Keon Clark is 35 years old now. He’s in prison. He’ll be in prison until 2013.

It’s an unfortunate situation for a man blessed with so many natural gifts. Little did we know then how much his vices would consume his fledgling career. Actually, that’s a lie. We did know; we just collectively chose to ignore. The NBA is at the mercy of talent, and Clark was very little if not talented.

Clark has spent much of the past decade and a half in a dizzying haze, learning nothing from the consequences that have plagued his collegiate and professional career. For as long as he played basketball, he was impervious. His nonchalance and ripe innocence always shielded him from too much harm. For all of the suspensions and negative press he garnered in college, he still managed to be a lottery pick in 1998. He was 6’11 with a 7’5″ wingspan and a 40-inch vertical leap. He was a shot blocking extraordinaire with good enough touch and form on his jumpshot. You just don’t find that every year. He was the unlabeled elixir. You didn’t know what would happen with him on your team, but it was always worth the risk.

It was worth all of the fact checking reports citing his attendance at four different colleges due to academic trouble, among other things; worth all of the drug-related suspensions in college; worth all of the confounding questions.

Are his legs too skinny? Will his afflictions resurface? Can he maintain focus once basketball becomes more than just fun and games?

Gerry Callahan’s article on Clark before the 1998 NBA Draft previewing the hope and skepticism that defined Clark’s career at that point brought to light some key concerns. A few things that we should have taken a bit more seriously:

Clark says that as a kid he never thought about playing in the NBA, and it’s not hard to believe him. The NBA is tomorrow; the carefree Clark doesn’t like to think beyond today. “It sounds funny, but I really don’t think he’s followed the NBA much,” says John Spezia, the coach at Danville Area Community College, where Clark took classes briefly but never played. “He likes to do lots of things, sing, tell jokes. He’s a nice, fun-loving kid, but sometimes he can be in his own world.”

Retrieved from SI Vault: Prince or Frog?: Keon Clark from UNLV is the great unknown of this year’s draft

We aren’t kids forever. Whatever it is that keeps us away from harm in our developmental stages disappears. Some of us are aware of it early. Some of us never realize when that time has long past. At that point, being a kid is not so much a gate of passage, but an identity. Identity doesn’t break easily. And when you’ve spent your whole life seeing basketball as a playground game, you can lose track of time. And when you begin to get really, really good at it — and when the media begins to shower you with expectations on something you never took seriously — you can start to wonder whether it’s basketball you’re good at, or the art of evading adulthood.

Keon Clark was traded to the Toronto Raptors from the Denver Nuggets in 2001. He was 25. Then-Nuggets coach Dan Issel’s intemperate rage was enough to bring a man to tears, let alone a man-child like Clark. While his third year with the Nuggets was promising, his production would magnify in the 46 games he played with the Raptors after the trade. His point production had gone up by 2.5 points a game from Denver to Toronto (from 6.5 to 9.0), along with his efficiency. In the similar minutes, he blocked one more shot a game for the Raptors than he did for the Nuggets.

Clark’s favorite ability was the tip dunk, a rare maneuver that took full advantage of his superior length and athleticism. But beyond the put back, he was simply an outstanding offensive rebounder. In limited minutes, he posted offensive rebounding percentages hovering around 9.2 his entire career, which would fit right in with current NBA big men like Pau Gasol, Kevin Garnett, and Tim Duncan. Granted, Clark never topped 27 minutes a game for any team he played on — and his career only lasted five seasons; his two games in Utah and cameo in Phoenix don’t count — but for that finite window of time, Clark produced admirably.

Clark’s eye-opening 2002 season would prove to be an even narrower pinhole. Clark’s overall success  grew along with his playing time due to a severely limited Toronto Raptors team. Vince Carter had gone through numerous injuries, displacing him from the All-Star Game and the 2002 Playoffs, leaving Antonio Davis, and second year swingman Morris Peterson to step in as de-facto scoring options. Clark contributed 11.3 points a game, grabbing 7.4 rebounds a game mostly from the bench, both career highs.

But if there was any notion that Clark was destined to be a star, it unveiled itself on April 29, 2002. A Carter-less Raptors team faced first round elimination against the Detroit Pistons. Down in the series 2-1, the Raptors rallied behind a 19 point, 16 rebound (seven of which were offensive) spectacular from Clark. In a time where most would fold under improbable circumstances, Clark demonstrated fortitude and surprisingly heightened skills. Clark shot 93.8% from the free throw line in the Pistons series, which is notable considering he’s a 64% career free throw shooter. After missing one free throw in Game 1, Clark would go on to make 14-14 of his free throws for the rest of the series.

The performance was enough to award him a raise the following season, as he was signed with Sacramento for a one-year, $4.5 million deal. That of course, would be the last notable destination of Clark’s professional career. His years after his year in Sacramento are hazy; a litany of convictions and court cases, and admissions that perhaps should’ve been kept to himself.

Clark served as an overture to Eddie Griffin, who held a far more disturbing/depressing narrative;  and, perhaps now, Sean Williams, Clark’s equal in talent, ability, and delusion. But those two never had the media skills that Clark had. Griffin was a recluse, and Williams managed to do all of the wrong things before we were able to see more than a glimmer of his talent.

Clark always said the right things. He sold us on him.

Clark often leaves them smiling. Unlike another troubled but talented former UNLV star, Portland Trail Blazers guard Isaiah Rider, Clark disarms his critics with a playful demeanor. “J.R. was J.R.,” he says. “I’m a different person.” Gregarious and upbeat, Clark does not squirm or scowl when confronted with his mistakes. He explains them without a hint of remorse. “I never regret anything,” he says. “I just try to learn from everything I do.”

Retrieved from SI Vault: Prince or Frog?: Keon Clark from UNLV is the great unknown of this year’s draft

He had the charisma that made us believe that he was everything we wanted of him. He did it with jokes and a puppy dog exuberance that we all ate up. He said the right things until he stopped saying the right things. Until he admitted to drinking alcohol during halftimes, and claiming to have never played a game sober. Basketball was just a game to him; a drunken carousel that fed his neuroses. Basketball was a way to run through life unscathed. Now that basketball is gone, he’s left to pick up the pieces of his fragmented identity. And he’ll have plenty of time for that behind bars.

Keon Clark left as soon as he arrived. The NBA was Clark’s five-year escape to Neverland. He’s since come crashing into a dreadful reality. The majority have moved on, but for those who have been left wondering what happened and where it all went and how it left so soon, maybe it’s time to follow suit. Sean Williams may have a chance to pick up the mantle of Clark’s redemption, but Williams has his own hurdles to overcome before stepping into someone else’s legacy. And besides, what is left of Keon Clark to redeem?

We are all slaves to talent and the lure of excellence. It frees us from mundanity, but it blinds us from reality. Clark hasn’t played a game in seven years, and I’ve spent countless hours wondering why I still care. And it scares me that I still don’t know the answer to that question. My memories of Clark are vivid. Maybe that’s what keeps his image alive. But really, the show has long been over. There is nothing left to see here.