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Suspension is not enough. He should be banned from the NBA. Until the NBA stops hiring street thugs to "play" basketball, they'll have a problem.

Agreed!

But what do we expect from some thug who has an IQ lower than his PPG average?

And this GENIUS stayed academically eligible to play basketball for St. Johns for two years -- with a math major? Mmm-hmm, sure.

The punk's been coddled his entire life and whoever said this might as well have been talking of Artest . . . "He couldn't spell cat if you spotted him the C and the T." And we wonder why these punks are dysfunctional when they become adults.

The following tale is way, way too long so don't read on if things like this either bore you or make you angry . . . but I think it's important.

I had a relative of mine who was on the staff of my BELOVED Dallas Cowboys (BJJ - Before Jerry Jones) for a lot of years. Yes, he was canned with the Landry regime. Anyway, I was allowed to visit the locker room and the practice field on non-game days, and had an entire run of the training facility during the off-season.

Tom Landry was AND STILL IS one of the most remarkable man I've ever met . . . the second being Roger Staubach. The media always portrayed Coach Landry as being cold and stand-offish but he was never that way with me or ANYONE else I saw him personally interact with. In fact I was a lowly sophomore in high school from a tiny town in West Texas and "sort of" good in sports . . . football and baseball especially.

Coach Landry always went out of his way to talk to me when he saw me either around the Cowboy Complex or waiting for my brother after the games at Texas Stadium. He sent me congratulatory cards after EVERY one of our football games if I was mentioned in the newspaper article, which I usually was. He knew all my statistics, our team record, and even who we needed to beat to advance in the playoffs. He always knew my batting average in baseball. ME! Hell, I was an okay high school athlete . . . but I would've been average in college athletics and there was no way in hell I would ever have a chance in the pros. I'd made all state in baseball my freshman year . . . but it was mainly because there weren't very many high schools of our size that even had baseball teams BUT Coach Landry went out of his way to tell anyone around us that I was THE ONLY freshman to make all state . . . I emphasize "THE ONLY" because that's the way he said it. I think he cottoned to me because he knew I had some "family problems" and there wasn't any . . . uhhh . . . male guidance in my life.

Anyway, sorry that was so long but it was important for you to know that to understand this . . . During the last football game of my sophomore year, with only two minutes to go on the clock, I blew out my left knee -- BIG TIME! Any chance I had for even a college career at a small college was ruined. Walking without a limp would be a major achievement. Like most teens, I thought the world revolved around me and I became withdrawn, angry, and started to rebel even more than I usually had against authority. I was angry and confused about life in general before the injury but things were progressing at even a faster clip now. I didn't get into any major scrapes with the law . . . but I was headed in that direction.

Then . . . Coach Landry stepped in. He called me personally to invite me to a Cowboy game. He'd never done that before. NEVER! I'd only had surgery two weeks earlier and I could barely get around on my crutches, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He even sent me an airplane ticket and had someone from the Cowboys pick me up at the gate. This someone? Just one of the veteran players who wasn't playing much that year, 1971 . . . Dan Reeves. For those of you who don't know, Dan Reeves also had, and still has, problems with his knees.

Dan Reeves and Mike Ditka served as my quasi-hosts until Coach Landry was free enough where he could talk to me. He didn't talk much though, at first, we just circled the practice field. Him with his hands in his pockets, me hobbling on crutches. He's a lot bigger than some folks think. He was a giant to me, even though I was just a little bit taller and far heavier . . . but he was Tom Landry for God's sake!

We stopped at the end of the field . . . looking back at the players as they worked on the weight machines. At that time, the weight equipment was outside and the players did their thing after the regular practice. He didn't seem to miss anything. I noticed several players and coaches glance up at us . . . then hurriedly get back to work when they thought his gaze was on them.

Remember, this is 1971. The Cowboy historians will remember this as the Staubach/Morton and Duane Thomas/Calvin Hill war years. If I remember right, Texas Stadium even opened this year. Coach Landry had a lot on his plate . . . but he made time for some punk high school athlete who thought the world owed him something.

We still didn't talk.

Man, it seemed like he was silent forever . . . but, hell, a punk like me didn't interrupt the Great Tom Landry when he was thinking, right? I thought he was probably mulling over some great offensive plan, some revolutionary scheme that would overwhelm his opponents. He was probably only silent for maybe a minute or so but it seemed like it was a year.

Finally, he said, nodding at my crutches, "You got a tough break, son. What're you going to do about it?"

I shrugged. I was angry about my injury. Hell, the world had dumped on my sports parade and life would never be the same.

He nodded to a player to the left of the crowd of players working out. He never named him but, somehow, you could always tell who Coach Landry was talking about . . . almost as if his gaze was a laser. "There is no way he should be a member of the Dallas Cowboys. He's too small, too slow, and he catches passes like a brick-layer. But, if he was on another team, I'd trade all of our star players to get him on my team. He's too stubborn to know he doesn't belong here. His work ethic is the best I've ever seen. He studies and studies our opponents, then studies them some more until he finds a way he can help our football team."

Who was he talking about? Walt Garrison.

He nods to a black guy standing off by himself . . . the only Cowboy not working with the weights. "He's the most gifted running back we've ever had, he has more God-given talent than anyone in the league today." Then Coach Landry paused, seemingly to weigh his words. "And he'll be successful in the NFL for awhile. But when his short career is over he'll struggle because he doesn't pay attention to the details of life. He's not planning for a life after football. He has no educational background, not really. He thinks this lifestyle will last forever."

Then Coach Landry moved his gaze to another guy, saying, "He on the otherhand has to work his tail off to even get to play. But he's much more prepared for life after football. He goes to college in the off-season. He has several business ventures outside of football and men like him will be successful in anything they do. Most importantly though, his love of family and God will see him through the problems life throws at us."

I was in shock! Coach Landry has basically called my second-most favorite player a bum while predicting his rival would be a success. The players? Duane Thomas and Calvin Hill.

Lastly, after moving his gaze to a skinny guy who was straining to benchpress what appeared to hardly be anything . . . "Roger is the ultimate NFL player."

Roger, of course, would be Roger Staubach. He was one of only three players I ever heard Coach Landry call by their first names. The other two were Dan Reeves and Mike Ditka. But then these two would soon be Cowboy coaches.

Coach Landry waxed poetic about Roger for quite awhile, listing all the reasons why he would be a success . . . work ethic, blah, blah, blah, THEN ended with Roger's love of God and family.

Coach Landry went on . . . "Of the fifty players we can see now, only a handful of them will truly be successful. Athletes are pampered because of their athletic skills, and this will kill them later on in life. They don't have to learn the communication skills necessary to be successful after football. Most had their educations given to them so they're not prepared for life after football. Most think they're indestructible so they think this life will never end."

He kneeled then, and reached out to thump my full-leg cast. Then he looked up to me, his eyes boring into the back of my skull. "This, son," he said, "can be the best thing that's ever happened to you. But that's up to you. I know I've complimented you on your athleticism but your grades, your demeanor, your faith in God, your love of family, and your being a good citizen are far more important than anything you can do in athletics."

He stood and put his hands on my shoulders, staring me squarely in the face. "I've been hearing some disappointing things about you lately. And part of the blame is mine."

WHAT? I thought. How could he be blamed for me getting caught driving while I was drunk? How could he be blamed for me breaking a guy's jaw when he just looked at my girlfriend? How could he be blamed for me ignoring my curfew and staying out all night on school nights? How could he be blamed for me skipping school and not doing my school assignments?

By God, I thought, the world screwed me and I'm sick of it!

I learned later that, before he talked to me on the telephone to invite me up for this trip that he had talked to my mother.

Coach Landry went on . . . "I've failed you as a mentor, son. And I'm sorry. Now you have to help me get you back on track. If you want to become the man I know you can become, then . . ."

He went on to list the things I needed to do . . . get a good education, treat others as I want to be treated, be faithful, etc.

My life changed that day. I never again won any awards in sports. NONE. I never played organized baseball or basketball again. I was changed from the glamour position of Quarterback to fullback because I couldn't make any cuts on my knee.

But I did make The Honor Roll the next six weeks . . . and a congratulatory card from Coach Landry arrived soon thereafter. And one arrived every six weeks for the next 2-1/2 years of my high school career. I made the Honor Roll every time and Coach Landry recognized my achievement every time.

A little side note . . . the Dallas Cowboys won their first Super Bowl that year. A game I witnessed in New Orleans . . . a guest of Coach Landry as a reward for making the Honor Roll.

I still went to Cowboys games and practices after this . . . but Coach Landry and I were never this close again. Why? Because we both knew I didn't need his guidance as much as some others did. I started to notice that Coach Landry took these lonely walks with angry, young men much more often than I'd previously noticed . . . after just about every practice that I witnessed he'd have someone with him at the far end of the practice field and they were casually gazing back at all of us up by the weight machines.

Athletes like Ron Artest obviously didn't have a Tom Landry in their lives. God how I loved that man. I still do.