mutual.
There are two great truths as we squat here today: (1) The Webber trade made sense for the Kings on about a hundred different levels, and (2) That's not the same as saying it charted some bold new path. It was a trade. Trades get made in the NBA. The only business in this league is bloodless business.
But Webber's departure also made it final that the Kings are again in open country. They are a team without a collective personality, and once they had one, and it was hilarious and cool, and it suggested that every possibility, even a shot at the NBA title, was at least worth talking about. The Webber they cheered Monday night was the one in the memory, because he was always, always worth talking about. He's Philadelphia's talking point now. The new Kings? A conversation in progress.
Mark Kreidler: Fans' salute to Webber honors past greatness
By Mark Kreidler -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Tuesday, March 29, 2005
If they rose up to cheer the memory, it shows they were paying attention. It shows that they know the difference between the man they see today and the one who nearly carried their franchise to the blessed land just a couple of years ago.
All of which is to say, really, that Chris Webber isn't the only one who just got finished having an adventure.
There was a little love in the air at Arco Arena on Monday night, and it figures. If you focus on Webber through the prism of the classic Kings fan - long-suffering, formerly used to getting excited over how the draft lottery might turn out, able to recite Duane Causwell's blocks-per-minute ratio upon request - the only appropriate response to his pregame introduction as a member of the Philadelphia 76ers was the sustained and appreciative ovation that Webber received.
Webber was genuinely touched. Webber applauded right back. Webber then proceeded to require 26 shots to score his 20 points as his new team fell to his old one, the Kings pulling away in the fourth quarter for a 118-109 victory.
It was an almost perfect distillation of the reasons the Sacramento front office was ready to deal Webber at exactly the time the 76ers advanced an offer last month.
And, of course, it ran the risk of skewing the memory.
Let's face it: One of the real dangers of watching Webber from here on out in his career is going to be forgetting how good he was. Oh, he can still play; he'll never run the risk of humiliating himself on the court. Webber is too savvy, too basically talented and graceful for that.
Still, this is the post-surgical, diminished version of the Webber that was, and the Webber of a couple of years ago was another beast altogether. Ask the people who work and play for the Kings; they'll tell you the most heartbreaking aspect of the Webber story was realizing that the best of C-Webb had already come and gone - because it meant that the first ride on the roller-coaster was over. And first is almost always best.
"You look up, and Vlade's gone, Doug is gone, and now Chris is gone," coach Rick Adelman was saying the other day. "It was almost like the official end of the old team we had."
That part was a while in coming, actually. Doug Christie, after all, was playing on a bad wheel. Bobby Jackson got hurt once and then twice. Vlade Divac glimpsed the end of the line as a player. Peja Stojakovic, so often so brilliant during the regular season, slowly became a playoff suspect. Webber blew out his knee. Little by little, the Kings came to be more respected than actually feared.
But to watch Webber take the court Monday night was to be reminded, even if only until the game actually began, that it wasn't that long ago that words like "compulsively watchable" were routinely attached to stories about the team in Sacramento. It was the most magical transformation ever. Webber was the center of it.
He was that good, and he was that magnetic. He was explosive and had a killer smile and could run the floor, and back when it was Webber and Divac and the erratic wild child Jason Williams at the wheel, the Kings were just insanely fun to watch. They'd either score 113 or give up 115, but nobody - nobody - went home with nothing to say.
Along the way, Adelman's open-throttle offensive style became the personality of the team. Williams was nuts about half the time and charming the other half, and every possession was a thrill ride. Divac found a system in which his talents could be honored. Rogues like Vernon Maxwell passed through long enough to bomb three-pointers and run up the score.
And Webber just reigned. He was good enough to do that. Nothing seemed hard; nothing seemed out of reach.
"I want to keep these memories here in Sacramento as the best I've ever had," Webber said at one point after Monday's game. You looked up in the stands at Arco Arena, and it was blatantly obvious that the feeling was mutual.
There are two great truths as we squat here today: (1) The Webber trade made sense for the Kings on about a hundred different levels, and (2) That's not the same as saying it charted some bold new path. It was a trade. Trades get made in the NBA. The only business in this league is bloodless business.
But Webber's departure also made it final that the Kings are again in open country. They are a team without a collective personality, and once they had one, and it was hilarious and cool, and it suggested that every possibility, even a shot at the NBA title, was at least worth talking about. The Webber they cheered Monday night was the one in the memory, because he was always, always worth talking about. He's Philadelphia's talking point now. The new Kings? A conversation in progress.
