I still remember that Monday announcement like it was yesterday. The 2001 NBA MVP award went to Allen Iverson, and honestly, it was one of those moments that just felt right in basketball history. As someone who's followed the NBA for decades, I've seen many great players, but Iverson's 2001 season was something special - it wasn't just about the numbers, though those were impressive enough, but about how he carried an entire franchise on his shoulders and changed the way people thought about basketball.

When the news broke that Monday, it didn't really surprise most basketball insiders. We'd been watching Iverson put together what might be the most remarkable season by a sub-six-foot player in NBA history. He averaged 31.1 points per game that year, which led the league, along with 2.5 steals per game. But what made his MVP case so compelling was how he transformed the Philadelphia 76ers from a middling team into legitimate championship contenders. I've always believed MVP awards should go to players who make their teams significantly better, and Iverson embodied that principle perfectly.

The way he played was just electrifying. I recall watching game after game where he'd be diving for loose balls, playing through injuries that would sideline most players, and consistently delivering in clutch moments. His usage rate was through the roof - around 35.9% if I remember correctly - but the Sixers needed every bit of his offensive creation. What people sometimes forget is that Philadelphia didn't have another consistent scoring threat, which made Iverson's production even more valuable. He wasn't just putting up numbers in a system designed for him; he was the system.

Defensively, Iverson was equally impactful despite his size. He averaged those 2.5 steals by taking incredible risks that few coaches would tolerate from other players. Larry Brown, his coach at the time, gave him the freedom to play his style because he understood that Iverson's defensive gambles often sparked Philadelphia's transition offense. I've always admired how Brown managed to channel Iverson's relentless energy without stifling what made him special. That coach-player relationship was crucial to Iverson's MVP season, even though they had their famous disagreements.

The narrative around his MVP win was powerful too. He led the Sixers to 56 wins in the regular season, which was the best record in the Eastern Conference. More importantly, he brought an undeniable swagger and identity to that team. When I think back to that season, I remember how every kid on playgrounds was suddenly crossing people over and wearing sleeve protectors - Iverson's cultural impact was that significant. The league had never seen a player quite like him, someone who combined incredible skill with raw, uncompromising authenticity.

What made his MVP season particularly memorable was how he performed against elite competition. I'll never forget his 51-point game against Toronto or his 46 points against Milwaukee during that stretch run. These weren't empty statistics either - they were crucial victories that secured Philadelphia's position atop the conference. The advanced metrics back this up too, with his player efficiency rating sitting around 24.0 for the season, which was among the league's best.

The voting itself wasn't particularly close, which reflected how dominant his case was. He received 93 first-place votes out of a possible 124, comfortably ahead of Tim Duncan and Shaquille O'Neal. Looking back, I think the voters got it right that year. While Duncan and Shaq had fantastic seasons, neither carried their team's offense to the degree Iverson did. Philadelphia's offense basically consisted of "get the ball to AI and get out of the way," and it worked remarkably well.

Iverson's playing style took a physical toll that would have broken most players. He listed at 165 pounds, though I suspect he played lighter than that, yet he consistently drove into trees of bigger defenders and took punishment that would make tougher men wince. His durability that season was remarkable - he played 42.0 minutes per game while dealing with various injuries that would have sidelined lesser competitors. That toughness became part of his legend and certainly influenced MVP voters who appreciated his old-school mentality.

The cultural significance of Iverson's MVP season can't be overstated. He represented something new in the NBA - a player who was uncompromisingly himself while delivering elite performance. His influence extended beyond basketball into fashion and popular culture, making the NBA relevant to audiences that might not have otherwise engaged with the sport. From my perspective covering the league at that time, Iverson's MVP season marked a turning point in how the NBA marketed individual stars and embraced personality.

When that Monday announcement came, it felt like validation for everyone who believed basketball could be played differently. Iverson proved that heart and determination could overcome physical limitations, that style and substance could coexist, and that a single player could redefine what was possible in the game. His MVP season remains one of my favorite basketball memories because it demonstrated that greatness comes in many forms. Two decades later, I still see elements of Iverson's game in today's guards - the crossover moves, the fearless drives, the willingness to take big shots. That's the true measure of an MVP season - it doesn't just reward individual excellence but leaves a permanent mark on the sport itself.