6/14/2002

For those who view the NBA as nothing more than a collection of sleek, athletic, Ferrari-type athletes, we present Dikembe Mutombo. Take a look: He's moving, but there's nothing graceful about it. He has summoned the necessary strength to force his body out of the shower and back to his locker. He is 7 feet, 2 inches of misery. His slim, angular body maintains its bolt-upright position, but anybody who sees it can almost hear the muscles screaming, "Enough!" Most alarming is the Astrodome-sized callous/bunion that protrudes skyward from his right foot. It's a wonder his size-22 sleds don't come with a sidecar for that monstrosity.

Mutombo dries himself gingerly, then regards the daunting task at hand -- getting dressed. After spending 25 minutes banging against Alonzo Mourning and the rest of Pat Riley's Miami brutes, Deke isn't exactly brimming with the energy needed to don his sharp suit. Couldn't he just lie down for a while? "I guess I got stiff sitting when I was in foul trouble," he says. Even his words are weary, and his trademark gravelly bass lacks its usual commanding status. But Mutombo rallies. In a matter of minutes, he is sharply clad and able to shuffle out of the Sixers locker room. There will be no interview tonight. "Wait for my call tomorrow morning," he says. You believe him.

At least Mutombo has company. Across the blue carpet sits forward Matt Harpring, speaking in the hushed, almost funereal tones that accompany a loss, in this case an 82-77 decision. One foot soaks in a tub of icy water. His knees are engulfed in giant bags of ice. And he's healthy.

The night's prize for physical misery, though, goes to Mourning, who is the very picture of exhaustion. Sitting in his customary corner locker in the First Union Center's visitors' locker room, the Miami center stares dead ahead, allowing four ice bags to provide some relief from the ravages of his night's work. His rich, chestnut eyes don't burn with their trademark fury, rather receding somewhat. He speaks not with passion, like the Zo of old, but with wisdom. "At this point, a lot of it is mental," he says. "If your mind is right, the body will follow."
 
Not that he doesn't have enough left in the tank to engage in a little bit of trash talk about his former Georgetown teammate. "He uses his length on me, but I try to get some space," Mourning says of Deke. "He's playing me for the drive, because he knows I can go by him every time."

Any rebuttal, Dikembe? "He can talk about whatever he wants," Mutombo says. "I have great respect for Mourning. He has a great game and more offensive moves than me. But by being a great defensive player, I put a big challenge on him. I just ask him, who won this year's series? We beat them three games out of four."

OK, guys. You can settle this over the summer down in DC. For now, Game 67 of the '01-02 season is over. There will be another, far too soon. The aging warriors will summon the necessary strength and courage to forge ahead. Hell, Mutombo once played an exhibition game with malaria. He'll be ready to go two nights later in Boston. Count on it. He always has been. Since entering the League in 1991, Mutombo has played no fewer than 71 games in any full regular season. Other players hit the DL for stretches, endure surgeries and stretches of rehab. Mount Mutombo, meanwhile, stands tall, night after night. "People have to remember that he's not 5-10 or 6-4, but he's 7-2," Sixers guard Aaron McKie says. "You have to get on him just to sit out practice."

On this year's Sixers club, Mutombo's reliability is a big deal. Team Ice Bag has been ravaged by injuries, with Allen Iverson, Eric Snow, Derrick Coleman and McKie missing appreciable time due to a variety of twists, turns, breaks and hyperextensions. Not Mutombo.

"It's the kind of player he is," Sixers coach Larry Brown said. "He has been there every night. There haven't been many times in his career he hasn't played, and that was a big factor in us getting him."

But the final curtain is drawing near. The official records list him as nearly 36 years old, even though this is only his 12th NBA season. But there are whispers, as there are with many foreign players, that he is two, three or even four years older. Perhaps the only way to find out is by carbon dating, or perhaps to cut him open and count the rings, like some majestic sequoia. No matter how old Mutombo may be, he remains one of the League's most regal presences, a seven-foot-plus king of the paint and a towering figure both on and off the court. He will play three or four more seasons, perhaps. Maybe he'll get a championship ring. He will leave as one of the most accomplished defensive players of all time, a classic intimidator and rejector with perfect timing, sharp elbows and his trademark admonishing finger, a kind of metronomic reminder that you don't want to climb the mountain. Yes, it will end.

Then his life will begin.

That's why he was in his native Congo (formerly Zaire) last summer, breaking ground on a hospital, to which he contributed $3 million of his own money. A generous benefactor to causes throughout Africa for many years, Mutombo is looking ahead. He acknowledges that he has been blessed by the opportunity to play basketball and reap its rich rewards. He also knows there is much more to life than the round, orange ball.

"A lot of my life has to do with basketball, but it's not the only thing God intended me to do," Deke says. "My vision was to build something like a hospital as another challenge. I wanted to find a way to challenge myself after basketball. We had the groundbreaking, and now the challenge is to run it after my career. We have to find doctors and nurses and continue to do things that people think I couldn't have done."

An hour before, Dr. Jack McPhilemy, the Sixers' orthopaedic specialist, gave the media a detailed breakdown of Iverson's and Coleman's most recent injuries. The layman's version: AI had a busted finger and needed a cast, a splint, then rehab; DC had a hyperextended knee, among other maladies, and needed rest. Clearly interested in following doctor's orders, Coleman was in the starting lineup for this late-March visit from the Nets.

Mutombo was there, too. And in the first quarter, he was dazzling. Deke poured in 10 points, lighting up former teammate and practice partner Todd MacCulloch with an array of hooks, tips and spinning layups. While the Nets misfired badly from the field, missing 11 of their first 12 shots, Mutombo looked like he wanted to score 50. Alas, it didn't last. Jerz started defending the middle better, woke up after halftime and dealt the Sixers an 88-80 loss in a Billy Bob Thornton-ugly game.

After his initial outburst, Mutombo was largely silent the rest of the way, a combination of the Nets finally respecting him and the Sixers' tendency to move away from his hot hand, even if AI is out of the lineup. As a result, what could have been a signature game for Mutombo ended in more frustration.

Since he came to Phillly in February of '01 (in exchange, essentially, for Theo Ratliff and Toni Kukoc), the play of the L's only four-time Defensive Player of the Year has been the subject of mad debate. Sixers fans and media rabble-rousers lamented the loss of Ratliff, who, due to injuries, has played in only a handful of games since. They said Mutombo was too old, too slow, too mechanical and too one-dimensional. Of course, most kept their mouths shut when Mutombo hit an array of hook shots and midrange Js in last year's run to the Finals.

Written by Scoop Jackson for Slam Magazine Issue #61, June 2002