The Last of a Generation

Malone

Somewhere out there is a person who never got to see Karl Malone play basketball. Somebody missed out on the aggressive rebounding, sweet midrange touch and the way he always abused Dennis Rodman. Even worse, that person missed out on seeing the most beautiful pick-and-roll there’s ever been; when Karl and John Stockton showed everyone just how well they had mastered one of the oldest hoops tricks in the book.

Frankly, you have to feel sorry for that person. To see Karl, especially when he and Stockton were on the court together, was to see a sort of brutish poetry in motion; a practical mix of volatility and fluidity mixed together in this big bundle of emotion from the Louisiana backwoods.

Never mind the points or the numerous records Karl held. To appreciate him was to appreciate exactly how far the game had come since James Naismith first dreamed it up in Missouri. This was a massive wall of a man - 6-9, 250 plus pounds – but he had the touch of a guard with the feet of a ballerina. He was from a special generation of players who took the sport and turned it on its head, making it a place for only the most gifted athletes – no matter how tall or large they might be.

Now the Mailman has hung it up. The last of the Dream Teamers to call it a career (Christian Laettner not included) has made it official, despite recent rumors that he might’ve returned to make another run at an elusive championship.

Clyde Drexler

Remember the men of this era, the guys with the best nicknames? Air, Magic, Stock, Sir Charles, Dream, Clyde The Glide, Larry Legend, The Admiral, Ewing and the Human Highlight Reel. Now the Mailman closes the final chapter of their book, turning out the lights behind him.

It was a group of men who took the NBA into the stratosphere of popularity, who made young boys want to grow up to be 6-6 with a penchant for dunking. Even Stockton, the precocious point guard prodigy who was as quiet and reserved off the court as he was workmanlike on it, made youngsters fantasize about having that perfect chest pass one day.

Many of them were worthy of championships, some even seemed to deserve one, but Jordan hogged them in the 1990s. It didn’t seem to diminish them much, but maybe it increased Jordan’s luster. They wowed us with the way the dominated the world in grand fashion during the 1992 Barcelona Olympics. That tournament sealed the deal, these guys were the best in the world, something we suspected but hadn’t seen proved.

Wilt Chamberlain

So now the torch is officially passed on to Shaq, Kobe, LeBron, Yao, McGrady, Duncan, Amare and friends. Some even have notable nicknames – KG, AI, AK-47, Booze, Melo. Some of them are explosive and exciting and maybe even inspiring, just like those that came before them.

But just like an elderly man clamping his love to the era of Russell, Chamberlain, Cousy, West, Havlicek, Hayes, Big O, Pettit, Baylor and Lanier, we’ll take our personal favorite generation.

The purpose isn’t to argue about who’s generation is better, just who we love the most and who inspired us to fantasize we were something bigger, stronger, more graceful.

So to Karl and members of the Dream Team generation: thanks for the memories. Please come back around to show the news guys how to play the game right!

By Brandon Carter