‘Nique the Greek Finally Gets a Title

Before leaving for the riot, I dialed Dominique Wilkins on his hotline phone number here in Athens, 090 23 26 12. (I am not sure how many drachmas per minute.)

I heard a woman speak Greek. Well, I guess it was Greek. It’s all, oh, you know, to me. And then I heard: “Hello, basketball fans. This is Dominique Wilkins.”

Hello, Dominique.

“Thank you for calling. This will allow me to comment to you about recent games in Greece, about European basketball, about NBA basketball, and, later on, about Olympic basketball.

“But right now, as you know, we have just won a big game against CSKA Moscow in the European Final Four. But only one-half our mission is complete. So, if you have any tips, please feel free to leave me a message. And one lucky caller will receive a personal call, from me.”

Thanks, Dominique. Maybe I will.

But first I have to grab a cab. I have to get over to Omonia Square, in downtown Athens, so I won’t miss the riot.

I can hear it already.

Horns honking. Firecrackers cracking. I hope that wasn’t a gunshot.

“Why you want, go there?” my taxi driver asks.

“I am a writer,” I say.

“What you write?”

I cannot resist. “Books for children,” I say. “Children’s books about Greek gods.”

“What your name?”

“Doctor Zeus.”

He takes me to Omonia Square. Young men are sitting on hoods of cars. Some wave blue-and-white flags. Some blow into air horns. There are hundreds more in the street. It looks like Lexington, Ky., only with monuments.

The driver lets me out. He says, “Good luck to you, Doctor.”

I approach a kid. Eighteen, could be 20. He blows his horn at me. It is better than blowing his cigarette smoke at me. His shirt reads: PANATHINAIKOS. It is the name of Greece’s basketball club.

He is chanting a name. I ask what it is.

“Nvvtkwhdndz!” he says.

Oh, Dominique Wilkins.

His name is different here from when he played for the Atlanta Hawks, for the Clippers, for the Boston Celtics, scoring 25,389 NBA points. Now that he is 36 and living here, he is Dominique Wilkins with a twist, a different pronunciation, a different spelling.

He is (let me try to spell it out):

Capital N, T with a tail, smaller O, backward lower-case Y, capital I, capital V, I with an accent, capital K.

(Dominique.)

Capital O, smaller U, I with an accent, backward lower-case H, capital K, capital I, capital V.

(Wilkins.)

Exactly the way it sounds: Nvvtkwhdndz.

Back home, we just called him “ ‘Nique.”

His uniform also is different. It is green and white, same as Boston’s. It has a shamrock, same as Boston’s. But it has BECK’S across the front. The Celtic uniforms don’t advertise beer.

Otherwise, he’s the same old ‘Nique.

“Yes,” says the kid from the hood. “He is Space Man.”

“Space Man!” agree his friends.

Good nickname, in any language. And their English is better than I had expected.

One asks: “You from America? You know Space Man?”

I say: “We call him ‘Nique.”

“ ‘Nique?”

Yes, I say. As in Greek.

He left the NBA to play here, for $7 million over two years. The Panathinaikos club is one of Europe’s richest. But its owner, Pavlos Yannakopolous, was fed up after failing twice to win the European championship. So, he imported Dominique, like a beer.

At the European Final Four--they actually call it that--in Paris at the Palais de Bercy arena, an estimated 8,000 Greeks were in attendance when their team met CSKA Moscow in the semifinal round Tuesday. Panathinaikos was victorious, 81-71. The Space Man scored 35 points.

The owner crowed: “This Final Four belongs to Panathinaikos, and Dominique will be our top gun. He is finally in brilliant form.”

Wilkins hadn’t started out so hot. Eventually, though, he adapted his game to the Europeans, or they to him.

Teams here don’t like to run. They believe in defense. Greece’s new coach, the Serb legend Bozidar Maljkovic, believes in defense. Dominique believes in offense. Dominique’s the one being paid $7 million. The Greeks run.

They are old. Their center, Stojko Vrankovic, is 32. Their point guard, Panagiotis Giannakis, is 37. Wilkins is almost that. But they run.

After the defeat of CSKA Moscow, fans here began to stampede into the street. Flags. Horns. It was as though Greece already was champion.

Next morning, it was big news.

Wilkins’ photo was everywhere, and he was quoted: “I want this title bad. I will devote it to my father and to the thousands of Panathinaikos fans who deserve this crown.”

Someone else deserved a crown: Dominique. He is among the NBA’s all-time top 10 scorers, but when you play for the Hawks, for the Clippers and for the new-age Celtics, your head remains visibly crown-free.

Thursday night, in Paris, he got one.

It was the same crown Toni Kukoc of the Chicago Bulls won in 1991, for Jugoplastika Split. It even came against the same opponent, Barcelona. In doubt until the final second, Greece won, 67-66.

Space Man finally got his championship. He scored 17 points.

Into the streets here, Greeks streaked. I arrive a few minutes later. The kid slides from the hood. He asks: “Why you are here?”

“I am a writer,” I say.

“Why you in Greece?”

I cannot resist. I say: “To replace John Travolta.”

His face is a blank. Nobody gets me here.

I stick around, watch the riot. OK, not a riot. A celebration. A wild Greek party, without the togas. Showtime at the home of Apollo.

Back at the hotel, I try Dominique’s hot line, one last time. Same voices as before. Then: “Please feel free to leave me a message.”

I hear a beep. A Greek beep is the same as an American beep. I feel lucky. I leave a message. Maybe he will call back.