Worth a Second Glance

They are about the same age. They are at the tops of their games. They are so different.

So what can we learn from Jennifer Capriati and Allen Iverson?

First impressions are lasting, that’s one thing we can say with some certainty. And what we decide to think about athletes, about their troubles and their triumphs, is more about us than about them.

The most uplifting continuing sports story of the year is Capriati’s run at the tennis Grand Slam. Capriati, who turned 25 in March, has already won the Australian Open and French Open.

By doing that, she has completed a stunning turnaround. She has changed from a teenager who hated her sport and herself, who dabbled in drugs and was charged with shoplifting, into a fit, confident athlete who is reveling in the joy of playing and doing her best.

When Capriati held her arms high Saturday at Roland Garros Stadium in Paris, when her brother Steve hugged her, gathering his big sister in his arms so that all we saw was Jennifer’s back, which was heaving as she sobbed, there was nothing to do but cheer--and cry--with her.

We loved Capriati when she was 14, when her ponytail and her smile shimmered in the summer sun, when she wore a bracelet given to her by Chris Evert, when she could run right into the semifinals of her first French Open and giggle and say that Napoleon was “that short dead dude.”

Instead of disgust or anger when Capriati let her tennis talent disintegrate, when her tour photos were replaced with police mug shots, what most people felt was pity or sorrow for a young woman who clearly had lost her way.

Since her return to professional tennis five years ago, after two years away, Capriati has been welcomed everywhere and cheered by nearly everyone. Her first tentative steps were accorded standing ovations. Even when she was terribly out of shape and losing first-round matches, she was embraced.

The Capriati of 25 was what we wanted the Capriati of 14 to be--a happy, bubbly, committed and fit winner.

Now that Capriati is winning, now that it is clear she is playing the game because she loves it and not because her parents pushed her, not because she had become the family breadwinner, she is being treated by the public as if she were that 14-year-old again, with no baggage, no past.

When Capriati is praised, there is no stampede of critics asking how dare she be praised, how dare we forget the bad things she did, how dare we excuse her mistakes.

People aren’t saying there was no reason an extremely wealthy, pampered teenager ended up in a dirty hotel room full of drugs or in a mall jewelry store with cheap trinkets in her purse and no receipt in her pocket.

Most are happy for Capriati, impressed that she has found her way, thrilled to root for her to win Wimbledon and the U.S. Open in achieving a historic triumph.

If they criticize, it is the parents who receive the blame. Stefano, the father who was coach and trainer, omnipresent in too-tight shorts and a scowl, and Denise, the mother who kept traveling the WTA Tour for a time even when Jennifer had quit playing, who could be spotted sitting alone in player lounges. The blame for Jennifer’s rebellion was most often put on Stefano and Denise.

Or on the WTA Tour, which promoted Capriati when she was only 14, was happy to tab her as the next Evert, wanted her to play as many events as possible, to attend as many sponsor parties as possible.

Or even on the media, which heaped attention on Capriati but never explained the whole story, never showed how hard it is for a teenage girl who struggled with acne and weight, with just growing up.

But it wasn’t Jennifer’s fault. It couldn’t be. That would mean we were wrong in our first impression.

Iverson, who turned 26 last week, is playing extraordinary basketball and has dragged the undermanned Philadelphia 76ers into the NBA Finals against the Lakers.

It has been well documented how this season’s most valuable player and leading scorer in the NBA has changed his attitude and behavior, how he has embraced the benefits of being a team leader, of being the first and sometimes even the last guy at practice, of how he understands his coach is boss and how he has admitted and apologized for some of his previous misdeeds.

Yet, when these things about Iverson are pointed out, it is often not applause he gets.

Our first impressions of him were of a heavily tattooed, slightly defiant college player who had just been released from prison after doing time for his part in a bowling alley brawl.

Our first impressions were of the young NBA pro with cornrows and even more tattoos, of his menacing-appearing hometown friends, his “posse,” it was called.

Unless you were paying attention to the 76ers, most likely what you remembered of Iverson were brushes with the law and his alienating coaches and teammates.

Less was made of his incredible talent and more made of his personality. That’s always been the quick and easy story to tell--of the baggy clothes and tattoos on the outside--instead of trying to find out what was inside.

Even now, as Iverson appears to have grown into a fine athlete, a great teammate, a responsible father, it’s easier to accept only the first impression and not take time to get a second one.

As anyone who has written something complimentary of Iverson in recent days has discovered, many don’t buy it. They don’t accept the change. They see only the tattoos and cornrows, they remember the trouble and don’t notice the improvement.

Why is it so easy to celebrate Capriati’s changes and success and so difficult to do the same for Iverson?

It might be easy to say race. But that’s not right. A white athlete who has the tattoos and the attitude, one such as Jason Williams of the Sacramento Kings, is not embraced.

It’s about ourselves. We believed, from what we saw and were told, that Capriati was a sweet and soon-to-be champion. Whatever she did, that doesn’t matter now. Now she is what she was always supposed to be.

We believed, from what we saw and were told, that Iverson was a punk, a gangster, a bad guy whose talent was making a mockery of his sport. Whatever Iverson has done since, doesn’t matter to some. Too many want Iverson to be the punk, the gangster, the bad guy whose talent still makes a mockery of his game.

First impressions. Lasting impressions.

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Diane Pucin can be reached at

diane.pucin@latimes.com.