Would we remember Rasheed’s untrackable strengths differently if, say, he had averaged 20 and 10 over his career? If we weren’t faced with the question of “How did this guy become one of the most important and roundly discussed players in the league?” would we look at his skill set differently? This brings up something I call the Bruce Bowen problem. It’s what happens when we, who have been brought up to evaluate athletes through their numbers, fail at explaining why a certain player is held in high esteem. There’s no question that Bruce Bowen was an elite defender, but I also believe that if he could do something more than launch 3-pointers from the corner, his defensive skills would be looked at in a diminished light. The fact that Bowen could play 38 minutes for a championship team and only score, say, six points and grab four rebounds demands some explanation. And, fair or not, we tend to fill those explanations with “intangibles.” The late-career Rasheed Wallace, because of his centrality in basketball discussions and his lackluster stats, became defined almost entirely by his qualities as a teammate, his post defense, and his basketball smarts. I’m not saying this is right or wrong, but it always struck me as a bit of an overcorrection. Say what you will about the validity of the All-Defensive NBA team, but it’s still damning that Rasheed Wallace never made one. Every other elite-level defender in his era (Garnett, Duncan, Ben Wallace, Bowen, World Peace) made multiple first and second teams. He did make four All-Star teams, including in 2008, when he averaged 12.7 points and 6.6 rebounds per game. Chris Webber, who averaged 20 and 10 for his career and was clearly the best player on the Kings, only made five All-Star Games.
Those All-Star Game selections are the only hard evidence that Rasheed Wallace, basketball player, was something more than Otis Thorpe with range. All-Star Game selections, of course, are also highly subjective, and these say more about Rasheed’s standing within the league’s fraternity of players and coaches. Which brings us to a somewhat frustrating conclusion: There’s no real way to define Rasheed Wallace’s career, and, as such, he probably won’t be remembered as the outsize personality who put a urinal in his house in Portland, helped supplant the Kobe-Shaq dynasty, and single-handedly redefined the public perception of what makes a great NBA teammate. Those moments will ultimately be forgotten. His statistical record tells us even less. When evaluated within the context of basketball history, every player takes on some unwarranted or un-evidenced baggage — the negative space must be filled in with something. I can’t think of a player whose negative space shaded more positively. At first, Rasheed Wallace was given absolutely no rope, and then he finished his career with the benefit of every single doubt.
But maybe we’re right to side with Rasheed. Yes, the younger generation of NBA fans has probably pumped up his actual accomplishments and might remember him a bit too fondly, but that impulse came out of a collective frustration with the media’s inability to look much past the polarity of players who must either be “well-spoken” or “thugs.” By simply not caring what the media had to say about him, Rasheed forced a reevaluation of the characteristics that make a good basketball player, and, by extension, some necessary reflection on the type of thinking that would create a term like “Jail Blazers.”
Article First Appeared @http://www.grantland.com/story/_/id/7651790/a-los-angeles-lakers-rumor-spurs-writer-look-back-rasheed-wallace-nba-career