AI has been in the sports news for a few days now because he took a leave of absence from his current team – the Memphis Grizzlies – for personal reasons; sports reporters tend to think his issues had to do with not being a starter for the team. Now the Internets are abuzz with rumors of his impending retirement. Drama drama drama.

But lost amidst the talk of the sky falling and the devil returning to steal our children, why isn’t anyone talking about how dope Allen Iverson was?

He doesn’t even break six feet and still managed to cop the Rookie of the Year, one MVP, and 4 scoring titles. He even single-handedly led a terrible 76ers squad the the NBA Finals. (How terrible? Matt Geiger got run on this team.)

But men in suits have been trying to dethrone AI as the king of the NBA for years, trying to replace him with blander-than-Corn Flakes Kobe Bryant or Lebron “Not a businessman, I’m a business, man” James. But those of us who know know that AI is the post-Jordan player.

He was drafted the summer before I went to college, so I’ve basically been watching him my entire adult life. And it was perfect timing too, because he still got to play against MJ when he was still, you know, worth playing. And we all know what happened, AI broke his ankles:

He’s easily the best little man since Isiah Thomas (I don’t want to hear John Stockton’s name right here…) – but check his online rep and you’ll find as much hate as love, probably more hate than love.

And the reason is because Iverson was and still is just too black. Yeah I said it. (more…)

For new readers (all 2 of you) and old readers (hi mom!), some background: I used to write about things I disliked in this space, and called it a series entitled “Sorry, You Suck” – but I’m switching the style. In my very last haterific edition of that series, I proclaimed ultimate suckage for myself and am now implementing a whole new M.O. here.

From now on, I’m gonna try talk about stuff I love. Solid.

Back in the day. Ice-T released a song called “99 Problems,” in which he talks about being a pimp and how various women in his employ – many referred to as “b-tch” – are not causing him problems. So the Jay-Z song of the same name uses a clever turn of phrase that is really not that clever after all, using each verse to refer to someone or something as a “b-tch,” but none of those times refers to a woman, instead it’s the music industry, a female police dog, and punk dudes. And while this does not represent a perfect upending of misogyny in our culture, it does indicate something.

On a meta level, it’s as though Jay is challenging the listener to hear the word “b-tch” and not assume its most sexist meaning; maybe it works, and maybe it doesn’t exactly work. Regardless, it can be seen as a response to the popular claim (made mostly by people who have never actually listened to hip hop) that rap music is all about b-tch this and b-tch that. Jay-Z was very aware of his standing as one of the few rappers mainstream America had heard of, so it was as though he wanted this song to be derided by cultural critics who would proclaim his sexism, only to be able to turn around and say I wasn’t talking about women; if you think that, maybe you’re the one with misogyny issues.

Clumsy as it may be, it’s an authentic attempt to stand up for hip hop culture by someone who was probably its best spokesman because he could speak the language of corporations and men in suits. (Check out his recent appearances on Letterman and Oprah if you don’t believe me.)

In addition, this track was produced by the one and only Rick Rubin, a producer who has worked with plenty of hip hop legends like LL Cool J, Run-DMC, and the Beastie Boys, but also with the most highly-regarded white folks in the industry like Johnny Cash, Tom Petty, Mick Jagger, and the Beastie Boys. In the documentary/concert film “Fade to Black,” we learned Jay recorded the whole joint in Rick Rubin’s West Coast mansion all surrounded by like bear statues and palm trees and Mike D of the Beastie Boys.

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