PHILADELPHIA (AP) -- Allen Iverson seems to have accepted that no matter what he does on the court, he'll never achieve the endorsement success of Michael Jordan. Corporate America fears him the way a lone defender on the wing does.

The Philadelphia 76ers controversial star has only one endorsement deal, with Reebok, even though his jersey is one of the top-five sellers in the country. The Sixers are trying to change that, but it's a tough sell.

On Friday night, the Sixers will undertake the latest attempt to sell Iverson, who leads the NBA in scoring but trails mightily in the race for endorsements. The Sixers brain trust came up with the idea of a beanbag doll modeled after their star player -- complete with cornrows, a goatee and tattoos.

Iverson hopes the promotion, which is responsible for the Sixers' third sellout of the season, doesn't just turn into another missed opportunity or ill-perceived reach for acceptance.

``I'm just trying to be me, man,'' Iverson said. ``If people are going to market me, I don't want it to be anything phony. If they're going to market me, I want it to be the way I am.''

Not exactly music to the ears of Madison Avenue.

It's no secret that Iverson's rocky past and his public image work against him. Few in the corporate world have walked the streets Iverson has.

He's been arrested on marijuana and gun charges, spent four months in jail for his role in a bowling alley brawl, been implicated by friends who were pulled over while driving away from an alleged drug dealing in his Mercedes.

He has seen death up close, in the tragic, senseless way that it happens in America's blighted outposts. He once had eight friends killed in one summer. His father is serving nine years in prison for assault, and a surrogate father figure, Tony Clark, also was killed.

In Iverson's mind, he has coped in the most admirable way possible -- by refusing to abandon the people and places who made him who he is. Thus, the braided hair, jewelry and tattoos that decorate his sinewy arms, the most prominent one proclaiming, ``Only the strong survive.''

``Madison Avenue isn't ready for cornrows,'' said Rick Burton, director of the Warsaw Sports Marketing Center at the University of Oregon. ``That's racist, but that's the way Madison Avenue tends to be, because they have to sell to a broader audience.

``They don't understand cornrows or African American history or culture. It's hard for them be able to appreciate a young man like Iverson, who is so driven and so focused.''

This is part of the dilemma facing the Sixers, who have on their watch an incredible basketball talent perceived as a ticking time bomb. Dave Coskey, the team's vice president for public relations, recalls working with a similar lightning rod for controversy in his early days with the Sixers.

Fellow named Charles Barkley.

``He was incorrigible. He was outrageous. He was outspoken,'' Coskey said. ``The older basketball writers used to say, `He's nothing like the guys we're used to covering.' Now fast-forward. Charles is the elder statesman in the NBA. A lot of analogies can be drawn.''

More so than with Barkley, the Sixers are torn when trying to market Iverson. On one hand, they see a young man up close whose allure to children defies his public image. Earlier this season, after a Sixers loss, Coskey stood in awe while Iverson taped a segment that was to be shown to a child dying of AIDS and brain cancer in Atlanta.

Then, they stand by helplessly while Iverson curses his coach, Larry Brown, and causes a weeklong controversy that threatens to derail the team's bid for a first playoff berth since 1991.

The contradictions hurt Iverson's chances for endorsements, but maybe it's too early to write him off as a marketing failure.

Iverson hopes the doll is a start. The toy, named ``Alien Iverson,'' will be given away to the first 5,000 kids in the building for Friday night's game against Indiana. And surprise, it managed to attract a sponsor -- Rold Gold pretzels.

Burton has studied athletes who overcame negative images to gain appeal as pitchmen. He was involved in Miller Lite's famous ``Less Filling, Tastes Great'' commercials that showed tough, seemingly aloof jocks in a humorous light. He believes the same approach may someday work for Iverson.

``When show you can laugh, you can break a lot of people's defenses down,'' said Burton, hitting on Iverson's favorite pastime on the court. ``Let's laugh at some of what Larry Brown and the media represent. Let's laugh at ourselves.''

Iverson recently fired agent David Falk, saying he wants his replacement to be more aggressive in pursuing endorsements. But he remains steadfast in his position that he won't change.

``If I want to see myself on TV, I can just turn on ESPN every night,'' Iverson said. ``I'm not big on having a bunch of commercials and all that. That's not what it's all about.

``Sometimes I feel like it isn't fair, but I don't ever cry about it. It's not fun all the time, because I'm not the person that they try to make me out to be.''