Maturity makes the moment

When champions are crowned and defined, the theater of professional sports usually projects one of two qualities to the masses watching on television: arrogance, or dignity.

When the confetti streamed down from the First Union Center, and the Philadelphia 76ers had reached their first NBA Finals since 1983 (also against the Los Angeles Lakers), there could be no doubt: these Sixers offer the sporting world a rich portrayal of emergent and beautiful dignity.

It wasn't so much the basketball, even though the Sixers and their star, Allen Iverson, played their best game of the series in a game 7 situation. It was the responses to the victory--as in any championship celebration--that told the country why these 76ers are a particularly admirable ballclub.

There was Iverson, hugging Milwaukee's Sam Cassell after Cassell fouled out in the final minutes. Iverson made this gesture even though Cassell tripped him--thoughtlessly and dangerously--just a few minutes earlier.

Iverson then stood tall in the postgame interviews, reaffirming his gratitude toward his teammates and especially toward the man who existed in a different universe just a season ago: Larry Brown. Hearing a superstar, and one who had just gone out and won the game on his own (albeit with considerable help from Dikembe Mutombo), lavish such praise on teammates and coaches is a refreshing sight in a league that needs more such moments... a lot more.

After reaching his first-ever NBA Finals after 788 wins without one, Brown could only gush--as he already did during the series--about the development of Iverson as a person and about the heart and character of his team. Whether it was Tyrone Hill's ability to cope with his father's illness, Eric Snow's ability to play and even hit game-winning shots without healthy legs, or the Sixers' ability to nearly win game 3 of the series without Iverson, Brown had ample reasons to praise his players, whose elbow grease derailed the hopes of a Milwaukee team that had a stellar season, but still--it should be noted--had better health and raw talent up and down the roster.

After Iverson and Brown, the two centerpieces of the Sixers' "feel the love tour" in this 2001 playoff season, a third (and literal) center of attention in Philadelphia was Dikembe Mutombo. The writing was on the wall after the shot-blocking center was traded to the Sixers in February for the popular, effective and young Theo Ratliff: Dikembe, you better point and wag that finger if and only if you accomplish something this season.

Sure enough, in the biggest game of his basketball life, Mount Mutombo played like the giant he can be, and not like the awkward and limited presence he often is. His 23 points, 19 boards, and 7 blocks gave the Sixers the interior complement to Iverson's devastating perimeter shooting.

A grateful and beaming Mutombo, who thanked everyone in the world after the game, provided a final answer to his critics that was just as forceful as Iverson's 44-point masterpiece. For someone who has always been an exceptional citizen off the court by (among other things) creating and furthering many life-giving programs in his native Africa, Mutombo now has a significant on-court achievement to add to his resume. The fact that he had a central role in its fulfillment only added to the joy in his smile.

The Lakers await, but they're for another day. The Shaq-Iverson comparisons will wait as well. For now, the Philadelphia 76ers have already achieved a truly successful season. The reactions of their cocky star-turned-team-player, their distinguished veteran coach, and their validated, dignified center, all showed how championship victory celebrations sometimes melt all the cliches and turn them into genuine stories of redemption, personal growth, and profound meaning.