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by Samr<br>
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>SpursCentral.com</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--><br>
February 25, 2005<br>
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509 games. 2460 rebounds. 249 steals. 236 blocks. 1281 fouls. 3815 points. I wish it was easy to quantify what Malik Rose has given to the city of San Antonio. I wish I could look at rebounds, the points, the blocks, the steals, the games, and yes, even the fouls, and know what kind of player this was. I wish there was a number, a trophy, or a plaque to give to him which could signify all that he has done. I wish there was an easier way to say “farewell.” There isn’t. For all that Malik has given the league, the organization, the fans, and the city, there is no fitting way to wave goodbye to a player who has embodied everything the Spurs, the city stands for. I sit here at the computer, knowing only that now would be a great time for me to write something for the situation, but struggling for the words with which to do so. For once in my life, I am at a loss for words, which almost seems right. How can you do such a player justice? How can you sum up his contributions in one article, one paragraph, or one word? Heart. I guess that’s close enough.<br>
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I attended my first Spurs game at age nine. It was against the Hornets, of the Charlotte variety. I didn’t know the players’ names; I didn’t know their positions. All I knew was entertainment, and that I was supposed to cheer for the player who brought the largest benefit to the home team. It was there that I encountered my first dilemma: Malik Rose. It was during his first season as a Spur and second in the league. He was raw, inexperienced, clumsy, but determined as hell. I remember watching him power his way from under the basket, up and seemingly through the bodies of at minimum two defenders. I remember how he would accidentally bank it high off the backboard, then quickly snatch the offensive rebound and reload. Rinse and repeat several times. I remember how he would finally slam it home, and release so much emotion that the people high in the top section of the Alamodome couldn’t help but make the same, constipated expression which so naturally adorned Malik’s own face. He would run down to the other end, as excited as ever that he could contribute. Then promptly foul his defensive assignment.<br>
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He was good for six minutes a game. Six fouls. That’s all it would take to start the whitening process of Popovich’s hair. That’s all it would take to change the game. I remember when Malik was given his big contract. I jumped for joy when I read it in the papers (I have religiously read the Sports section every day during my Spurs fan career, except for days between a loss and a win. I cannot take the emotional upheaval.) I was so excited that Malik would be a Spur well into my future. By my calculations, he would remain a Spur until I went away to college- a cut-off point in my mind’s eye for my following of the Spurs. But then it hit me: why did the Spurs pay him that much? Why did the Spurs give him so much money when he was not the star of the team? I had not yet grasped the concepts of a salary cap or free agency, but I still wondered why. During the period of uncertainty and contract negotiations, I was one small step away from writing to the Spurs and offering to help pay his contract with my allowance money. I was stupid as a kid, I do not deny this.<br>
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The contract. That infamous, blasphemous, gratuitous contract. It was meant to reward him for his loyalty to the Spurs. It was meant as a “thank you” card for his services. Malik didn’t see it as such. Malik believed that he needed to live up to his contract, to live up to some nonexistent expectations. It wasn’t the money that doomed him, it was his desire to really earn it. The following season, Rose set out to prove that he was worth that kind of money. He was determined to extend his range, to expand his repertoire, and to become the kind of dominant player he thought his contract warranted. We can blame the salary cap all we want, but in all actuality, it was Rose’s desire to earn his keep that shut the door. He would give the coaches heart attacks because he would attack the game with all his heart. This, to me, is the ultimate symbolism. It is the perfect metaphor for his career. Early in his career, it was his uncontrolled enthusiasm which made him so frustrating, and yet, so effective. It is what also got him benched, time and time again. It was his desire to please, to somehow validate himself or the money the Spurs gave him, which resulted in him attempting to play outside his role. It’s what got him benched, got him in the dog house, and got him traded. For that, he can be proud. If I were to be accused of something, I’d want it to be of trying too hard.<br>
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I am not sad to see Malik leave, I know that ultimately, this is best for him. What I am sad about is that the New York fans will never appreciate Malik, the person, in the same way that San Antonio will always. They have never watched him be the emcee at the championship ceremonies, one of which, ironically, came after beating New York in the Finals. They have never laughed as he smiled, mouth full of adult-onset braces, and roasted Tim Duncan during post-game interviews. They have never had the privilege of cheering when Malik “pulled the chair out” from under Shaq. The New York fans have never tasted Phili’s Phamous, which will never taste quite as good again. Stephon Marbury will never wait patiently as Malik does his dirty work under the boards. Herb Williams and Isiah Thomas will never truly appreciate what Malik brings to the court. His teammates will never allow him to become the veteran voice in the locker room, speaking as one of the two players who has experienced both championships and understands every part of the team’s workings. But what is the most saddening, is that New York fans will never quite appreciate Malik for the funny, kind, charitable person he is. They’ll never understand why so many San Antonians cried on February 24, and they’ll never realize that Malik was so much more than the player or the game. He was, simply, Malik Rose. <br>
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I wish there were words to explain the joy I felt as a young child when Pop subbed in Malik, which I was positive was in response to my pre-pubescent chants of “Put Malik in!!!” I wish I could re-live the moments when Malik brought me off my feet as the opposing coach called a timeout to bring his team off the court. I wish I could sing Cotton Eyed Joe one more time, feeling the roar of the crowd in every bone in my body. I wish I could personally thank Malik for all which he has done, and explain to him what he has meant to the game, the city, and me. If I ever got the chance to meet him, I’m sure I’d stumble over my words. I guess “heart” would be a good one to start with. <br>
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I sit here, still wondering if what I am writing will do him justice. I’m re-writing, re-wording, and re-thinking what will, ultimately, be my one standing tribute to Malik. I can’t help but think that I should be doing something, something other than this, to say farewell to a local legend, and a true hero. I can’t put into words how my entire scholastic day was not a series of quizzes and tests, the content of which I barely remember or care about, but a long reflection upon what Malik Rose has done, and laughter at the memories I have saved. I realize that he is not dead, such metaphorical assumptions are childish at best, but it is hard not to believe that a part of this city has just died. It is hard not to believe that on that charted flight to New York, went a piece of every Spurs fan’s heart, their loyalty, and their soul. What a fitting way to send him off into the sunset- With a piece of our hearts, to go along with his. <br>
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<p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br>
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<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test and don't ask why. It's not a question but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life."</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--><br>
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Malik Rose: '96-'05 -Once a Spur, always a San Antonian. You will be missed</p><i>Edited by: <A HREF=http://p204.ezboard.com/bsanantoniospurs62937.showUserPublicProfile?gid=samr@sanantoniospurs62937>Samr</A> at: 2/25/05 10:08 pm<br></i>
2003 
