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RIP Mary Ellen Mark

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Let hope rise.

"No artist is normal; if he were, he wouldn't be an artist. Normal men don't create works of art. They eat, sleep, hold down routine jobs, and die. You are hypersensitive to life and nature; that's why you are able to interpret for the rest of us. But if you are not careful, that very hypersensitivitiness will lead you to your destruction. The strain of it breaks every artist in time."

Lust for Life - Irving Stone

via. Brubaker

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"Besides coaches, are there any teammates that helped you along the way—"

"Ohhh man - Aaron Mckie—" the answer burst from Allen Iverson before the inquiring reporter even had a chance to finish his question. A previously reflective face suddenly erupted in a flood of emotions as the NBA’s greatest pound-for-pound basketball player replied with conviction that shocked the room to silence—a considerable feat for a star with the Answer’s history of candor.

"…that helped you get to where you are today?" The reporter trailed off as Iverson shook his head and gazed past the crowd, as if resigned to his inability to fully express how he felt.

"Aaron Mckie. Aaron Mckie. Aaron Mckie…Aaron Mckie.” He repeated the name four more times, pausing between the third and fourth declaration to gather himself. Tears welled in Iverson’s eyes and began to escape down his cheek as he spoke like a man talking about someone who had saved his life.

The shot shifted to Mckie himself, watching the press conference from a TV studio. He glanced up for a moment, suddenly aware of the cameras boring into him as Allen’s emotional response continued.

"I mean, he was my teammate, but it was on another level. He was my teammate but he was my friend."

—

Allen Iverson will go down as one of the greatest to ever play the game, a hundred sixty-five pounds of relentless basketball talent whose heart and swagger transcended the sport he so passionately loved. In highschool, it was Iverson I idolized, Iverson I imitated on the court, Iverson I tried to mimic in my look. I grew my nappy hair into a six-inch fro so I could cornrow it like AI, I wore oversized sleeveless tees like the one he sported in the Reebok commercial with Jadakiss, I painstakingly watched and rewatched videos of his crossover in the vain hope of adding it to my personal repertoire.

But the greatest impression Iverson left on me came at the end of his legendary career, in this sober press conference that he held for his retirement. Allen Iverson spent years reminding people he was only human—for the first time in my life I truly believed it. In this moment I admired him more than I ever did before, because he showed that behind greatness was a life-changing friendship.

That was probably the greatest gift basketball could ever give to a man who gave the game everything he had.

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