To and 'fro: NBA's tradition of hair-raisers is still alive

Perhaps you've noticed the parade.

Oh, you tried not to. It's not part of the game.

But a curl raised your brow. A twist made you squint your eyes.

And a spike caused you to say, "That's tight!" or maybe, "What's that?"

NBA players have always been water-cooler fodder for their games. Lately, something more has sprouted — hair.

After two decades of going dormant behind Michael Jordan-style bald heads and standard "business cuts," players have blended in funky styles such as cornrows, mini-Afros, dreadlocks, twists and long tresses to go with their body art and playing accessories, such as headbands.

In the past two weeks, an astute Sonics fan could have noticed them all.

There was Detroit's Ben Wallace, who flips between a wild 'fro and cornrows. Then came Atlanta guard Dan Dickau's dyed, curly mop top. On Tuesday it was Minnesota guard Troy Hudson's twists and Kendall Gill's dreads. Tonight is the arrival of the player responsible for the resurgence of the anything-goes philosophy among younger players — Philadelphia guard Allen Iverson, whose 76ers play the Sonics at KeyArena.

While Utah forward Karl Malone pitched Rogaine in the late '90s to folks seeking to regrow their hair, Iverson popularized a variation of the corn-rows hairstyle. Iverson's stylist creates patterns that boggle the mind with artistic expression.

To Iverson, however, it's simply a hairstyle.

"I got tired of trying to get haircuts on the road and guys messing up my head," he said recently. "This is easiest, it's me and I'm gonna leave it like this for the rest of my career."

Not that being a trendsetter was easy for Iverson. When he joined the league as the No. 1 overall pick in the 1996 draft, he wore a short fade and had served four months after a 1993 conviction (eventually overturned on appeal) for his role in a bowling-alley brawl.

Especially his new millennium 'do.

The NBA has a "clean conduct code" that targets profanity, treatment of officials and wearing baggy shorts. A spokesperson for the NBA Players Association said Stern has never publicly tried to control what players look like beyond banning jewelry and T-shirts while they play, but in some cases it's implied.

"(Corporations) have a dress code for their employees; so do we," an NBA executive said. "What we're saying is, 'You're professionals now. You're not on the playground any more.' "

But most players can't comprehend the negative image of cornrows.

"I don't understand how it can be a negative connotation," said Indiana Pacers forward Jermaine O'Neal, who wears cornrows. "Nobody says anything when the corporate world puts all that mousse in their hair. Why is it a negative image when it's a black athlete? Why do we have to be thugs just because we wear jeans and chains? It's not fair."

Iverson, many people's answer for what's wrong with the NBA, didn't make things easier on himself. In July 2002, he was accused of barging into an apartment with a weapon looking for his wife. Iverson also was rumored to have thrown her out of their home naked prior to that incident. Yet Iverson's "thug" image only increased his marketability. Sales for his $125 shoes and 76ers jersey increased. His legion of fans grew, and his signature cornrows became more popular.

Even Reebok, which signed Iverson to a lifetime $100 million contract, backed the wiry guard. The company declared him innocent the day he was charged for the July incident and issued a statement saying, "It is Allen's celebrity status, not the facts, that continues to fuel these proceedings."

The times are far removed from when sportscasters used to debate what color hair Dennis Rodman was going to show up with. Now, it's chic to be different.

"That's society," said Memphis Coach Hubie Brown, who has been a part of the NBA since the 1970s. "Players go with what's happening in society. And it's nothing new. In my day there were Afros, plaid pants and loud colors. It's the same now. But once a player crosses the white lines, it's about basketball. And I don't think it affects how you coach a team or how you play."

Hair used to be a political statement. It stood for such things as "Black Power," or rebellion against government and traditional ways. That's why New Orleans Coach Paul Silas picked out his Afro to look like Dr. J or Darnell Hillman when Silas played for the Sonics from 1977-80.

At the time, African-Americans still were fighting for equal rights and the country was reeling from the Vietnam War. Peace-sign gold medallion necklaces, knee-high socks, Afros and combs with fist-shaped handles were the norm.

"Wearing that style meant you were a part of the movement," Silas said. "You were part of the advancement of (black) people. These guys today know little about that, and I know these styles don't have the same meaning. They don't even keep up with their style. We were at the barbershop all the time, getting it touched up."

Today a hairstyle is more like a facade. Take Iverson. The tattooed hip-hop darling has a "thuggish" past, but these days "The Answer" kicks back in a $2.4 million mansion, flies chartered planes and eats at four-star restaurants with his family of four.

Thuggish life? Hardly.

"People can say what they want," Iverson said.

It's not just black players who are scrutinized for not wanting to be like Mike anymore. White players have revived the Bill Walton-style curly tresses and Pete Maravich's long hair.

For all of his ponytail-wearing days, Walton criticized Dallas Mavericks guard Steve Nash's long, brown hair. During an ESPN telecast, Walton called the hair gross and harped, "It's amazing his hair doesn't get in his eyes."

Said Nash, whose hairstyle was dubbed "The Weasel" by the cable network: "It's amazing it's so important to people. It's just hair."

Hair that helped create a $3.5 billion industry for the male cosmetics industry in 2001.

Depending on the style, it takes about two hours to have your hair braided into cornrows. The style can cost anywhere from $60-100 every two weeks, based on how fast your hair grows. However, some players, such as Wallace, have their wives braid their hair. Dreads take longer to grow, about a year, and need less maintenance once the hair has locked. The mini-Afro that players such as Kobe Bryant and Chris Webber wear takes more daily upkeep.

"Yeah, you have to keep a style like those maintained," said Sonics guard Ray Allen, who wears the traditional fade. "Otherwise it doesn't look good at all."

Sonics Coach Nate McMillan remembers when forward Ansu Sesay couldn't get his hair done before practice once and came in with an Afro that looked about to be 12 inches around.

"It looked like a bat ran through there," McMillan said. "I've seen some styles I know I would never let my son have."

Then again, McMillan kept the popular 1980s flattop fade until he became a head coach in 2000.

"I had it 10 years after it had gone out of style," McMillan said. "And I'll never forget the day I changed my hair. I was coaching (as a Sonics assistant) and (associate head coach Dwane) Casey screamed something. Jalen Rose thought it was me yelling at him. He turned around and said, 'Look at you, still wearing that old (expletive) haircut.' I was so embarrassed I went home, told my wife and got a haircut the next day."

But as McMillan plays catch-up, the trend is sure to change. With tattoos covering their bodies, hair sprouting in every direction from their heads and accessories ranging from high socks to headbands, NBA players will soon run out of ways to show their independence.

Wait a second. They could follow Sacramento forward Scot Pollard in painting their nails.

Now that's scary.

Jayda Evans: 206-464-2067 or jevans@seattletimes.com