- [Clara] Allen Iverson and Larry Brown's relationship
on the Philadelphia 76ers was cyclical.
They'd feud to a breaking point,
win some games and plaster on a friendly smile,
then feud to a new and different breaking point.
And for six long seasons, they could not escape that cycle.
Tuck a napkin into your shirt. This beef gets messy.
Allen Iverson was chosen first overall
by the Philadelphia 76ers in the '96 draft.
Winning only 18 games the previous season,
the Sixers needed a star to infuse life into the franchise.
And Iverson was better than Philly could've imagined.
The guy was perhaps the quickest in the league.
He could duck and weave and elevate
and cross up Michael Jordan.
Yeah, he had critics.
He was a shoot-first, pass-second point guard.
But the Sixers didn't care.
The GM said Iverson didn't need to pass.
Hey, if he can get open and finish, why not?
Well, there was one small problem.
The Sixers only won 22 games all season,
so something had to change.
Time for a new coach and GM.
The Sixers went with Larry Brown for two roles,
head coach and director of basketball operations.
Iverson wasn't thrilled.
While we know Brown is a Hall of Fame coach,
back in 1997, he was ringless,
and had a reputation as a bit of a vagabond.
He coached eight teams over 25 years,
two of which he left midseason
in a "was he fired or did he quit?" kinda way.
He had a track record of getting a little emotional
with his players.
He kicked a kid off the UCLA team for an attitude problem.
And with the Nuggets, he tried to take back a trade
when new acquisition George McGinnis wouldn't play his way,
which Brown refers to as simply "the right way,"
implying all other ways are wrong.
Brown's "the right way" consisted of team basketball
with a focus on defense, self-sacrifice,
and passing, passing, passing.
Huh.
That's different.
Brown was aware of the dichotomy
between Allen's rookie year and what he wanted.
But who knew how it'd play out?
Badly. Badly right away.
Brown spent all of training camp
trying to get Iverson to pass more.
Iverson was irritated and expressed that
during a shootaround before an exhibition game.
Every time the trainer passed him the ball,
Iverson wouldn't shoot.
Instead he'd wildly and blindly
pass the ball at his teammates
while yelling, "I'm Muggsy Bogues! I'm Muggsy Bogues!"
Funny?
Yes, absolutely.
A good way to let off steam?
Yeah, I bet it was satisfying.
A good way to get your coach
to understand your point of view?
Maybe not.
Another problem the coach and star soon discovered:
they had opposite attitudes toward practice.
Iverson was often late or skipped altogether,
whereas Brown loved practice
and set his clocks 20 minutes early
to ensure he'd never be late.
To anything.
When AI did go to practice, he'd do stuff like...
During team push-ups, he'd flop around
like he was swimming place to get a laugh.
Whereas Brown spent practices focusing on every detail.
He'd stop a play to move a guy a few inches.
So, different.
With the team doing poorly, Brown soon began
what would quickly become a tradition for him and Allen:
fighting through press clippings.
He stirred rumors that he might trade Iverson.
Iverson. Last year's Rookie of the Year.
The guy Philadelphia had been so glad to get.
Brown also criticized Iverson for not playing,
Hank Hill voice, "the right way."
This quote was after a bad loss to Houston
in which Allen shot a lot, 3 for 14,
and passed a little, no assists in the second half.
In March, after another big loss,
Brown and Iverson engaged in a multi-day back-and-forth
which was basically Brown saying Iverson should play his way
and Iverson vaguely threatening to leave Philly.
It was hard to see how they could go forward...
Oh. Nevermind.
Three days later, Allen played well
and that's all it took to settle down the beef.
The Sixers finished the year 31-51.
Not great, but an improvement.
And best of all, Brown and Iverson
were cruisin' along Friendship Boulevard
with the wind in their hair.
The following season, Brown even shifted Iverson to the 2
where he could be a shoot-first shooting guard.
Perfect.
It worked for both team and player.
That's right: a winning record for the old black and gold.
Put the pedal to the metal,
there's no speed limit on Friendship Boulevard.
There are some sharp curves though.
A week after praising Allen,
Brown was back to condemning him for selfish play.
What happened?
Well, the Sixers lost three in a row,
and also, Iverson skipped a practice.
Instead of telling the team himself,
he had his bodyguard call in his absence.
Which further pissed Brown off.
Their feud made its way onto the court in April.
Losing at home to the Cavs,
Allen went 0-7 from the field in the first quarter,
and Brown benched him.
After a few minutes, he called for Iverson to go back in.
As AI walked to the scorers' table,
he said, "It's about fucking time,"
which is really not the best way
to say you agree with someone's decision.
Brown sent Iverson back to the bench.
Iverson was so mad he nearly left at halftime,
but teammates were able to talk him down
to simply refusing to play in the second half
and blaming it on injury.
Oof. How are they ever gonna repair this relation...
Oh.
Success.
Philly finished sixth in the East,
Iverson won the scoring title,
and the adversaries claimed peace.
It wouldn't stick.
The 2000 season saw early losses and reheated beef.
It's gotta be getting pretty dried out at this point, no?
When Brown benched Iverson for nearly an entire half
during a blowout loss to Detroit,
it was the final straw for Iverson.
He wanted out of Philly.
That reaction was the final straw for Brown.
He wanted Iverson gone.
Hard to see how a winning streak
would be enough to fix things this time.
President Pat Croce agreed with me and stepped in.
He called a meeting between the unhappy duo.
It was hostile,
but Croce was able to get both guys
to see the big issue was respect.
They both wanted it and they both weren't giving it.
After a few hours, they said,
"All right, we can play together."
Another makeup, but this one was built
on substance and mediation, not just a win or two.
Though probably helped they immediately got a win,
a thrilling one-point overtime victory over Detroit.
Allen had 32 points and tossed seven assists,
and the final shot for the win?
Iverson passed it and let someone else be the hero.
Talk about unselfish. Just like Brown likes.
I think these two are gonna be okay.
Two months later.
Brown held a couple team meetings
all about sacrifice, dedication, and putting the team first.
Great, no problem there.
The team traveled to Miami to play the Heat.
Uh-huh, good, that's fine.
Allen stayed out late partying
and then called in sick to the shootaround.
There it is.
Brown couldn't handle Iverson ditching
right after meetings about putting the team first.
Management suspended Iverson.
That didn't go over well with Iverson.
What the hell? He called in sick.
Was he being suspended for being sick?
And the suspension certainly didn't make him contrite.
The two remained at odds throughout the postseason.
Brown drew up plays that Iverson ignored.
Out in the second round,
Brown said Iverson should play "the right..."
Blah-blah-blah, you know his line.
In the offseason, Brown considered leaving to coach UNC.
AI gave him a little push in the direction of the door,
but Brown ultimately turned down his alma mater,
perhaps 'cause it'd be a rather large salary hit.
He'd stay in Philly, but Iverson wouldn't.
Brown crafted a six-team, 24-player trade
that would send Iverson to Detroit.
With it looking like a done deal,
Croce called Iverson to break the news.
Iverson begged to stay and promised to change.
He didn't go so far as to say
he could travel to Miami without partying,
but he implied it.
Unfortunately, it was too late.
There was nothing Iverson or Croce could do.
There was, however,
something Sixers center Matt Geiger could do.
He was part of the trade,
supposed to go to Detroit with Iverson,
but he wouldn't waive his no-trade clause.
So the whole deal was canceled,
dooming Brown and Iverson to another season together.
Brown spent the rest of the summer
complaining about Iverson.
It was getting old.
He was an assistant coach on the Olympic team,
still talking about practice attendance.
It made people wonder, was he being mean
to get Iverson to demand a trade?
If so, it wasn't gonna work.
Iverson didn't wanna be traded,
and he stayed true to what he told Croce on the phone.
He became a model player.
And, uh, listening to Brown paid off.
With the best record in the league,
Larry Brown and Allen Iverson
were perched atop Friendship Cliff,
peering over the edge, saying, "Wow, we're high up."
A bad mid-December loss to Dallas
sent them careening down the mountain.
After the game, Brown laid into his team.
And Iverson pushed back.
They had the best record in the league. Come on.
The next morning, at a team breakfast,
Allen picked the argument right back up.
Fun having Iverson at every practice and team event, huh?
Brown expected other players to come to his defense,
but nobody did.
Not even when Iverson told Brown
he was "whining all the time like a little bitch."
Brown took it hard.
He didn't show at practice the next day.
His wife called in to say he was too emotional to attend.
Wow, a little ironic,
having someone else call in with an excuse,
just like Iverson did.
Maybe we see things from someone else's perspective...
Not now, Clara!
This was serious! Brown was ready to quit.
But perhaps he realized that if he walked away
from the league's best team in the middle of the season,
it'd wreck his career.
The whole vagabond label would stick.
So he came back and the enemies made up,
because winning tends to improve one's mood.
Maybe they'd stay pals this time.
Don't call me naive. Call me hopeful.
And pretty.
Brown and Iverson were teamed up for the All-Star Game
and Iverson won MVP.
Upon accepting his trophy,
there was someone he wanted to share it with.
- Um...
Where my coach? Where my coach?
Coach Brown?
- [Clara] Philadelphia finished first in the East,
Brown won Coach of the Year, Iverson won MVP,
and Brown was nice in the press.
Okay. Playoffs.
Game 1, Round 1, the Pacers stifle Iverson.
But Game 2? He's back, baby.
How'd he do it?
Brown drew up some new plays to help him out
and they went over them at...
That's right, practice.
Philly made it all the way to the Finals,
where the underdogs stole a game.
Iverson and Brown were sailing the SS Friendship,
a boat built on winning and success and a Finals berth.
Surely nothing could sink it.
Not Iverson purposely delaying surgery
so he'd miss training camp the following season.
That was just something for Brown to joke about.
Splish-splash! Toot-toot!
It's all laughs aboard SS Friendship.
But losses upon losses
started boring holes in the bottom of the boat,
and apparently Iverson was shoveling water aboard.
He wasn't coming to practice anymore.
Or if he did, he came late, smelling of alcohol.
By mid-December, Brown was back in the press
with his old refrain.
Iverson hit him back.
Two days later, when AI was late to a shootaround,
Brown kicked him out.
They took that energy to the playoffs and lost Game 1.
Iverson struggled.
But hey, last year,
when Iverson struggled in the opening round,
they worked together at practice and fixed everything.
How'd practice before Game 2 go this year?
Iverson didn't show.
Er, he did.
But he just ran up and down the court a few times?
Did it...
Did it help?
No.
And we get another back-and-forth in the press.
The Celtics eliminated the Sixers in a Game 5 blowout,
taking down the reigning Eastern Conference Champs 120-87.
Humiliating, for all involved.
Like, I bet even the Celtics were a little embarrassed.
Iverson skipped his exit interview with his head coach,
so Brown complained about his practice attendance
and said Iverson could be traded.
Brown and Iverson had another meeting,
who knew the power of meetings,
which again ended in a truce.
Iverson wasn't gonna be traded.
The organization called a press conference
for AI to announce that fact
and then quickly step away from the mic
without saying anything else
and certainly not slipping into
a 30-minute stream of consciousness
that even a Sixers PR rep was powerless to stop.
It did not go according to plan.
- I'm supposed to be the franchise player
and we're in here talking about practice.
- Well, Coach- - I mean, listen.
We're talking about practice.
Not a game. Not a game.
Not a game.
We're talking about practice.
Not the game.
We're talking about practice, man.
I mean, how silly is that?
Man, we're talking about practice.
- [Clara] This press conference
is the most famous press conference in sports
and it's what Allen is most known for.
Not his 2001 Finals performance,
not his MVP award,
but rather, talking about practice in the media,
a conversation Brown started and perpetuated.
The 2003 season saw familiar drama
from the start to the bitter end.
In Game 6 of the Eastern Conference Semis,
with elimination on the line,
AI showed up just 32 minutes before tip-off.
He blamed traffic,
and later switched his excuse to a flat tire.
Philly lost; the season ended.
This time Brown didn't go off in the press.
Didn't even seem annoyed.
Did he forgive Allen? Or was he just tired of fighting?
Turns out the latter.
After the 2003 season, Brown quit.
And immediately won a championship with Detroit.
Good for him.
Iverson had less fun,
burning through a few coaches in Philly,
eventually get traded and traded again,
missing practices and refusing to come off the bench
until no team wanted him.
Many years later, Brown partially blamed himself
for Iverson's career petering out.
- [Larry] When I look at Allen's career and realize...
I think he only played 12 years.
I think of what he could've done
if I'd have done a better job of making him understand
the gift he had and the responsibility he had.
- [Clara] And at the time, he tried to help,
lobbying different teams to take Iverson, but to no avail.
With hindsight, Brown was able to look back
and see his relationship with Iverson differently.
Coaching Iverson was his calling.
If only he'd understood that at the time.
Hindsight helped Iverson
reevaluate the relationship as well.
When he was named to the Hall of Fame in 2016,
Iverson said he wished he could've accepted
what Brown had been trying to tell him
all those years in Philadelphia.
And he too evoked a higher power
to describe what could've been.
They both wanted the same thing,
success for their team,
for Iverson to dominate the league
for years and years and years,
but beef got in the way of their shared goal,
often making them forget they had a shared goal altogether.
We call that beef poisoning.
And it's just nice they both managed to recover.
Thank you for watching, everybody.
If you liked this video, and I sincerely hope you did,
just for my own self-esteem,
here are a couple more videos you might like.
Don't forget to subscribe, and till next time,
for Secret Base, I'm Clara Morris.
Goodnight and good game.