Tattoos Are Leaving a Lasting Impression on One Out of Every Three Players in the NBA

First things first. Shaquille O’Neal had to get permission from his mother.

“I asked her,” O’Neal said. “She told me I could.”

So he went to the nearest tattoo parlor to have a Superman emblem inscribed across the expanse of his biceps.

It was the first of several tattoos, with considerable thought given to the design and location of each addition. An Egyptian symbol on his left shoulder. On the opposite arm, the words “Against the Law” above a fist clutching a globe.

To hear him tell it, this was not just personal aggrandizement. This was a mission.

O’Neal cannot claim to be the first basketball player to cover himself so copiously with body art. Dennis Rodman holds that honor.

But the Lakers’ center-rapper-actor insists that he is the one who made tattoos hip in the NBA.

“After I started getting them,” he said with that lopsided grin of his, “seems like everybody started getting them.”

Right on the button

There are so many tattoos in the league this season that some games look like shore leave.

Or call it a hip-hop revival of the body markings that primitive man once used to announce his status within the tribe.

In the NBA, that translates into both style and folly.

Like the elegant sunburst around Reggie Miller’s bellybutton. Or the slam-dunking Fred Flintstone on Greg Ostertag’s calf.

Tom Gugliotta updated the traditional heart tattoo, getting a permanent wedding band on his ring finger. Doug Christie wears a morphed face--half his wife, half his daughter.

In all, 35% of the players who reported to training camps this season bore one or more tattoos, according to an Associated Press survey. By comparison, an estimated 4% of all Americans have tattoos.

No one has taken to the needles and pigment like the league’s newcomers. The rookies have followed Rodman’s lead, collecting swirls of markings.

“Oh my God,” said Antonio Davis, the Indiana Pacer veteran who wears a simple heart. “Every young guy you see nowadays, they’ve got one on each arm, one on each leg, the whole nine yards.”

Denver, Toronto, Minnesota--teams with youthful rosters--have become traveling art exhibits. Eight of the 14 players on the Portland Trail Blazers have tattoos.

Damon Stoudamire has one on each arm, including his famous Mighty Mouse. Carlos Rogers has three, starting with “Bonz” on his right shoulder.

“That was what my sister called me,” Rogers said. “She called me ‘skin and bones’ but I didn’t have enough money to get the ‘skin.’ ”

Teammate Kelvin Cato leads the team with six tattoos, including his NBA draft number on his ankle.

“Once you get one, you’re going to get another,” the rookie from Iowa State said. “It’s all about self-control.”

Camera-ready

For Tim Duncan, self-control ended as soon he moved away from home.

“College,” the San Antonio Spur rookie said. “The first chance I had, I got one.”

Then he got another. A colorful wizard marks his chest, a magician on his back. Duncan is a thoughtful young man and, when asked why he wanted the tattoos, he ponders a moment.

“I just always liked them,” he said. “I don’t know what it is.”

At USC, pop culture observer Todd Boyd thinks he has an answer, one that is specific to both basketball and the rarefied atmosphere of the NBA.

“The players are so visible because they play in tank tops,” Boyd said. “And we’re talking about a sport unlike baseball, unlike football, that came of age with television.

“Basketball has always defined itself by . . . this sense of youth culture, what is trendy.”

With all due respect to O’Neal, the tattoo trend began with rap musicians in the early 1990s, said Boyd, whose books include “Am I Black Enough for You?” and “Out of Bounds: Sports, Media and the Politics of Identity.” As the fad spread from music to sports, including the college and high school ranks, it became another signpost marking a generation of baggy pants, earrings and Tommy Hilfiger.

Boyd insists that “when you’re talking about the NBA, you’re talking about a league that is 80% black. You’re getting an expression of African-American culture that might be foreign to a lot of people watching the game.”

Ten years ago, those people (read: middle class, mostly white) might have been aghast.

The Old Testament discouraged body art. So did Muhammad. For much of the 20th century, it was largely the domain of sailors, bikers and prisoners.

But modern perceptions have softened. “It seems like the shock value has dissipated,” said Irma Zandl, a New York consultant who specializes in youth marketing.

Now people complain more about aesthetics than respectability.

A Los Angeles tattoo artist says the artwork he sees in the NBA is “pretty lousy.” Trevor Marshall, of Oceanic Tattoo, is referring to convoluted beasts and illegibly lavish script.

“They should stay away from the detailed work,” Marshall said. “Go for something that is bolder and simpler.”

O’Neal’s mother knows what he means. “She said that if I’m going to get tattoos, just make them look neat,” O’Neal said. “Just bang, bang, bang rather than all over the place.”

Veteran players--even some with tattoos--tend to agree.

“Sometimes it just seems like a big mess, like scribble,” Davis said. “Maybe it’s self-expression . . . actually, it’s crazy. I want to tell them, ‘Man, you can do better than that.’ ”

Heart of the matter

An hour before game time, Maurice Taylor showed off his collection. At first glance, it’s pretty basic stuff.

A snarling dog (see: Allen Iverson), a basketball (Marcus Camby, Kevin Garnett, even Del Harris) and his name in intricate letters (just about everyone else).

Then he tugged up his shirt. Close to his heart is a striking portrait of a dignified-looking man--his late grandfather.

“It’s something to express where you’ve been or where you are going, something you can be individual with,” the Clipper rookie said. “I know that no one’s going to have my grandfather on their chest.” The way Taylor sees it, there are worse ways of expressing his identity. He could wear his shorts too long and draw a $2,500 fine from the league’s fashion police.

That’s what happened to Stephon Marbury, whose multiple tattoos are evidently acceptable.

“You even see some of the old guys getting them now,” Laker center Sean Rooks said. “I mean straight-up professionals. I think I saw Derek Harper with one.”

A self-professed maverick, Rooks considered several options before getting a panther’s head on his ankle.

“I thought about a nose ring and I thought about a bellybutton ring,” Rooks said. “But the bellybutton ring was a little too much and the nose ring would hurt.”

Most players said they felt more than enough pain inside the tattoo parlor, facing an electric device whose multiple needles pierced their skin at high speed.

“It hurts, but after the pain you like what you see,” Cato explained. “I mean, I don’t know what it’s going to look like when I’m 65 or 70, but right now it’s OK.”

When asked about physical discomfort, O’Neal just shook his head. Running out of empty space along his lengthy arms, he plans to add the words “Warrior Quiller” across his stomach.

“Hurt?” he said. “Nah, man, nothing hurts me.”