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There could be thousands of academic explanations for poder Latino, yet perhaps none of them might be as accurate as this two-word description: Manu Ginobili. Think of the Argentine basketball star and you'll be quickly receiving a flesh and blood image of many of these metaphysical theories.

His poder Latino has powered, pun intended, his San Antonio Spurs to the upper echelon of the ultra-competitive Western Conference. This season as the Spur's sixth man he's averaged a team best 19.6 points along with 4.5 assists and 4.8 rebounds. Still, while his perennial All-Star team mate Tony Parker is constantly in gossip rags with his actress wife Eva Longoria, Ginobili prefers to stay under the radar.

"In Argentina, I'm seen as an ordinary guy, the typical son of the typical parents, and I think that's exactly what I am," he proudly says.

In many ways, Ginobili is just a mirror of millions of Latinos living in the U.S. True, he is on a $52 million six-year-contract, but that doesn't change it a bit. He came seeking for a better future, leaving friends and relatives behind. The difference is just a bunch of zeros, which, by the way, to Ginobili are worth zero.

"Being Argentine helps me to valorize what's going on to me. Now I can travel in a private airplane or sleep in damn good hotels, but I know what it feels to travel 15 hours on a wasted bus to play a game. I know how you feel when you don't get paid for your job at the end of the month . . . I've experienced all this," he reckons.

The celebrity life is only reserved for the line of duty, but vanishes away from the courts, as Super Manu retreats into a mere Clark Kentian mortal. Ginobili doesn't own collectible cars locked up in a 3,000 square-foot garage nor has lavish tastes to keep his credit card busy, apart from a basic-and definitely cheap-romance with computers. After work, he just can't wait to get home and talk to his friends on IM. His life is equally divided in three subjects: work, family and friends.

"My wife and I are both the domestic type. We could go out to a restaurant, catch a movie at the cinema, but that's it. We don't need to be on the spotlight or in trendy places. Sometimes, I have to, it's inevitable," he underlines, referring to the visit he had to make to meet Argentina's then president, Néstor Kirchner, after winning the gold medal in 2004's Olympics.

Despite flair and charisma helped, the reason of his dramatic transformation into a global star can be found in his bubbling passion. "When I arrived to San Antonio, almost nobody knew me, nor did they know anything about Argentina. That represented a unique motivation," says the man who arrived touted as Europe's best player, only to discover that he was no one in the egocentric NBA world. But his philosophy has always been simple: the more uphill the challenge seems, the more he's up to it.

So when Ginobili was frowned upon his arrival, he stood up and proved he was tough enough to survive. When he remembers his first NBA years, or how his legs trembled when he met Michael Jordan, Ginobili still speaks with the amazement of an ordinary guy living in a dream, rather than the man who conquered three NBA championships with incredible performances in the playoffs. If he conquered the audience, it's also partly because his mix of charm and simplicity.

San Antonio, with its over 60 percent Latino population, is his city in all possible senses. "I like San Antonio so much because it's a quiet, down-to-earth city, in comparison to other places. Here, I can [live] a totally normal life. Going to the supermarket, buying the groceries... Wait, I don't have to tell you this, because it's the excuse I use with my wife not to go!" Let's just hope she isn't reading.