The NBA Finals: The Lakers Vs. The Pacers Shaq Opens Up

He's too large for this photo. He's too strong for the NBA. Is the rapping, Aristotle-quoting Shaquille O'Neal big enough to replace M.J. in our hoop dreams?

  • Share
  • Read Later

(4 of 4)

What connects Jordan and O'Neal--and makes O'Neal into a similarly iconic presence--is an almost ineffable quality to their play. Both are able to impose their will on games in ways that go beyond stats, beyond predictions and projections. There was a virus-ravaged Jordan in Game 5 of the 1997 finals, scoring 38 points to give his team the win. Or O'Neal, in Game 4 of this year's Western Conference final against Portland, fouled repeatedly by the Trail Blazers (a strategy called Hack-a-Shaq), hitting nine foul shots in a row despite his history as a horrible free-throw shooter. True sports greats surprise us, exceeding our high expectations.

Yet basketball stars, no matter how great their height or extravagant their talent, need teammates to step up if they want to become champions. Every NBA championship squad in recent memory has featured at least two superstars; no player can do it alone. Every Jordan needs a Pippen. Every Olajuwon needs a Drexler. Every Shaq needs a Kobe. The star adapts his talent for the good of the team; the other players learn from his example. He needs them--the fellow star, the role player, the Steve Kerr taking a pass from Jordan and knocking down the shot, the Brian Shaw coming off the bench and raining down threes.

And the viewer, watching at home, seeing even Goliath reach out for help, feels a little more needed, vicariously. As the Little Aristotle said 2,000 years ago, "Some drink together, others dice together, others go in for athletics...They seem to become even better men by exercising their friendship and improving each other; for the traits that they admire in each other get transferred to themselves."

That may be why there is one thing you won't find anywhere in Shaq's 15,000-sq.-ft. mansion high above Hollywood, nor in the secret apartment he sometimes escapes to along a sugary swath of beach just south of Los Angeles: a trophy. "My dad never [displayed] any trophies," says O'Neal. "Neither do I. I don't want to look like I'm satisfied." It's all about the team for him now. It's all about winning. Someday soon, though, if the Big Aristotle successfully completes his playoff drive, he just may want to clear away a little room in a display case for a memento to remember this season by: a championship ring.

  1. 1
  2. 2
  3. 3
  4. 4
  5. Next Page