This is sad for a number of reasons. His style of play was fun to watch, mainly because it either led to something spectacular or something maddening, and never anything in between.
He was also culturally significant, because he was a white basketball player with a decidedly "urban" (i.e. gangsta or gully in late-90's urban-dictionary-speak) image at a time when "urban" images for basketball players were the thing. Case in point: he has the word "White Boy" tattooed on his knuckles. To the braided, headband-wearing Caucasian youths in the Des Moines, Iowa's of America, he was a hero, their fantasy personified.
Goodbye, White Chocolate. America will stow you away next to their Marshall Mathers LPs, Malibu's Most Wanted DVD's, and other assorted keepsakes.
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