You remember Aaron McKie? You do. Combo guard, Philadelphia through and through. Through to the point that he was a Temple grad. Philly to the point that he went to Simon Gratz (I just learned this). City of Brotherly Love to the point that he was black like The Roots (all the way live from 2-1-5) with a goatee, but not a beard. He wasn’t drafted by the 76ers, but somehow, through some cosmic Andrew Toneyisms and Eric Snowdens, his qi guided him back home. McKie was a big-bodied, defensive minded, role playing guard. A physical presence to counterbalance the reckless litheness of Allen Iverson. McKie wasn’t much of a jump shooter and he cut against the grain of things by wearing number eight, but he was a lunch pail and hardhat guy in a blue collar, frill-free way that Philly can embrace. McKie embodied his hometown: Philly like a cold wind, Philly like booing an injured opponent, Philly like unfair expectations, Philly like Von Hayes.
For present-day comparisons, feel free to compare McKie to a more horizontal and technical, less athletic version of Tony Allen.
Dancing With Noah 