Thoughts on the Fab Five

Watched ESPN's "30 for 30" documentary on the Fab Five last night.

There's a ton of stuff to say about Fab Five, culturally and as it relates to basketball. I'll leave it to others more qualified to list them all (and many have). As to my own experience, the Fab Five came around at a time when my identity as a basketball player and a basketball fan was really taking shape, and they certainly influenced it. I wore black socks on the court (when I wore socks at all; a pony-tailed St. Peter's College player named Mike Frensley didn't wear them, and inspired me to follow suit when he wore a Nirvana t-shirt to a post-NCAA Tournament game press conference). I wore baggy shorts. My AAU team broke huddles by yelling "Nut check!" the way Mitch Albom, in his book Fab Five, told us that Chris Webber, Jalen Rose, Juwan Howard, Jimmy King, and Ray Jackson did.

It doesn't sound like much, I know. But considering the college basketball landscape at the time, and the fact that I grew up in Vermont, where there was essentially no exposure to black culture, these things were a big deal. More than anything, the Fab Five taught me that you could play basketball -- play it well, play it right -- while expressing yourself.

As for the documentary itself, I thought it was pretty good. Jalen Rose produced it, and at times it came off as a little self-indulgent, but I thought it captured the era well. I recommend, too, listening to the first part of Bill Simmons' podcast with Rose, during which they discuss the documentary. They talk about a number of issues, including the conspicuous absence of Webber from the film (probably due to the whole Ed Martin/improper benefits/lying to a Grand Jury thing).

That incident, of course, led to the Fab Five being erased from Michigan's record books; the documentary opens and closes with shots of the university's archives, where the banners commemorating the team's Final Four appearances are stored, rather than hanging from the rafters of Crisler Arena. And I think that this is what I like most about the Fab Five, and about ball in general: No matter what else happens, what you do on the court lives forever. The Fab Five never won a national title. On paper, their era ceases to exist -- it's like it never happened. And yet their influence -- from baggy shorts on players to hip hop blaring in arenas to spirited debate about whether college athletes should be paid -- lives on, as it will forever.