Webber gone before he arrived

By Tim McManus


There was an overriding sense, almost from the minute he arrived in Philadelphia, that Chris Webber's spirit was elsewhere.

Maybe for a glimpse the entire man was front and center, as the thought of being teamed with Allen Iverson brought hope of a championship and a personal rebirth. But once the shine rubbed off and reality set in, the flame went out.

The lasting image of Webber as a 76er -- aside from a knee-less jumper from the elbow falling short -- will be from the countless press conferences following a loss, when you couldn't help but see how uncomfortable the former star forward was with his current situation.

Chin tucked close to chest, eyes darting anywhere but forward, body slightly slumped.

The words that came out were rarely controversial and often spoke of being committed to turning things around. There was always a sense, though, that his inner-dialogue was saying something completely different.

It seemed to speak of a career that didn't go like it was supposed to. Many more stops than planned. A few less personal achievments than hoped. Plenty of time near the top, but none at the summit.

And now, with his knees all but shot and his odometer getting ready to flip over, he found himself in a situation that left him farther from his goal than when he started his journey more than a decade ago.

Sometimes, the spoken word and the inner-dialogue appeared to converge.

"I hate losing. It makes you feel like a loser," he said.

And that feeling grew, hitting its peak earlier this season when Webber's minutes were slashed and his fourth-quarter privileges revoked.

Now he was not only on a bad team, but was being benched on a bad team.

The two voices again came together.

"I'm not going to keep playing like this."

And he didn't. Webber disappeared from the lineup, re-emerging on rare occassion when the landscape was altered and offered intrigue. He would play -- and sometimes play well -- until the realization kicked in that the outlook was still grim and the body still hindered.

Until ultimately, he decided his time in lower-purgatory had come to an end.

Shortly after Allen Iverson played his last game as a Sixer, Webber arose from a season-long funk to post 19 points, 11 rebounds and eight assists in 40 minutes as Philly was narrowly edged by the Magic.

Afterwards, with some vigor reinstilled, Webber proclaimed: "This is when your character is tested, when you go through certain situations. We've just got to keep fighting and stick together."

And yet those words proved hollow, as days later Webber would begin bartering with management to have his contract bought out.

There was an opportunity here for Chris, particularly once Iverson was traded, to put a stamp on his career by embracing the situation at hand. By being the calming force while an organization regained its footing.

But he never accepted his fate; spent almost the entire time here in a detached state, waiting for this stage of his career to be over so the real ending could begin.

And ultimately, that may be the legacy of Webber -- a star that often gazed outward instead of inward, leaving him just shy of his potential and championship hopes.

Just days ago, Maurice Cheeks defended Webber, saying: "Chris is a total professional. His injuries have set him back a little. But when he's here, he's with us.”

Problem was, he was rarely there.


Tim's column will appear on this page every Thursday. You can contact him at tmcm1997@yahoo.com