Michael Ventre

There are approximately 1.3 billion people in China, and almost none of them think Yao Ming is a bust. Yes, they are a bit biased. And while it’s true that a booming economy has loosened the sinister death grip that Communism once had on its people, allowing for more communication with the West and a bit more freedom of expression, the fact is that even if citizens there could take a few digs publicly at the Houston Rockets’ center, they probably wouldn’t. Even the most ardent anti-government activist would probably concede that the 7-foot-5 pride of that mighty nation can play a little.

But here in the U.S., the reaction seems to be slightly less favorable. There’s little debate that he can score and rebound, and that the dire predictions that the former No. 1 overall draft pick in 2002 was destined to become the highest-paid dork in history were largely unfounded.

Yet he has also not blossomed into a dominant force. He doesn’t change the game when he’s on the floor. He doesn’t strike fear into the hearts of opponents. He’s simply a prime example of isolationist basketball: A player large enough to score 24 points and grab eight rebounds a night, but who doesn’t have the ability or the drive to power his team to a championship.

Now that could change. Perceptions die hard, but occasionally they do meet their ultimate demise. Yao does have all the physical gifts to become the next Shaquille O’Neal. With maturity and experience, he could develop the confidence necessary to destroy all resistance. He could become a veritable Gang of Four condensed into one fearless leader.

He could also use some help.

The Rockets are part of the problem in the establishment of the Yao dynasty. They just haven’t surrounded him with the kind of team that could challenge the powers in the West. The Western Conference, that is.

First he was saddled with Steve Francis, a flashy and erratic guard whose court vision doesn’t extend beyond himself. With Francis as the focal point, the Rockets offered Yao little in the way of on-floor leadership. Moreover, Francis was often a distraction on and off the court. There was never a belief during Yao’s first two years in the NBA that the Rockets could be anything more than first-round chum.

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Indeed, the Rockets failed to even make the playoffs in Yao’s first season of 2002-03, and they were eliminated by the Lakers, 4-1, in the opening round of the 2003-04 postseason. By contrast, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar led the Milwaukee Bucks to the conference finals in his rookie year — and the Bucks had only become a franchise for the 1968-69 season — and to a championship in his second year. The Shaq-less Orlando Magic finished in last place in the Atlantic Division in 1991-92; by 1994-95, with O’Neal in the fold, the Magic advanced to the NBA Finals.

Yao has been to the playoffs twice in four NBA seasons. Both times his Rockets were bounced in the first round.

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And remember, this wasn’t a 17-year-old kid coming out of high school into a man’s league. This wasn’t Andrew Bynum, being thrust into a preposterously high profile situation as a first-round draft pick with the Lakers. Yao is 26. He was a mature 22 when he arrived in Houston, a veteran of five years with the Shanghai entry of the Chinese League and a member of his country’s Olympic team in 2000. He was prepared.

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