The Saga of the Pistons Versus the Sixers
GAME ONE
DETROIT______106
PHILADELPHIA_85
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 47 FGM-A: 9-22 3GM-A: 4-8 FTM-A 8-8 Rebounds: 1 Assists: 10 Personal Fouls: 2 Steals: 4 Turnovers: 7 Blocked Shots: 1 Points: 30
Allen Iverson flies in a jet, taking his team The Philadelphia 76ers to meet The Detroit Pistons (who are the Defending NBA Champions) on their homecourt in The Motor City.
So began GAME 1.
Allen Iverson lead his team on a fast-paced initial charge which saw them up by sixteen points in the early goings of the contest! The 76ers burst onto the court like lightning, dribbling like howitzers and cutting like fighter jets. Suffice it to say they were out on the fast-break! However, as the game progressed, the Pistons slow and unyielding machinations began to resemble the massive steel goliaths which manufacture automotibles in their hometown and they ground the game to a stand-still, instating the crushing gravity of their half-court mastery.
Despite Iverson's heroic efforts and forty-seven minutes of untiring play, his team was defeated, primarily due to being out-rebounded forty-eight to thirty-five. Together the gargantuan twins Rasheed and Ben retreived twenty rebounds, with each of the Wallaces obtaining an even ten.
After the game, Allen Iverson changed from his courtwear to a stylish suit and tie with seemingly impossible rapidity. He also wore blue-suede shoes. He walked out into the cool Detroit evening and arrived at the luxurious and well-appointed hotel before any of his teammates. He entered into the sanctuary of his private suite and locked the door, using both the regular lock and the brassy deadbolt chain. Alone inside, he removed a gleaming, jewel-encrusted dagger from a desk drawer and cut off his own ears. There was no blood and, as he laid his ears upon the desk, it became apparent that these were prosthetic ears made from wax. He removed two golden pins from the two fleshy folds tucked into the curves of his regal cornrows. Unencumbered, his natural ears sprung to attention, revealing themselves to be long and pointed. Subsequently, he removed two contact lenses with the tip of his finger. His natural eyes glowed a ghostly blue in the shadows of the unilluminated hotel room.
Afterwards, Allen Iverson retired to bed. He slipped his naked body between the 300-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets which one only finds at the finest hotels. He closed his eyes and hoped for a deep and rejuvenating sleep so that he would be able to arise early and begin practicing for the next game which would take place in three days time.
GAME TWO
DETROIT______99
PHILADELPHIA_84
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 42 FGM-A: 7-243GM-A: 1-5 FTM-A 4-5 Rebounds: 1 Assists: 10 Personal Fouls: 3 Steals: 3 Turnovers: 3 Blocked Shots: 4 Points: 19
There is a Palace set amongst Auburn Hills on the outskirts of the Motor City and in this palace collosal gladiators engage in titanic clashes. On this night, The Philadelphia 76ers once again challenged the Detroit Pistons. Game Two began as a comedy of errors for both sides with steals and turnovers aplenty, but after four minutes these great warriors steeled their nerves and settled into a rhythm. At the end of the quarter Allen's Sixers led 23-20.
Things began to slip away in the second quarter. Early in the quarter the gargantuan Ben Wallace obliterated a shot by Samuel Dalembert. With his ape-like hand and forearm he reduced the ball to a Fine Orange Mist containing the occasional Orange Smithereen. By half-time the Sixers were down by 8 points. Because of his ancestry, Allen Iverson sees time a little differently than the rest of us do and he was able to read his team's eventual, but inevitable, loss in this particular contest. Accordingly he began to distribute the ball and involve his teammates, building up their confidence for their return home in the next game. He intentionally missed shots, hoping his team would feel he had let them down and that their own play would have been enough to win. At the end of the game, his 7-24 shooting reflected his shrewd strategy to convince his teammates that their loss had not been inevitable. Even the Piston's cunning and sharp-eyed coach Larry Brown, did not see through Iverson's ruse and took the victory as a sign of his teams superiority.
After the game he once again showered and changed instantaneously, like a flipping coin. He retreated to the same hotel room and locked the same two locks. He removed his fake ears with the same blade and took out his contact lenses, dipping them into the dew-filled cups of two lush roses.
On his desk lay a letter, written in an elegant flowing hand on seemingly ancient parchment.
Number Three,
You, my third son, are my youngest and most beautiful son and I long for your presence in my court more and more with each passing day. Your brothers Taure and Baure are strong and handsome, but they lack you delicacy and delightful sense of humour. Please return to me post-haste.
How are your sporting contests amongst the humans? I cannot believe that you still haven't tired of these childish endeavours. Please return and take up the mantle of your heritage and help me to wage war upon our neighbours.
With you in both Love and War,
King Regalus Redwood
Fairy of Red
Allen Iverson pulled a small inkwell and a luxurious quill from the desk drawer. The quill was formed from the plumage of a bird whose impossible beauty was only hinted at in the colours and textures of that single, full and perfect feather. The ink glowed a faint but luminescent purple in the darkened suite. He touched the tip of the quill to the opposite side of the already crumbling sheet of parchment.
Father,
Tonight's contest was difficult. We were on the road and I have not had sufficient time to train these baskets to adapt to my shot. For this reason, I was unable to reform our destiny through sheer force of will and my team has come up short.
I know that human sports seem infantile and trivial to you, but to me they are innocent and beautiful. By dolling out salaries from it's seemingly limitless treasury, the National Basketball Association attracts the greatest champions from all corners of this planet. These champions engage each other in tests of skill night after night playing with great determination and heart. Clashing ferociously, sparks fly and tempers grow heated and yet each night, at the end of forty eight minutes, all the contestants return to their locker rooms in one piece. They enter into a most willful and honourable competition and yet no one dies, no one is mauled and none of their womenfolk become weeping widows. How can you fail to see the beauty in this?
Yours truly,
Prince Lapino
Son Number Three of the Fairy Red
PS -- I'll call you after the next game, when I'm back home in Philly.
Allen Iverson folded the sheet of parchment, removed a gorgeous glimmering stamp from his bureau drawer and affixed the stamp to the letter. He held the letter in two fingers and it burst into flames, instantly reducing itself to a cloud of ash and smoke, which was swirled up into a tiny maelstrom and flew from the window to seek out his father's court.
After mailing the letter, Prince Lapino slipped between the sumptuous sheets and slept deeply, sunk under melancholy indigo dreams of empty castles and corpse-strewn battlefields.
GAME THREE
PHILADELPHIA_115
DETROIT______104
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 48 FGM-A: 15-263GM-A: 2-4 FTM-A 5-6 Rebounds: 3 Assists: 15 Personal Fouls: 2 Steals: 2 Turnovers: 3 Blocked Shots: 0 Points: 37
The next game is fought at home in Philadelphia. Allen Iverson has spent long nights at the Wachovia Center, standing at center court, training these particular nets, his voice echoing in the cavernous darkness. Early in the game Allen Iverson begins to speak to one of the nets. He calls to it under his breath, whispering in a pitch audible only to dogs and basketball nets. The net grows as large as the sea and the ball falls between its coasts like rain. No one else sees the net's expansion, because it is bashful and innocent and loves only Allen Iverson. Eager for his touch, the net calls back to Allen Iverson, mimicking his tone as best it can. The net says to him, "swish, swish, swisshh, swish, swissshhh." At the end of the first Quarter, Allen Iverson leads the Detroit Pistons 32 to 24.
In the subsequent quarters, Allen Iverson continues to converse with the net. He puts in a good word for his teammates and acheives fifteen assists. Chauncy Billups seems disoriented and takes only eight shots in the entire game. On his homecourt, with his well-trained nets, Allen Iverson defeats the Detroit Pistons, infuriating their headcoach Larry Brown. He said "We had some open looks, but when you're fighting for your life, your open looks gotta come from inside, not outside." Allen Iverson already knew that. That is why he left the press conference and returned to his home.
He kissed his mortal wife and his halfling son Deuce and his halfling daughter Tiaura and retired to his private room.
His daughter asked, "What's in Daddy's Secret Room?"
His wife said, "I don't know."
His son said, "Can I go in there?"
His wife said, "Maybe when you're older."
Allen Iverson took off all his clothes and slipped into a solid gold bath filled to the brim with milk and honey. It began to glow softly, rejuvenating him and removing the stress and strain of an unheard of 48 minutes of play. Allen Iverson stepped out of the bath and dried himself with a towel. Allen Iverson has 21 tattoos. One displays the names of his son and daughter. One says VA's Finest and refers to the Vague Areas from which he hails. One says Jewels and refers to his great love of emeralds, rubies and saphires. One is an image of a skull in an army helmet to remind him of the horrible atrocities he has both witnessed and committed in times of war. One says "strength" in Sanskrit, it is a souvenir from his first trip to earth a sanskrit-speaking king gave it to him after a great battle of which we have no recorded history. One says "Dynasty Radaz," the nickname that he and his two brothers invented for themselves after the toppled the empire of Glantar the Barbaric. There are many more tattoos. The most recent says "Hold my own" and Allen Iverson had it done when he left the Vague Areas and came to earth as a child in 1975. It is the only tattoo which he was not yet visible when he emerged from the womb of Ann Iverson. Allan Iverson puts on a pair of silk pajamas.
Allen Iverson picks up a ornate bronze telephone with a cord that ends abruptly in the middle of the room.
He simply says, "Father?"
"Ah, Number Three. I'm glad you called."
"How are you father?"
"Fire still courses through my veins of course."
"That's good to hear."
"I truly wish that you would come home."
"I'm happy with my life on earth father, you know that."
"Yes, I know, but I was looking at your sword hanging on the wall of the dining hall this afternoon and I became misty eyed. When my eyes condensed again, I said to your mother, Oh I do miss Number Three, he used to swing that blade with such grace."
Allen Iverson, known to those in the Vague Areas as Prince Lapino, remembers feeling the weight of The Answer in his hand, the cool silver hilt against his palms, the heft of the sword, the crisp ringing of the perfectly straight edge, the smell of demon's blood.
"I miss you too Dad, maybe you could come here, I could show you around."
"I don't think that's possible, things are heating up in the Vague Areas. War could come within this Century. The Fairie Brown is amassing a great army and threatening to invade us. Are you sure you can't come?"
"I don't have the time."
"You know full well I have considerable power over chronological matters. If you could just give me five sequential earth days I could arrange things so that you could wage war at my side for five hundred years."
"I know dad, but it's the play-offs. I really want to win the lustrous and radiant Larry O'Brien trophy this year. It would break my heart to disappoint the Philadelphia fans."
"Very well Number Three, you are 18 000 years old now, you can make your own decisions."
"I appreciate that dad. That means a lot to me."
"You know number three, The Fairie Brown's armies are well-trained and very determined. You know as well as I that as a strategist he is peerless."
"You can handle it Dad."
"Number Three, don't tell your mother or your brothers, but this time I am frightened." Allen Iverson drops the phone. Before it hits the ground it grows wings and flutters upwards until it is hovering beside his ear.
"Please come back to me son."
"I, I don't know Dad. I'll think about it."
Allen Iverson hangs up the phone. He leaves his secret room, kisses his son and daughter goodnight and crawls into bed beside his wife and high school sweetheart Tawanna.
GAME FOUR
DETROIT______97
PHILADELPHIA_92 OT
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 53 FGM-A: 14-24 3GM-A: 4-7 FTM-A 4-4 Rebounds: 5 Assists: 8 Personal Fouls: 2 Steals: 1 Turnovers: 3 Blocked Shots: 1 Points: 36
In Game Four Allen Iverson comes out like gangbusters and the first Quarter ends with the Sixers leading. Chauncey Billups returns the favour and the Pistons take the lead by the Half. At the end of the third Quarter, the Sixers have clawed their way back and then exceeded the score of the previous champeens by a single point. Allen Iverson has been lighting up the net all night. Having inherited some of his Father's abilities, Allen Iverson is able to look at time as though it were spread out within space. He uses this power and the end of the third Quarter to take an overview of the game, the Basket appears to him as a pack of matches and he himself takes on the likeness of a flame thrower, blazing along the surface of the hardwood, causing the varnish to bubble and igniting all 18 matchheads/baskets in the pack at once.
Unfortunately, upon using this ability, his monk-like focus is slightly disrupted and he begins to contemplate his recent conversation with his Father. It disturbs him to remember his father, Regalus Redwood, the true Fairy Red, admitting fear. What could be more ominous? Gradually, Allen Iverson become as shook as the halfway crooks in the legendary track by Mobb Deep. In the closing three minutes of the game Allen Iverson takes only one shot. Thanks to repeated daggerings by Rip Hamilton, the Pistons manage to score one point more than the Sixers in the final Quarter of regulation time. The game is tied.
OVERTIME:
Overtime is a strange and egnimatical concept. What property or substance could be over and above time itself? Usually this bizarre and paradoxical arena is one in which Allen Iverson shines, but he during the Over Time he continues to dwell on his father's hesitant admission. It is damaging to any man to see his father display weakness or cowardice, but when your father is also the undisputed ruler of the entirety of the Vague Areas, it is truly earth(andthoseareasbeyondearthaswell)- shattering. Allen Iverson misses a shot in the opening seconds of Over Time and then he misses again. He does not have a single field goal in the duration of Over Time.
Distraught!, he returns to his home and speaks to his father on the same intricately carved, seemingly unplugged telephone.
"Hello Father."
"Hello Number Three."
"How are things in the Vague Areas?"
"We are living in troubling times my son. Dark forces are gathering around the Fairie Brown and I fear that an invasion may be imminent. Do you know Richard 'The Ripper' Camel-tongue?"
"Yes, is he not the demon who always rides into battle wearing a clear mask, because no artist was capable of imagining and executing a visage as frightening as his real face?"
"Yes that is he. He has joined with the Fairie Brown."
"These are indeed dark tidings father."
"And Sssuh Benwalla, do you know of him as well my son?"
"I know him all too well. When we were children, our governess Helen used to frighten us with old wive's tales of a Great Giant who ate up castles as if they were walnuts and slept resting his head upon the largest mountains."
"Benwalla is such a man and he too has allied himself with the Fairie Brown."
"Say that it is not so, I had always taken those stories to be too fantastic to be true."
"And son, do you know the Arch-duke Chance Buildups?"
"Yes father, he is the King of Luck and has mastery over fortune itself does he not?"
"It is as you say; he accumulates great reserves of luck and then blesses himself and his allies with it as he sees fit. As he is now our enemy as well, I can be certain that luck will not be on our side in this coming combat."
"Is it imminent?"
"It is emminently imminent."
"I am very sorry father, but I must go, I am bound by commitments to this mortal plane. Many young men and women look up to me and I cherish each and every innocent heart. I have moved past the macabre and saturnine ways of my youth."
"I need you at my side my son. I worry that the Vague Areas will be lost."
A single tear rolls down the right cheek of Allen Iverson.
"I must go father, Game Five will be upon me shortly."
Allen Iverson hangs up the phone and crawls into bed. He sleeps uneasily and dreams of the illustrious blade which now hangs unused on the wall of his father's dining hall. The Answer is eight feet long, forged from a mixture of molten steel and moonlight, and quenched in the blood of the last living Shadow Ogre.
THE FIFTH AND FINAL GAME
DETROIT______88
PHILADELPHIA_78
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 48 FGM-A: 14-30 3GM-A: 1-5 FTM-A 4-4 Rebounds: 1 Assists: 7 Personal Fouls: 3 Steals: 0 Turnovers: 4 Blocked Shots: 0 Points: 34
Allen Iverson's Sixers storm into the Palace hoping to preserve their playoff dreams. Things look good; near the end of the first Quarter they lead 24-17. Thanks to Allen Iverson indomitable will in a tight situation they continue to lead for most of the first three Quarters. With eleven minutes remaining in the game, coming down from a 3-point attempt, Allen Iverson breaks his ankle. Due to his remarkable pain threshold he is able to conceal the full extent of his injury from his team and the tens of thousands of fans watching at home in Philadelphia. Andre Iguodala replaces Allen Iverson, who then treats his own injury with a combination of King's Leaf and solemn prayers to Stilletta the Goddess of Feet and Ankles. He cunningly conceals the various magiks which he has wrought from the television cameras. In only 19 seconds he has made an almost complete recovery from what would have been a season-ending injury for a normal mortal and re-enters the game. In the remaining minutes he makes 3 shots and 2 free throws and also dishes 2 dimes. Despite his remarkable heroism and unvincelike invinceability, in his heart of hearts he knows that he has already decided to lose the game in order to save the Kingdom of Vague Areas, his childhood home and the seat of his father's Empire. Otherwise, we all know full well that Allen Iverson could not have been defeated.
In the postgame wrap-up, he appears confused, his mind is tied up with the unpleasant necessity of returning to a life of warfare. When asked how he feels, he wistfully remarks that he feels like doing it all again. Only you and I know how true this statement really is.
After the game, he steps the long-way through a shadow and appears in Philadelphia where a black Cadillac with tinted windows picks him up and takes him home. He enters his private sanctum and picks up his 'cordless' phone.
"Father, I will come to your aid."
"Oh, thank the four hundred heavens, this is the best news I've heard in a decade."
"I will arrive within your present month."
"You can leave that soon?"
"Yes I need only make a few phonecalls and pack a bag."
"Very good. Oh, one more thing, your cousin, the King of the Mermen, he has also concealed his true nature to play in your basketball league, is this not true?"
"I'm not sure, there's five immortals playing in the NBA this year."
"Hmm, well I could really use his assistance in this campaign. You know who I mean, the King Mackerel, Lord of All Mermen, he has the head of a gigantic catfish."
"Oh yeah, Tracy. No, the Rockets haven't been eliminated yet, so I don't know. I'll call him though. Maybe he'll throw the series too. The earth will come to understand our ways in time."
Allen Iverson hangs up his golden cordless and picks up a regular phone and calls yours truly.
"Matteus Von Mustard, I have a favour to ask you."
"By all means Allen, how can I be of service?"
He goes on to describe to me the ins and outs of his recent playoff series and the conversations with his father (and so, dear reader, you can believe what you read, for it is only one step removed from the lips of Iverson himself) and then asks if I can protect his family from any supernatural forces which might threaten them during his absence of five earth days, he informs me that I will not have to deal with earthly dangers because he has a "Thik Cru" which will look after them. As a billionaire, swashbuckler and paranormal investigator, I assure him that no otherwordly peril shall beset his family while he is gone.
And so, while the other eliminated players go off on vacation to Tahiti and Miami and the Bikini Atol, Allen Iverson slips out of our era and enters into the Vague Areas to ride at his father's side in a five-century battle against the Fairie Brown and his field generals Chance Buildups, Richard "The Ripper" Camel-Tonuge and Ssssuh Benwalla. Such is the life of a true hero. I hereby wish him whatever luck remains to him after Chance's meddling.
"Godspeed you Black Emperor's son, may you return to us for another illustrious season in the autumn!"
DETROIT______106
PHILADELPHIA_85
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 47 FGM-A: 9-22 3GM-A: 4-8 FTM-A 8-8 Rebounds: 1 Assists: 10 Personal Fouls: 2 Steals: 4 Turnovers: 7 Blocked Shots: 1 Points: 30
Allen Iverson flies in a jet, taking his team The Philadelphia 76ers to meet The Detroit Pistons (who are the Defending NBA Champions) on their homecourt in The Motor City.
So began GAME 1.
Allen Iverson lead his team on a fast-paced initial charge which saw them up by sixteen points in the early goings of the contest! The 76ers burst onto the court like lightning, dribbling like howitzers and cutting like fighter jets. Suffice it to say they were out on the fast-break! However, as the game progressed, the Pistons slow and unyielding machinations began to resemble the massive steel goliaths which manufacture automotibles in their hometown and they ground the game to a stand-still, instating the crushing gravity of their half-court mastery.
Despite Iverson's heroic efforts and forty-seven minutes of untiring play, his team was defeated, primarily due to being out-rebounded forty-eight to thirty-five. Together the gargantuan twins Rasheed and Ben retreived twenty rebounds, with each of the Wallaces obtaining an even ten.
After the game, Allen Iverson changed from his courtwear to a stylish suit and tie with seemingly impossible rapidity. He also wore blue-suede shoes. He walked out into the cool Detroit evening and arrived at the luxurious and well-appointed hotel before any of his teammates. He entered into the sanctuary of his private suite and locked the door, using both the regular lock and the brassy deadbolt chain. Alone inside, he removed a gleaming, jewel-encrusted dagger from a desk drawer and cut off his own ears. There was no blood and, as he laid his ears upon the desk, it became apparent that these were prosthetic ears made from wax. He removed two golden pins from the two fleshy folds tucked into the curves of his regal cornrows. Unencumbered, his natural ears sprung to attention, revealing themselves to be long and pointed. Subsequently, he removed two contact lenses with the tip of his finger. His natural eyes glowed a ghostly blue in the shadows of the unilluminated hotel room.
Afterwards, Allen Iverson retired to bed. He slipped his naked body between the 300-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets which one only finds at the finest hotels. He closed his eyes and hoped for a deep and rejuvenating sleep so that he would be able to arise early and begin practicing for the next game which would take place in three days time.
GAME TWO
DETROIT______99
PHILADELPHIA_84
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 42 FGM-A: 7-243GM-A: 1-5 FTM-A 4-5 Rebounds: 1 Assists: 10 Personal Fouls: 3 Steals: 3 Turnovers: 3 Blocked Shots: 4 Points: 19
There is a Palace set amongst Auburn Hills on the outskirts of the Motor City and in this palace collosal gladiators engage in titanic clashes. On this night, The Philadelphia 76ers once again challenged the Detroit Pistons. Game Two began as a comedy of errors for both sides with steals and turnovers aplenty, but after four minutes these great warriors steeled their nerves and settled into a rhythm. At the end of the quarter Allen's Sixers led 23-20.
Things began to slip away in the second quarter. Early in the quarter the gargantuan Ben Wallace obliterated a shot by Samuel Dalembert. With his ape-like hand and forearm he reduced the ball to a Fine Orange Mist containing the occasional Orange Smithereen. By half-time the Sixers were down by 8 points. Because of his ancestry, Allen Iverson sees time a little differently than the rest of us do and he was able to read his team's eventual, but inevitable, loss in this particular contest. Accordingly he began to distribute the ball and involve his teammates, building up their confidence for their return home in the next game. He intentionally missed shots, hoping his team would feel he had let them down and that their own play would have been enough to win. At the end of the game, his 7-24 shooting reflected his shrewd strategy to convince his teammates that their loss had not been inevitable. Even the Piston's cunning and sharp-eyed coach Larry Brown, did not see through Iverson's ruse and took the victory as a sign of his teams superiority.
After the game he once again showered and changed instantaneously, like a flipping coin. He retreated to the same hotel room and locked the same two locks. He removed his fake ears with the same blade and took out his contact lenses, dipping them into the dew-filled cups of two lush roses.
On his desk lay a letter, written in an elegant flowing hand on seemingly ancient parchment.
Number Three,
You, my third son, are my youngest and most beautiful son and I long for your presence in my court more and more with each passing day. Your brothers Taure and Baure are strong and handsome, but they lack you delicacy and delightful sense of humour. Please return to me post-haste.
How are your sporting contests amongst the humans? I cannot believe that you still haven't tired of these childish endeavours. Please return and take up the mantle of your heritage and help me to wage war upon our neighbours.
With you in both Love and War,
King Regalus Redwood
Fairy of Red
Allen Iverson pulled a small inkwell and a luxurious quill from the desk drawer. The quill was formed from the plumage of a bird whose impossible beauty was only hinted at in the colours and textures of that single, full and perfect feather. The ink glowed a faint but luminescent purple in the darkened suite. He touched the tip of the quill to the opposite side of the already crumbling sheet of parchment.
Father,
Tonight's contest was difficult. We were on the road and I have not had sufficient time to train these baskets to adapt to my shot. For this reason, I was unable to reform our destiny through sheer force of will and my team has come up short.
I know that human sports seem infantile and trivial to you, but to me they are innocent and beautiful. By dolling out salaries from it's seemingly limitless treasury, the National Basketball Association attracts the greatest champions from all corners of this planet. These champions engage each other in tests of skill night after night playing with great determination and heart. Clashing ferociously, sparks fly and tempers grow heated and yet each night, at the end of forty eight minutes, all the contestants return to their locker rooms in one piece. They enter into a most willful and honourable competition and yet no one dies, no one is mauled and none of their womenfolk become weeping widows. How can you fail to see the beauty in this?
Yours truly,
Prince Lapino
Son Number Three of the Fairy Red
PS -- I'll call you after the next game, when I'm back home in Philly.
Allen Iverson folded the sheet of parchment, removed a gorgeous glimmering stamp from his bureau drawer and affixed the stamp to the letter. He held the letter in two fingers and it burst into flames, instantly reducing itself to a cloud of ash and smoke, which was swirled up into a tiny maelstrom and flew from the window to seek out his father's court.
After mailing the letter, Prince Lapino slipped between the sumptuous sheets and slept deeply, sunk under melancholy indigo dreams of empty castles and corpse-strewn battlefields.
GAME THREE
PHILADELPHIA_115
DETROIT______104
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 48 FGM-A: 15-263GM-A: 2-4 FTM-A 5-6 Rebounds: 3 Assists: 15 Personal Fouls: 2 Steals: 2 Turnovers: 3 Blocked Shots: 0 Points: 37
The next game is fought at home in Philadelphia. Allen Iverson has spent long nights at the Wachovia Center, standing at center court, training these particular nets, his voice echoing in the cavernous darkness. Early in the game Allen Iverson begins to speak to one of the nets. He calls to it under his breath, whispering in a pitch audible only to dogs and basketball nets. The net grows as large as the sea and the ball falls between its coasts like rain. No one else sees the net's expansion, because it is bashful and innocent and loves only Allen Iverson. Eager for his touch, the net calls back to Allen Iverson, mimicking his tone as best it can. The net says to him, "swish, swish, swisshh, swish, swissshhh." At the end of the first Quarter, Allen Iverson leads the Detroit Pistons 32 to 24.
In the subsequent quarters, Allen Iverson continues to converse with the net. He puts in a good word for his teammates and acheives fifteen assists. Chauncy Billups seems disoriented and takes only eight shots in the entire game. On his homecourt, with his well-trained nets, Allen Iverson defeats the Detroit Pistons, infuriating their headcoach Larry Brown. He said "We had some open looks, but when you're fighting for your life, your open looks gotta come from inside, not outside." Allen Iverson already knew that. That is why he left the press conference and returned to his home.
He kissed his mortal wife and his halfling son Deuce and his halfling daughter Tiaura and retired to his private room.
His daughter asked, "What's in Daddy's Secret Room?"
His wife said, "I don't know."
His son said, "Can I go in there?"
His wife said, "Maybe when you're older."
Allen Iverson took off all his clothes and slipped into a solid gold bath filled to the brim with milk and honey. It began to glow softly, rejuvenating him and removing the stress and strain of an unheard of 48 minutes of play. Allen Iverson stepped out of the bath and dried himself with a towel. Allen Iverson has 21 tattoos. One displays the names of his son and daughter. One says VA's Finest and refers to the Vague Areas from which he hails. One says Jewels and refers to his great love of emeralds, rubies and saphires. One is an image of a skull in an army helmet to remind him of the horrible atrocities he has both witnessed and committed in times of war. One says "strength" in Sanskrit, it is a souvenir from his first trip to earth a sanskrit-speaking king gave it to him after a great battle of which we have no recorded history. One says "Dynasty Radaz," the nickname that he and his two brothers invented for themselves after the toppled the empire of Glantar the Barbaric. There are many more tattoos. The most recent says "Hold my own" and Allen Iverson had it done when he left the Vague Areas and came to earth as a child in 1975. It is the only tattoo which he was not yet visible when he emerged from the womb of Ann Iverson. Allan Iverson puts on a pair of silk pajamas.
Allen Iverson picks up a ornate bronze telephone with a cord that ends abruptly in the middle of the room.
He simply says, "Father?"
"Ah, Number Three. I'm glad you called."
"How are you father?"
"Fire still courses through my veins of course."
"That's good to hear."
"I truly wish that you would come home."
"I'm happy with my life on earth father, you know that."
"Yes, I know, but I was looking at your sword hanging on the wall of the dining hall this afternoon and I became misty eyed. When my eyes condensed again, I said to your mother, Oh I do miss Number Three, he used to swing that blade with such grace."
Allen Iverson, known to those in the Vague Areas as Prince Lapino, remembers feeling the weight of The Answer in his hand, the cool silver hilt against his palms, the heft of the sword, the crisp ringing of the perfectly straight edge, the smell of demon's blood.
"I miss you too Dad, maybe you could come here, I could show you around."
"I don't think that's possible, things are heating up in the Vague Areas. War could come within this Century. The Fairie Brown is amassing a great army and threatening to invade us. Are you sure you can't come?"
"I don't have the time."
"You know full well I have considerable power over chronological matters. If you could just give me five sequential earth days I could arrange things so that you could wage war at my side for five hundred years."
"I know dad, but it's the play-offs. I really want to win the lustrous and radiant Larry O'Brien trophy this year. It would break my heart to disappoint the Philadelphia fans."
"Very well Number Three, you are 18 000 years old now, you can make your own decisions."
"I appreciate that dad. That means a lot to me."
"You know number three, The Fairie Brown's armies are well-trained and very determined. You know as well as I that as a strategist he is peerless."
"You can handle it Dad."
"Number Three, don't tell your mother or your brothers, but this time I am frightened." Allen Iverson drops the phone. Before it hits the ground it grows wings and flutters upwards until it is hovering beside his ear.
"Please come back to me son."
"I, I don't know Dad. I'll think about it."
Allen Iverson hangs up the phone. He leaves his secret room, kisses his son and daughter goodnight and crawls into bed beside his wife and high school sweetheart Tawanna.
GAME FOUR
DETROIT______97
PHILADELPHIA_92 OT
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 53 FGM-A: 14-24 3GM-A: 4-7 FTM-A 4-4 Rebounds: 5 Assists: 8 Personal Fouls: 2 Steals: 1 Turnovers: 3 Blocked Shots: 1 Points: 36
In Game Four Allen Iverson comes out like gangbusters and the first Quarter ends with the Sixers leading. Chauncey Billups returns the favour and the Pistons take the lead by the Half. At the end of the third Quarter, the Sixers have clawed their way back and then exceeded the score of the previous champeens by a single point. Allen Iverson has been lighting up the net all night. Having inherited some of his Father's abilities, Allen Iverson is able to look at time as though it were spread out within space. He uses this power and the end of the third Quarter to take an overview of the game, the Basket appears to him as a pack of matches and he himself takes on the likeness of a flame thrower, blazing along the surface of the hardwood, causing the varnish to bubble and igniting all 18 matchheads/baskets in the pack at once.
Unfortunately, upon using this ability, his monk-like focus is slightly disrupted and he begins to contemplate his recent conversation with his Father. It disturbs him to remember his father, Regalus Redwood, the true Fairy Red, admitting fear. What could be more ominous? Gradually, Allen Iverson become as shook as the halfway crooks in the legendary track by Mobb Deep. In the closing three minutes of the game Allen Iverson takes only one shot. Thanks to repeated daggerings by Rip Hamilton, the Pistons manage to score one point more than the Sixers in the final Quarter of regulation time. The game is tied.
OVERTIME:
Overtime is a strange and egnimatical concept. What property or substance could be over and above time itself? Usually this bizarre and paradoxical arena is one in which Allen Iverson shines, but he during the Over Time he continues to dwell on his father's hesitant admission. It is damaging to any man to see his father display weakness or cowardice, but when your father is also the undisputed ruler of the entirety of the Vague Areas, it is truly earth(andthoseareasbeyondearthaswell)- shattering. Allen Iverson misses a shot in the opening seconds of Over Time and then he misses again. He does not have a single field goal in the duration of Over Time.
Distraught!, he returns to his home and speaks to his father on the same intricately carved, seemingly unplugged telephone.
"Hello Father."
"Hello Number Three."
"How are things in the Vague Areas?"
"We are living in troubling times my son. Dark forces are gathering around the Fairie Brown and I fear that an invasion may be imminent. Do you know Richard 'The Ripper' Camel-tongue?"
"Yes, is he not the demon who always rides into battle wearing a clear mask, because no artist was capable of imagining and executing a visage as frightening as his real face?"
"Yes that is he. He has joined with the Fairie Brown."
"These are indeed dark tidings father."
"And Sssuh Benwalla, do you know of him as well my son?"
"I know him all too well. When we were children, our governess Helen used to frighten us with old wive's tales of a Great Giant who ate up castles as if they were walnuts and slept resting his head upon the largest mountains."
"Benwalla is such a man and he too has allied himself with the Fairie Brown."
"Say that it is not so, I had always taken those stories to be too fantastic to be true."
"And son, do you know the Arch-duke Chance Buildups?"
"Yes father, he is the King of Luck and has mastery over fortune itself does he not?"
"It is as you say; he accumulates great reserves of luck and then blesses himself and his allies with it as he sees fit. As he is now our enemy as well, I can be certain that luck will not be on our side in this coming combat."
"Is it imminent?"
"It is emminently imminent."
"I am very sorry father, but I must go, I am bound by commitments to this mortal plane. Many young men and women look up to me and I cherish each and every innocent heart. I have moved past the macabre and saturnine ways of my youth."
"I need you at my side my son. I worry that the Vague Areas will be lost."
A single tear rolls down the right cheek of Allen Iverson.
"I must go father, Game Five will be upon me shortly."
Allen Iverson hangs up the phone and crawls into bed. He sleeps uneasily and dreams of the illustrious blade which now hangs unused on the wall of his father's dining hall. The Answer is eight feet long, forged from a mixture of molten steel and moonlight, and quenched in the blood of the last living Shadow Ogre.
THE FIFTH AND FINAL GAME
DETROIT______88
PHILADELPHIA_78
Allen Iverson:
Minutes Played: 48 FGM-A: 14-30 3GM-A: 1-5 FTM-A 4-4 Rebounds: 1 Assists: 7 Personal Fouls: 3 Steals: 0 Turnovers: 4 Blocked Shots: 0 Points: 34
Allen Iverson's Sixers storm into the Palace hoping to preserve their playoff dreams. Things look good; near the end of the first Quarter they lead 24-17. Thanks to Allen Iverson indomitable will in a tight situation they continue to lead for most of the first three Quarters. With eleven minutes remaining in the game, coming down from a 3-point attempt, Allen Iverson breaks his ankle. Due to his remarkable pain threshold he is able to conceal the full extent of his injury from his team and the tens of thousands of fans watching at home in Philadelphia. Andre Iguodala replaces Allen Iverson, who then treats his own injury with a combination of King's Leaf and solemn prayers to Stilletta the Goddess of Feet and Ankles. He cunningly conceals the various magiks which he has wrought from the television cameras. In only 19 seconds he has made an almost complete recovery from what would have been a season-ending injury for a normal mortal and re-enters the game. In the remaining minutes he makes 3 shots and 2 free throws and also dishes 2 dimes. Despite his remarkable heroism and unvincelike invinceability, in his heart of hearts he knows that he has already decided to lose the game in order to save the Kingdom of Vague Areas, his childhood home and the seat of his father's Empire. Otherwise, we all know full well that Allen Iverson could not have been defeated.
In the postgame wrap-up, he appears confused, his mind is tied up with the unpleasant necessity of returning to a life of warfare. When asked how he feels, he wistfully remarks that he feels like doing it all again. Only you and I know how true this statement really is.
After the game, he steps the long-way through a shadow and appears in Philadelphia where a black Cadillac with tinted windows picks him up and takes him home. He enters his private sanctum and picks up his 'cordless' phone.
"Father, I will come to your aid."
"Oh, thank the four hundred heavens, this is the best news I've heard in a decade."
"I will arrive within your present month."
"You can leave that soon?"
"Yes I need only make a few phonecalls and pack a bag."
"Very good. Oh, one more thing, your cousin, the King of the Mermen, he has also concealed his true nature to play in your basketball league, is this not true?"
"I'm not sure, there's five immortals playing in the NBA this year."
"Hmm, well I could really use his assistance in this campaign. You know who I mean, the King Mackerel, Lord of All Mermen, he has the head of a gigantic catfish."
"Oh yeah, Tracy. No, the Rockets haven't been eliminated yet, so I don't know. I'll call him though. Maybe he'll throw the series too. The earth will come to understand our ways in time."
Allen Iverson hangs up his golden cordless and picks up a regular phone and calls yours truly.
"Matteus Von Mustard, I have a favour to ask you."
"By all means Allen, how can I be of service?"
He goes on to describe to me the ins and outs of his recent playoff series and the conversations with his father (and so, dear reader, you can believe what you read, for it is only one step removed from the lips of Iverson himself) and then asks if I can protect his family from any supernatural forces which might threaten them during his absence of five earth days, he informs me that I will not have to deal with earthly dangers because he has a "Thik Cru" which will look after them. As a billionaire, swashbuckler and paranormal investigator, I assure him that no otherwordly peril shall beset his family while he is gone.
And so, while the other eliminated players go off on vacation to Tahiti and Miami and the Bikini Atol, Allen Iverson slips out of our era and enters into the Vague Areas to ride at his father's side in a five-century battle against the Fairie Brown and his field generals Chance Buildups, Richard "The Ripper" Camel-Tonuge and Ssssuh Benwalla. Such is the life of a true hero. I hereby wish him whatever luck remains to him after Chance's meddling.
"Godspeed you Black Emperor's son, may you return to us for another illustrious season in the autumn!"
posted by Matthew Lie - Paehlke | 6:45 PM
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