It’s hard to talk Blazers without talking “the curse.” You can’t talk “the curse” without talking Greg Oden. And rare is a conversation regarding Greg Oden which doesn’t begin and end with frustration concerning what could’ve been. I know these things and most likely you know these things as well, but what you, I, and likely nearly everyone like us often forgets, is that Greg Oden knows these things too…and that must result in a lot of sleepless nights.
It’s hard to think back on that day in Pioneer Courthouse Square: The day they chanted Greg’s name, the day he addressed the crowd, and the first day of Portland’s presumed run to a championship. We all thought this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship, but few could’ve foreseen the level of hardship on Blazer Fan’s horizon, or the mental anguish a young ex-Blazer, and possibly ex-basketball player would soon be forced to confront. And that’s what’s lost amongst the injury-riddled legacy of Greg Oden’s career; not the scar he left on an already fragile franchise, but rather the anguish cast upon a young man who’s seemingly done nothing wrong.
This wasn’t Jay Williams (Former Duke standout and #1 overall pick) crashing a motorcycle he was contractually prohibited from riding. This wasn’t Jayson Williams (No relation to the aforementioned Blue Devil point guard) accidentally discharging a firearm during an act of tomfoolery, resulting in the death of a limo driver and a subsequent cover-up attempt. And this certainly wasn’t former San Francisco Giant Jeff Kent breaking his wrist crashing his dirt bike, then consequently leaning on a “I slipped while washing my truck” excuse after presumably discarding the three alternative stories cooked-up by a handful of neighborhood Cub Scouts, during a Den meeting earlier that afternoon. This was a relatively soft spoken 19-year-old who’d spent much of his adolescence, the better part of his teens, and all of his college tenure planning for the “can’t miss” career which he had been penciled-in for since he first dominated his peers with a rare combination of size and athleticism, “missing” due to a slew of mysterious knee injuries ranking somewhere between the Bermuda Triangle and any one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
When Greg signed his contract with the Trail Blazers, he likely saw himself making All-Star teams and his team winning championships. He quite possibly idolized Shaq and wanted to win like the Lakers. He probably envisioned a small fortune on the court, and an even greater fortune off of it. But I’d bet either of those fortunes that he never saw an 82-game career, less than 20 million dollars and a legacy tied to the likes of Sam Bowie anywhere in those glimpses to the future. After-all, why would he? This was a once-in-a-generation player. The type of player the likes of the aforementioned Shaq, Tim Duncan, Hakeem Olajuwon and even Michael Jordan; a player franchises build around en route to multiple championships, a decade worth of All-Star appearances, and a retired number hanging from the hometown rafters. But it wasn’t meant to be.
From the time it was reported that his initial knee surgery would keep him from his rookie season, Greg Oden’s career hovered like one of those alien ships in Independence Day, biding its time, and waiting patiently for the appropriate moment to levy it’s devastation on the unsuspecting civilians below.
And devastate it did.
Oden’s legacy will not be of championships, All-Star games and hometown banners, but more so another demoralizing link in a franchise’s chain of misfortune. A step closer to the type of lore found only in “cursed” cities named Chicago, previously Boston, and that notoriously subpar collection of teams in a place called Cleveland. And that has to hurt.
While you and I are haunted by what could’ve been, mutter “woe is me,” and curse all things “him,” that guy who all the superstition, pity and angst revolves around, wouldn’t be human if he didn’t feel the weight of a city’s frustration squarely placed on his 7-foot shoulders. He understood the expectations that came with his arrival in the Rose City, and he embraced it from day-1. While he expressed from the get-go surprise by the fanfare accompanying his selection, he enjoyed the attention and quickly came to understand the level of passion surrounding this team, and more specifically the city’s level of adoration for it. Portland embraced him and both it, and the franchise were there for him during each of his well-documented setbacks, providing him with support and offering a more-than-acceptable level of patience under circumstances few would deem less-than-frustrating. And he let us all down.
And don’t think he doesn’t know it.
Could you live with that? And more importantly, would you want to? I’m sure he reads the papers, listens to the radio, and hears the “talking heads.” He understands that from now until eternity he’ll be the answer to a trivia question regarding the biggest busts in professional sports, and that a city and franchise will forever associate him with a forgetful time in both of their lives. Is that worth 20 million dollars? The quick answer is “of course,” but it’s hard to fully understand the effect of mental anguish until personally confronted with such, and it’s safe to say that you or I will likely never face the level of such that Mr. Oden is, and certainly will feel for the remainder of his young life.
Greg Oden is no longer a Portland Trail Blazer and may possibly never play the game again. His career was over before it really started, and was unfortunately ended due to no apparent fault of his own. Yes, he made a lot of money and also yes, he let a lot of people down in the process, but to blame him for either is both irresponsible and unfair to a young man who’s likely deeply saddened, extremely frustrated, and definitely searching for answers to questions that have changed his life forever.
Am I at peace with all things Oden, comfortable with how it all went down, and beyond this tragic tale of woe? No, and I’m willing to bet you aren’t either. But when times get tough and you desperately want to forget everything that’s happened since his arrival on the scene, remember this: He probably does too.
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