FULL COURT DRESS

Oh, they're back, and they're beautiful. Now that the lockout has been settled, it's on to the real business of professional basketball: looking good It's been this way ever since the 70s, when the circumference of players' Afros was matched only by the sheer happeningness of their postgame mufti, which tended toward screaming-violet jumpsuits, anything made of crushed velvet, and, in at least one case, bootheels filled with live goldfish. Today's players still dress in the Shaft-ian tradition—and those pictured here are the all-star fashion team. Others, including Malik Sealy and Kevin Willis, are actual designers, nourishing an untapped universe of men who have been starved for two-tone spats and burnt-umber fedoras. And, really, who can forget the sight of the Indiana Pacers' Jalen Rose showing up at the 1994 N.B.A. draft in an oversize hot-red suit with thick pinstripes?' Or the Knieks' Chris Childs, in his black-green-and-white checked suit and matching hat? Or the Toronto Raptors' redoubtable Charles Oakley, who wears... actually, there are no words to aptly describe la mode d'Oakley, so please write down your measurements, turn to page 226, and behold.

Reggie Miller

Skinnv? Who you calling skinny? When he joined the sad-sack Indiana Facers, in 1987, word was that the six-foot-seven, 180-pound pretty-hoy would get tossed around like a rag doll. Twelve seasons, more than 17,000 points, and millions of shattered Knicks fans later, "Miller the Killer" is a walking monument to the N.B.A. adage that if you look good, you play good.

Indeed, it seems as if Miller (here in a Banana Republic sweater and Helmut Lang pants) accentuates his gangly arms for effect—specifically, when making the "choke" gesture to his excitable antagonist, Spike Lee. Miller's wife, Marita Stavrou-Miller, doubles as his fashion consultant. Photographed in Culver City, California, July 20, 1998.

Rod Strickland

"Badass" Is not a term used lightly in the N.B.A., where players have been known to hurl coaches into the scorer's table. But, for the last decade, after famously butting heads with coaches on four different teams, Hot Rod has been perhaps the baddcst guard since Philadelphia's World B. Free. F.vcn in a league which has endured a certain cross-dressing forward, no ordinary player could get away with this number, which includes Donna Karan pants and DKNY jacket and. in a reverential nod to the Richard Roundtree era, a hat by Borsalino. Photographed in New York City, September 14, 1998.

Antoine Walker

After his first two professional seasons, Boston still doesn't quite know what to make of young Walker, an immensely talented run-and-gunner who generally flies in the face of the city's tweedy, Sargent Shriver-ish fashion sensibility. The consummate trash-talker, Walker led his team last season in technical fouls and— highly un-Celtic-like—has a tendency to gyrate salaciously after scoring routine baskets. Here Walker wears a Brioni tie and a Yohji Yamamoto scarf, and confirms, once and for all, that 1999 is the Year of the Fedora. Photographed in Chicago, August 7, 1998.

Charles Oak In

See what we mean? Oakley, the lovably sharp-elbowed power forward who spent 10 bruising years with the Knicks, is perhaps the N.B.A.'s most unashamed elotheshorse, having appeared in public wearing a mustard-colored suit, feathered fedora, and matching topcoat. Now that Oakley plays in Toronto, one of the league's coldest cities, it's only sensible that he has outfitted himself like a post-apocalyptic Norseman, thanks to his custom-tailored fur coat and hat by James McQuay. L.ittic-known fact: Oakley gets his hair hand-rolled every two weeks. Photographed in New York City, September 15, 1998.

KOIK' Brvant

When you play alongside Shaquille O'Neal, the 315-pound behemoth who favors bowler hats and six-button suits, you learn the value of understated elegance. During Bryant's two explosive seasons with the Lakers—he went pro straight out of high school—the hyperkinetic 20-year-old guard graduated from droopy jeans and sweatpants to a kind of muted Italian Rat Pack style—he's fluent in Italian, after all—and prefers that his outfits be monochrome. Photographed in Culver City, California, July 20, 1998.

Mitch Richmond

If you'd been where he's been, you'd wear electric orange, too. For seven dreary seasons, the sweet-shooting guard toiled in obscurity for the N.B.A.'s most uncelebrated franchise, the lowly Sacramento kings. Now that lie's playing for the relatively fashionable Washington Wizards— and this may be the first and last time you ever see the words "fashionable'' and "Washington" in the same sentence—Richmond is making up for lost time. Here he goes rude-boy in a sweater by John Bartlett, a coat hv Calvin Klein, pants by Ciuliano Fujiwara. and one hell of a Kangol hat. Photographed in New York City, September 14, 1998.

Juwan Howard

The famously easygoing Washington Wizard buys as mam as 40 custom-made suits each year—in this league, a suit is never worn more than once a week, lest one look like a chump. Players like Howard will drop up to $75,000 a year on handmade outfits, if only because top designers don't make suits for men who stand 81 inches tall and have the wingspans of pterodactyls. Howard, who generally has little tolerance for hats like this one, once said, "I take pride in how I look—but not in a conceited way." Photographed in Chicago, August 7, 1998.