4.16.2012

Did Dwight Howard cost himself big-time dollars by taking his youth for granted?

Some very wise basketball observer (or several) said years ago that youth is wasted on the young, and height wasted on the tall. Dwight Howard, clearly, has not wasted his height.

His youth, though? He may have fallen into the oldest trap in sports. He took that youth for granted.


Howard can’t do that anymore, even though he’s just 26 years old. Bad backs will add years to your chronological age like few other injuries will. The news about his back has gotten progressively worse throughout the past few days. The latest, as of Sunday morning, was that his herniated disk will require at least 10 days off for rest; that he received an epidural Saturday, and that he’ll begin physical therapy Monday.

And then, after the rest, the Orlando Magic and Howard will see how things are going.

Intriguing. Uncertainty that, this time, Howard has absolutely no control over.

Never will he see a sharper distinction between the unpredictability he has exhibited throughout the past year, when he just couldn’t make up his mind about the next step of his NBA career, and the unpredictability of that very career.

Too bad he never considered that while he waffled about whether he wanted to sign a contract extension with the Magic, or get traded, or pick a team to which he wanted to be traded, or pass the whole decision off until next season. Now, he may never know how much his indecision cost him.

By nature, young athletes have an invincibility complex. They think they’ll be young and in their primes forever. They don’t think otherwise until they’re suddenly neither. They believe they have all the time in the world.

The world, too, usually thinks they have all the time in the world, which is why it loves telling players to stay in school another year or two or three, because “the money will still be there.” As if the peak of their abilities always will be, too.

Of course, the world has its own agenda, and for some reason, it includes young basketball players spending part of that prime making coaches like John Calipari or Roy Williams richer.

Dwight Howard never had to deal with that, but it appears that he bought into the idea that his window was wide open and led to infinity. That he had all sorts of time to make up his mind. That he’d always be the best center in the NBA, the object of teams’ lust from coast to coast, the centerpiece of somebody’s championship hopes for the next decade—and entitled to a contract that would re-set the bar.

Somebody’s gonna get him and pay him, right? Look how great he is now, and he’s gonna get better! He’s only 26!

Howard changed his mind—or steadfastly refused to make it up—over and over, and at last month’s trade deadline, at the 11th hour, decided to give himself even more time, by waiving his right to opt out of his contract this summer.

That made him a hero in Orlando and in plenty of other segments of the public. Hey, see, he’s loyal, he’s not just about grabbing the money the first chance he gets.

He might now spend this summer, his non-opting-out summer, rehabbing that back. That so-called first chance to cash in ... well, it’s way beyond the first chance now ... that’s gone.

Now he’s the best center in the NBA with back issues that have all but killed the rest of this season, possibly the playoffs, and possibly the rest of his career.

Howard should be able to play again, maybe as well as he played before, even as well as he has played most of this season while becoming a soap opera in short, pinstriped pants.

On the other hand, maybe he won’t.

The list of past and present players derailed by bad backs is almost too long to print. We do know that Amare Stoudamire is on the outside looking in on the Knicks’ late playoff push. Derrick Rose has had to witness much of the Bulls’ surge from the bench.

Larry Bird’s career ended with him prone on the floor near his bench, watching his Celtics make an early playoff exit. David Robinson’s bad back actually altered NBA history; with him out nearly all of the 1996-97 season, the Spurs wound up in position to draft Tim Duncan.

Howard’s suddenly questionable health, short-term and long-term, won’t leave him on food stamps any time soon.

But if he thinks that today, as his ideal basketball body fails him in a way it never had before, he has the same options he had just a few weeks ago, he’s sadly mistaken.

Howard is still just as tall, but he’s finding out the hard way that he’s not just as young.

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