Knicks' Marbury is awfully hard to root against

                    

	Stephon Marbury and the Knicks are off to slow start under new coach Larry Brown. Greg Nelson/SI

It was the fall of 2000, and I'd been in New York City for all of about three weeks. I'd moved up from Atlanta to take a job at SLAM magazine, and I quickly found myself penning my first cover story, on then-Nets point guard Stephon Marbury.

When my wife and I moved to the big city, we initially lived in a tiny one-room apartment near the U.N. Living above a nail salon turned out not to be a problem, but two people in a room about the size of a U-Haul truck just wasn't good for anyone involved, so we found a bigger place. Only problem was that moving day was the same day Marbury had cleared for me to hang out and interview him at his boyhood home in Coney Island.

Of course, this didn't make me the most popular person at home. I hadn't even received my first paycheck yet, and was flaunting a negative bank account balance, so it was slightly surreal to find myself riding around Coney Island in a Bentley convertible, while wifey was back in the city bossing around a moving crew.

When I explained my dilemma to Steph, he laughed and noted I better do something nice for her. Perhaps I could buy her flowers before returning home, I suggested. "No," Marbury said, "you should get her something different, something nice ... like maybe a pair of shoes or a purse." Steph and I hit it off, and even though I didn't buy/couldn't afford a purse, I took his advice and did my best to make her feel special when I got home.

The first time I saw Marbury play was in the first game of his only season at Georgia Tech. I'd heard about him because he was the most highly touted prep prospect that year, but seeing him in person was unsettling; that's how good he was. It was just an exhibition game against the venerable traveling Marathon Oil team, but Marbury's talent was palpable. He played with a low center of gravity, but seemed to rise 36 inches off the floor on every jump shot. He was explosive off of pick-and-rolls, and he moved like a viper, constantly about to strike. I'd seen Dominique, Bird, Jordan and Magic play in person, and I could recognize greatness. Marbury was special, even then, and I knew he was going to get better. I'll always remember returning to my parents' house after the game and telling my Mom that Marbury might be the best basketball player I'd ever seen.

Now, Marbury is beginning his 10th NBA season. He's been traded for Jason Kidd, Ray Allen and Charlie Ward. He's been to two All-Star Games, and is one of two players in NBA history to post career averages of at least 20 points and eight assists per game. (The other player was some guy named Oscar Robertson.) He's durable like a running back -- last year he was second in the NBA in minutes played -- and he's still as explosive as ever, breathtaking to watch as he fires off a pick-and-roll and attacks the rim, the ball protected tightly between his forearms.

Greatness, however, has mostly eluded him. He's never made it past the first round of the playoffs, and he's been tagged with a reputation of a guy who improved his teams mostly by leaving. Now he finds himself as the best player in the NBA's biggest market, and for the first time he has an established coach, someone who's actually won in the past and demands respect.