“I think my numbers match up with some of the guys that are in the Hall of Fame,”  McGrady said. “Whether or not I get in, it really doesn’t matter to me. I’m a guy from Auburndale, Florida (with) a population of 10,000 people, grew up in a pretty bad neighborhood, so to me, I’m Hall of Fame just by making it through my career.”

-- Tracy McGrady, CSN Houston

Almost as soon as Tracy McGrady announced his retirement last week, the debate about his legacy began. In his prime, he was one of the best players in the NBA. McGrady put up incredible statistics for almost a decade, but his teams were never able to advance out of the first round. While no one denies his talent, the question is whether his lack of postseason success will keep him out of the Hall of Fame. More broadly, how will he be remembered by history?

Unlike Allen Iverson, McGrady doesn’t have a signature run in the playoffs that he’ll be remembered for. His greatest moments were in the regular season; his best postseason performances came in defeat. McGrady was a great player on otherwise average teams whose career was cut short by injury. It’s not the type of story that fits neatly into a 30-minute NBA TV retrospective. None of that, though, has much to do with how good he was at basketball.

Like every great player of his generation, McGrady came up in Michael Jordan’s shadow. As the story goes, Jordan didn’t become the greatest of all-time by having the most talent, but by refusing to lose and “willing” his team to victory. It’s the Green Lantern Theory of Basketball: if a player is sufficiently pure of heart, he can carry his team to a championship. Conversely, if his team falls short in the playoffs, there must be something wrong with him.

These days, Jordan is like any other 50-year old dealing with a second career, a second marriage and kids in college getting in trouble. "MJ" was just a character he played on TV. Even at the height of his powers, his presence did not guarantee a championship. When Scottie Pippen got a migraine in Game 7 of the 1990 Eastern Conference Finals, the Chicago Bulls lost. The next season, with Pippen at full strength, they swept the Detroit Pistons.  

The whole thing is pure narcissism, denying the agency of the other nine players on the court. The “supporting cast” can’t succeed or fail under their own weight; their actions are only matter as reflections of the mindset of the team’s best player. So when the Orlando Magic and Houston Rockets lose in the first round, it makes McGrady a choke artist. Everyone involved in the series becomes a supporting character in the TV show of his life.

When you examine his career, it’s hard to pin all the blame for the first-round exits on him. In his six playoff defeats with Orlando and Houston, McGrady averaged 29 points, 7 rebounds and 6 assists a game on 43 percent shooting. Very few basketball players, in any era, can match that type of production in the postseason. After all, there have been very few 6’9 225 forwards, ever, with the ability to score, pass, rebound and defend at a high level.

Nevertheless, he could have done more. In sports, you always can. The same could be said for Yao Ming and Jeff Van Gundy, Ron Artest and Shane Battier, Jon Barry and Bobby Sura. If the Rockets' front office had landed another difference maker in that time period, everyone in the organization would have been richer and more accomplished. Basketball is a team game; you win and lose as a team. They aren't playing tennis out there.

From a historical perspective, things never quite came together for McGrady. He lost three first-round Game 7’s. Grant Hill was injured in Orlando; Yao got injured in Houston. His knees gave out at 29, prematurely shortening his career. Paul Pierce, in contrast, got a second wind at 30, when the Boston Celtics surrounded him with Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. McGrady never got the chance to play on a team like that.

In terms of career accomplishments, he is far behind contemporaries like Kobe Bryant, LeBron James and Dwyane Wade. As time goes by, he will likely be overshadowed by younger guys like Kevin Durant as well, with years of playoff runs ahead of them. Like Grant Hill and Penny Hardaway, McGrady may ultimately be remembered more for what he could have been. It’s no one’s fault really; there’s no rhyme or reason to any of this stuff.

If McGrady doesn’t make the Hall of Fame, he has no reason to hang his head. As an individual in a team sport, his legacy depends in large part on forces outside his control. All any player can do is live in the moment and let the chips fall where they may. The alternative is pretty disturbing. Should McGrady spend the next 30+ years of his life belittling the accomplishments of those who come after him to prop up his ego? His place in the all-time hierarchy is at stake!

Legacy is ego talking. He has been criticized for warming the bench for the San Antonio Spurs during last year’s playoffs, a move “unworthy” of a player of his stature. How would it affect fans’ memory of him? Nevermind whether he would have enjoyed it or whether he could have helped the Spurs if Manu Ginobili went down. Apparently, he should be making important decisions in his life based on how they will be perceived by people he doesn’t know and will never meet.

In his last stint in the NBA, McGrady was part of a championship-level team. It sounds like a great experience, regardless of how it affected public perception of him. By any reasonable measure of success, he had an incredible career in pro basketball. At the end of the day, “T-Mac” is not his real life. It’s a character he plays on TV. There’s nothing wrong with a good TV show; it just becomes a problem when we start to think reality operates by the same rules as one.