What Bowen brought to the Spurs was every bit as essential during their run of les and Finals appearances, particularly to coach Gregg Popovich, as the playmaking and scoring of Tony Parker, the creativity of Manu Ginobili and the fundamental wonderfulness of Tim Duncan. He was the starch in their black-and-silver shorts, the guy assigned to thwart the other team's most potent scorer and the San Antonio player who invariably became the lightning rod of abuse and invective for fans of 29 other teams.
Sufferers such as Kobe Bryant, Ray Allen, Steve Nash and Nowitzki directed our attention to Bowen's feet (allegedly stepping underneath jump shooters), legs (kicking into his man) and knees (aimed at quadriceps and groins), but I'll always remember his hands flailing around and about the ball-handler like the NHL's Sean Avery pestering Martin Brodeur or, as Phil Jackson said, Edward Scissorhands.
Dirty? At times it sure looked that way -- and Bowen was too good an athlete to pass those moments off as being clumsy. But he was tough, consistent and almost Eddie Haskell-like in his placid expressions through the most physical encounters. And like a single spoonful of castor oil, a little went a long way -- the idea of being guarded by Bowen seemed as distasteful to many NBA stars as the actual experience of it, given his reputation for making an opponent work. That alone made Bowen and the Spurs more effective.
Bowen was named to the All-Defensive team in each of his first eight full NBA seasons. He was runner-up three times for Defensive Player of the Year, though he never won the award that's worthy of being named after him. That doesn't really matter -- what matters is that teams determined to chase a championship feel compelled these days to find a "Bruce Bowen-type" of guy: a clingy, even irritating defender who, for long stretches or whole nights, can negate a dangerous weapon from the other guys' arsenal. Now, from
Raja Bell to James Posey, from Trevor Ariza to Jamario Moon, every alleged contender needs someone like Bowen if it expects to be taken seriously.
Some of the players are slightly different in size or build (Matt Barnes, Reggie Evans, Mickael Pietrus). Some, such as Tayshaun Prince, Shane Battier, Ron Artest, Ariza and DeShawn Stevenson, have other skills or attributes at their disposal, occasionally luring them away from Bowen-type duty. But then, Bowen himself never was just a defender, frequently stepping into the corners for a key three-point shot. What they all share at their best, though, is a defense-first focus that the NBA as a whole seems to welcome only in limited quan ies, no more than one or two per roster, while coaches, purists and home-team fans welcome them wherever they can find them. Because Bowen reminded us we should.
Summing up his career in his retirement session with reporters, Bowen said: "I hope my legacy would be as someone that never was satisfied with just being where they were."
His legacy goes well beyond that. From inside the offensive man's jersey and head, all the way to "-type" status.
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way to take a sentence out of context.