In the end, A.I. is no B-Dawk

By Steven Lienert

Both were drafted within months of each other in 1996.

Both have the heart of champions, even though neither has delivered a title.

Both have taken inferior squads, grabbed them by the scruff of the neck and drug them to win after win after win.

One was the heart of Philadelphia. Now, the other is the heart of Philadelphia.

Because of a blizzard in Denver, Allen Iverson got to spend one more day in his adopted hometown here in Philly's suburbs. Not only will he ultimately be missed, but he will miss 76ers' fans as well.

Iverson was embraced by most of the city soon after he first donned a 76ers uniform. He was the little guy who's heart and desire made up for what he lacked in height. He was Rocky in basketball shorts -- and for Philly, it doesn't get much better than that.

We defended his cornrows and tattoos and looked the other way more than once -- after he pulled a gun on someone in an apartment building in lower Northeast Philly to letting his buddies park his Bentley in a handicapped parking spot.

Yes, A.I. was the best 76er of his generation. But he's a Nugget now, like Steve Carlton was a Minnesota Twin and Jordan was a Washington Wizard. It just won't look right.

Iverson was Philadelphia. But Brian Dawkins, and everything this man stands for, is what Philadelphia looks to now. If A.I. weren't in Philly, Dawkins would have commanded this accolade long ago.

In the twilight of his career, after he has noticeably lost a step, Dawkins has risen to the forefront of the Eagles' resurgence. He single-handedly beat the New York Giants last week.

The man takes losing personally, and I love that. He will always be a lifelong Eagle -- he would never wear a Dallas star on his helmet or put on a Resdkins uniform. He hated having T.O. on the team before it was fashionable. The monster hits he delivered over the years will bring Eagles fans joy for years. He will die an Eagle.

But what I'll always remember first about B-Dawk was his unbridled joy after the Eagles finally won the 2004 NFC Championship. Terry Bradshaw stuck a microphone in his face just as Dawkins lifted the George Halas Trophy over his head. With tears streaming from his eyes, Dawkins let out the loudest Hallelujah the Linc has ever heard.

You could tell how much it meant to him -- for his teammates, for his family, for the fans, for the city and for himself.

Sure, Iverson connected with the fans because of his heart and style, but Dawkins brings substance that Iverson never could. Dawkins isn't pulling a gun on anyone. His friends aren't smoking weed in his car. He isn't going to get arrested.

Dawkins is the Eagles. He is their leader. He will never, ever abandon them.

And for everything he did during his 11-year career, the last thing Iverson did for the Sixers was leave them for dead.

For everything they have in common, Dawkins' character is what makes him different than Allen Iverson.

For that, Dawkins rightfully assumes the mantel as the face of Philadelphia sports.

Steve Lienert can be reached at stevelienert@hotmail.com