My latest piece at Hardwood Paroxysm is a look-back on the career of Steve Francis:
The record must be set straight, at least for posterity. Having suffered through watching most of his career, I can lay claim to the unenviable title of authority on Francis. It matters not for the man’s legacy, but because he became one of the symbols of a dark era: the shoot-first breed of combo-point that found its way into the league earlier this decade is dying, with passing once more en vogue. But it’s unfair to pin Francis’ failures on what lay between the ears. Steve’s problem, aside from his mouth, was that he just wasn’t very good.