The statue.

Having his career bronzed and erected on a plaza at the Delta Center is the kind of honor, far beyond the All-Star recognitions, the MVP awards, the Finals runs, the fame, the money, the adulation of fans, the retirement of a jersey, that speaks to Malone.

It plays to the boyish imagination of a remarkably sensitive and insecure man who once was awed by those he saw similarly honored: generals, heads of state, founders of cities and nations, heroes. The sheer permanence of it validates an endeavor, in his mind, somehow never quite validated enough.

Until now.

Unlike a more common jersey, crowded into a space in the rafters with six other Jazz notables, most of them nowhere near his equal, this sculpture is a tribute Karl can see and touch, everybody can see and touch, for now and forever. Right on the city block where he piled up his accomplishments, where he made his name. Fifteen feet of the power forward doing what he did - taking a pass from a respected teammate, though John Stockton's image for some reason is only half as big, and scoring the ball.

The larger question might be: Why memorialize a man because he could drop a ball through a hoop?

For my money, statues should be reserved for champions of greater causes than winning the old Midwest Division.

George Washington, I get. He saved a revolution, founded a country, and beat the British.

Abraham Lincoln, I get. He saved the union, fought for justice and freedom, and beat slavery.

Dwight D. Eisenhower, I get. He saved the free world, led the Allied troops, and beat the Nazis.

Malone, I don't get so much. He scored 36,928 points, grabbed 14,968 rebounds, and lost to the Chicago Bulls.

I don't want to be a spoilsport here, a pigeon pooping on the newly honored's rocked-up likeness. I did that when Stockton's statue was unveiled. But when men play games, when they do deeds only greater than what Joe and Jill Sixpack do because they are paid more money and get more media attention, then their immortalization is tarnished, their lasting image is made into an overzealous caricature.

Just because the Greeks made demigods out of their Olympians does not justify it now.

Still, Karl was a beast in the low post, a decent shooter from the perimeter, a tenacious rebounder, a strong defender, a durable plow horse of a player whose jersey should not only hang in the Delta Center, but also in the Hall of Fame.

Both are worth commemorating and celebrating.

It is true that Malone had a tendency, at times, to periodically disappear in clutch moments in big games, but we won't linger long on that here, although not winning a championship is a part of his legacy. He and Stockton are heralded by some as the greatest ever to play their positions, and, if that were true, it would be even more astounding that, together, they could not win the biggest prize.

Apologists say that fruitlessness was because the best player of all time stood in their way, ignoring the fact that the Jazz had other chances to win it all, when Michael Jordan was playing baseball, and, still, Stockton and Malone could not beat the Rockets and the Sonics.

But they did win a lot of games. And they came close a lot. And they played bits of pristine basketball. Some say their proficiency saved the franchise, too, keeping it in Utah.

Either way, all of those regular-season wins look pretty impressive now, peering back from a current perspective perched - or mired - at sub-.500 ball.

The Jazz's victories during Malone's 18 years in Utah can be traced more to him than any other player, including Stockton. He was the one who carried the heaviest burden, the greater responsibility, and he made that load harder to haul, on account of his public pronouncements. They were sometimes goofy, sometimes self-absorbed, sometimes accurate, sometimes ridiculous.

Malone will never be revered in the same way Stockton was, only because he never hid behind a silent cloak. He popped off. He expressed whatever it was that was banging around inside his head, no matter how sensible or how foolish.

Stockton never said he would never again play in Utah, and, then, came back and played again. Karl just did a lot of 360s and was "misconscrewed" a lot.

However, he should not have been vilified by a portion of Jazz fans for leaving Utah for his last season in the NBA to play for a title with the Lakers. The Jazz didn't really want him, and he still had a bit of fire to extinguish. There was nothing wrong with what he did, although there was plenty of irony in the way it turned out.

What a cruel twist that a player who almost never got injured, who was more durable than any other NBA player ever, who played through pain when he was hurt, didn't get his championship, in large measure, because of a blown knee that not only cost him much of that last season, not only ended his chances at a title, but also ended his career.

He walked away from basketball a rich and famous man, but with his empty arms extended, once more.

When Malone retired, he uttered these curious words: "I don't want to be famous anymore."

Maybe. Maybe not.

But he does want to be forever remembered and forever validated. Fifteen feet of bronze on the southeast plaza ensures that now. Fifteen feet of what people can see and touch validates a basketball player's existence more than enough.

Even for Karl Malone.

Gordon Monson can be reached at gmonson@sltrib.com. To write a letter about this or any sports topic, send an e-mail to sportseditor@sltrib.com.

By the numbers

2 Malone ranks second in shots attempted with 26,210 (Kareem Abdul-Jabaar, 28,307) and shots made with 13,528 (Abdul-Jabaar 15,837)

543 Career-high consecutive games played, from December 18, 1991 to April 8, 1998. It ended only because of a league suspension

11 His NBA-record consecutive seasons with 2,000 or more points. Malone also holds the mark for most total seasons with 2,000-plus points (12).