A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.
Andre Iguodala is one of the talented few who have made it to the National Basketball Association. More remarkably, he has multiple defensive awards, an Olympic gold medal and three NBA championships on his résumé. When his Golden State Warriors won in 2015, Iguodala was the Finals MVP coming off the bench.
In the fittingly titled The Sixth Man, Iguodala reveals components of his success. It helps to be talented, hard-working and six-foot-six, but Iguodala wasn't always the tallest kid on the court. Having to change his game to deal with growth spurts of competitors was just one hurdle to becoming elite, a level he maintains even 15 years after being drafted ninth as a 19-year-old in 2004.
Iguodala's memoir is not a recitation of important games through his career, but rather the tale of the people and events that challenged and shaped him along the way. From his strong upbringing in Springfield, Ill., guided by his mother and grandmother, to the teachers, coaches, teammates and systems that honed him, Iguodala imparts insight and wisdom in a conversational yet expert style suffused with confidence and heart.
Iguodala also has had to deal with racism, which he experienced early on, after a seventh-grade teacher assumed he was lost when he showed up to honors class. Iguodala's story is a compelling and important one that provides a glimpse into what people of color face, from little boys to the height of stardom, in a country "designed to wreak absolute havoc on the confidence of black people."
STREET SENSE: Whether or not you're a basketball fan in general or a Warrior fan specifically, Iguodala's story should resonate with anyone interested in sports, competition, community, and how to rise to the top.
A FAVORITE PASSAGE: As Americans, we are led to believe that this in and of itself should be the path toward complete satisfaction. If we make enough money, have enough success, then we should be free from all struggles--or more accurately, our struggles are no longer valid. But what most of us find after a while, and much to our surprise, is that even with all the cash and prizes, the question of purpose remains. Pain and suffering still remain. Anger and frustration still remain. It would seem that most people who gain some measure of what we think of as material success have experienced this truth, but the effect is amplified for black people. Because of our shared destiny, it is not possible for one of us to be completely free and happy while our collective people are subject to violence, oppression, and dehumanization. Or rather, the only way for such a thing to be possible is if that person makes a conscious decision to turn their back entirely on their people. And that cannot be me.
COVER NERD SAYS: You know this one had me at black-and-white portrait against a clean background. Great fonts, sneaky-smart use of Warrior jersey colors, and handsome don't hurt this cover's game at all.
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