The redemption of Chris Webber

This is personal... I am not a fan of Chris Webber.

That being said, I was moved to feel sympathy for him at the end of Game 7 between his Sacramento Kings and the Minnesota Timberwolves.

Soon after he had missed an important layup, and down by three points, the ball found its way into his hands with a chance to tie the game and force overtime in shocking fashion.

He pump-faked the NBA MVP, Kevin Garnett, into the air and worked his way to an open shot.

He put the ball up into the air.

It looked like it was good when it reached the basket, but then it rolled around the rim and came out.

Goodbye Kings in devastating fashion... Again!

I didn't always dislike Webber.

To this day, Michigan's Fab 5, which he was part of, is still one of the great nation-captivating sports phenomena.

His only year in Golden State featured a starting five that ranks among my favorites -- Webber, Billy Owens, Chris Mullin, Latrell Sprewell and Tim Hardaway.

When he clashed with head coach/GM Don Nelson and was traded to the Washington Bullets, I was on his side, and as that team built and reached contention, I desperately wanted them to beat Michael Jordan's Bulls in a playoff upset.

He was traded to Sacramento in a move that was designed to punish him.

That's where he teamed up with Jason Williams (a.k.a. White Chocolate), and NBA excitement was back.

Webber was the focal point of the most exhilarating team in the league, but he was worn down and hurt by playoff time.

It was up to Vlade Divac to make a shot to carry the underdog Kings past Utah.

Nope.

As the Lakers' dynasty began to take form, they faced a feisty young Kings' team that was overmatched everywhere except at power forward, where Webber did it all.

The Kings fought hard and hung in there until the fifth and final game.

Webb put up big numbers and nobody could stop him, but he didn't have consistent teammates.

All of a sudden those teammates showed up in Sactown, with Mike Bibby in place and the general structure of the Kings team you saw in 2003 and 2004.

Sacramento wasn't an underdog anymore, as they became one of the most talented teams in the league.

Webber smiled, he didn't want the ball in the clutch, and he held out for the big money that the Kings gave him.

It was as if he told the people of Sacramento, "I don't like your city, but if you give me all of this money, I'll be nice enough to donate my time to your basketball team."

Then it all became clear.

Webber couldn't beat the Lakers, even when his team had more talent.

He never wanted the ball with the game on the line. He had no guts.

Coming into the league, his game was all power and it was thrilling.

As a 6'10" rookie, his dunk on Charles Barkley announced to the world that he was here to stay, and it spawned one great basketball commercial -- "I don't believe in role models, but you're mine."

He added the outside shot to his tough inside game, and that elevated into the MVP conversation when the Kings emerged as a title contender.

That's when Webber softened up too much.

He seemed to prefer those wide open jumpers to a mean, crowd-pumping throw down.

Always one to scowl or make the throat slash gesture on his way back up-court, Webber started to do these things after hitting jumpers, as well as the dunks he would get off of pure athleticism and his team's crisp passing.

Slowly, his entire game turned into those outside jumpers and soft inside moves.

He always had the body to go inside with toughness, but he didn't want to use it.

He was afraid, yet so talented that it almost didn't matter.

Webber, with the running Kings, could be half asleep and wind up with 20 points and 10 rebounds.

He had so much natural ability and potential, but he just didn't seem like he wanted to live up to it.

Last season, the '03 playoffs were the Kings' year.

It is an NBA rite of passage for champions to lose in the playoffs for several years in a row, climbing the mountain slowly from round to round.

After their horrendous, historical choke job against the Lakers in Game 7 of the 2002 Western Finals, the Kings had learned their lesson.

In 2003, they were ready to move on, but in a second round game against Dallas, Webber was hurt and his team couldn't recover.

That injury kept him out for a major portion of this most recent season too

When he came back, it hurt his team.

Peja Stojakovic, who was lighting up the league, took a step back, deferring to the superstar and it was bad for the team.

Sacramento limped to the finish line and entered the playoffs as a question mark.

Webber played through pain, and he played great in the first round.

He couldn't jump or use the explosiveness that his whole game was based on, but he toughed it out against Dallas this time.

He really put himself out there, working hard against the T-Wolves, against the MVP, even dunking on him in Game 6.

Webber finally took the big shot at the end of Game 7, and it went in... and out.

This season was a trying one for Webber, who was missing in action and still nursing the injury he picked up in the playoffs, while his team played great behind MVP candidate Stojakovic.

He only came up in the news with stories of his corruption as a high school kid that took money from slimy agents and more of the same stories from his college years.

He was on the hot seat for perjuring himself in front of a grand jury based on those same issues.

He was suspended for a mysterious drug violation.

Then he came back, looked like the same player he always was for a game, and then was terrible for most of the season.

There was no bounce in his step, and he couldn't even run.

He used to be one of the most sensational dunkers in the game, and now he couldn't get up without gathering himself.

Webber heard the boos from his home crowd at Arco arena, and he was saddened by them, but he kept going out there to play, usually hurting his team in the process.

In the first round of the playoffs he rediscovered his game, even putting up a triple double, which is always the sign of playing a well-rounded game.

Everything was coming together for him, while he was playing on one leg, limping through games, being questioned by anyone that had a voice, pen or computer keyboard.

Was he a leader? Why didn't he want to be one? Why was he shying away from responsibility?

Webber worked through all of that negativity and kept his dignity this time.

I never would cheer for him, but I respected how he handled himself.

Then came Game 7.

With everything on the line and Stojakovic unwilling to step up, Webber nearly eradicated his legacy as a loser.

Nearly.

He was one friendly roll through the rim away from doing so, but it wasn't meant to be.

He gave all that he could, and just didn't get that one lucky roll.

Is it possible to feel sympathy for a man that has hundreds of millions of dollars in the bank and has never been worth what he is paid?

I guess it is, because now, instead of the malicious feelings and venom I felt inside, I will always respect the effort Webber put forth to try and rewrite his legacy, even if he fell short.

Maybe there's still time for Webber to write a final, more uplifting chapter to his story, but that time is running out.

Whether he comes through or he does not, one thing is certain -- I will be a Chris Webber fan.