Editor's Note: Here's b schac with a splendid post on none other than H20. Arichmix is up next with his post on LJ.

Allan Houston taught me how to shoot without saying a word.

I'm not the only one either. A generation of young Knicks fans were lucky enough to see nine years of the man with perhaps the most picture perfect jumpshot in the history of the NBA. Not to say he's the greatest shooter of all time. He was a great shooter, but not the best. His jumper, though, the way in which he shot, was about as good as it got. All the advice your youth coach gave you--elbow in, shooting hand under the ball, off hand guiding it, etc.--could more easily have conveyed by just saying "Do it like Allan does."

I tried. I really did. Fifth grade was the peak of my hoops career. I was a straight baller out of the Marbury mold. My penetration to the right side was practically unstoppable, but I lacked a jumper. Opposing coaches were beginning to catch on.

"FORCE HIM LEFT!" "GIVE HIM THE SHOT!"

Lucky for me, it happened to be the following summer that the New York Knicks, my heart and soul, signed sweet shooting Pistons guard Allan Houston to a free agent deal worth about $35 million over 5 years. I remember first reading about it (along with the companion Chris Childs signing) on the cover of the now non-existent Inside Sports, as part of a story about a lucrative summer for NBA free agents.

I didn't really get the money issue, as I was only 10. I was intrigued by this guy, though. "Can he shoot like Starks?" was my immediate thought, not realizing I was probably aiming a little low. But that was the first I heard of the player who would soon be my favorite. Whose jumper I would spend hours in the park trying to emulate (with varying levels of success). A guy with whom my love for the Knicks grew from a childhood interest into a full blown obsession. Allan's tenure just so happens to coincide with the years I fell in love with the boys from MSG, and I think it's safe to say that his sweet J had a lot to do with it.

I'm 21 now, so while I remember rooting for the Knicks in the 1994 Finals against the Rockets, I can't have really understood what was going on. I'd just turned 8. I knew the players' names and loved the game of basketball (as I said, I was a world class point guard at this point), but I didn't really get the ins and outs of the game. Allan, LJ, Spree, Camby, a declining Pat, and a few others, are the real Knicks team of my youth. When I really started to understand the game as it was happening. And it was a hell of a team to root for. Terrific defense, a ton of heart, and the best shooter in the NBA.

Allan was beautiful to watch. He wasn't the best player in the NBA, far from it. But when it came down it, he accomplished the primary object of this game about as well as anybody in the else. He put the ball in the basket. All the other stats are about setting up the shot, preventing the shot, getting more shots. Allan just made the shots. One particular shot, of course, stands out. 1999. 1st round upset against the Miami Heat. Strangely, it was a runner that Allan hit. And it wasn't pure like so many of his jumpers. It bounced twice on the rim before falling. It was a shot perhaps more fitting of Spree than the set-and-swish Houston. But he made it. One of the most memorable shots in playoff history. Cause that's what Allan did. He made shots.

I finally met Allan two years ago, after more than half a decade of idolization and imitation. I was in college at Michigan now, and the Knicks were coming to town to face the Pistons. This was the Larry Brown year, so needless to say, the Knicks had their asses handed to them. It was still fun to see them live, though, now that I was living a few hundred miles away. At the end of the game, I was standing around with my friend. We'd moved down from our nosebleed seats to around courtside when I saw Allan dressed in a charcoal suit, standing by the sideline. At this point, his status was up in the air, but it looked like his retirement was forthcoming.

I didn't know what to say really. I shook his hand, and attempted to appear as sincere as possible when I said "I'm a huge fan, man." I wanted him to know I really was, not like the others (who in my mind were just sycophants). I was too nervous to say much, and I've never really been into autographs, so I just said "We're all hoping to see you back." He smiled and I walked away.

Allan's career wasn't generally characterized by dramatic or emotional moments. He wasn't that kind of player. Just an incredibly nice guy who went to work every day draining jump shots for my favorite team. And a real inspiration to anyone who works his ass off to become a better player. Best coach I ever had, and the dude doesn't even know my name. That's how perfect that J was.