WASHINGTON, D.C.  Senator Arlen Specter accused the Boston Celtics of "cheating like a lazy fifth-grader on a geography test" in winning their seventeenth NBA championship Tuesday night, saying New England Patriots' head coach Bill Belichick filmed the Los Angeles Lakers' shoot-around prior to the decisive game six earlier in the day.

Specter:  "There must be a grassy knoll around the Boston Garden somewhere . . ."

"This sort of dishonesty is contrary to everything America stands for, except for legislators who vote on bills that favor campaign donors," Specter said in a hastily-called news conference.  "To those who claim I'm obsessed with bringing down Coach Belichick, I say you'd feel the same way about someone who is always stealing your yogurt from the refrigerator in the Senator's Lounge." 

Belichick:  "You watch--Kobe's going to shoot now."

Belichick was fined $500,000 in 2007 by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell for taping defensive signals of the New York Jets, a charge that the Patriots' coach did not dispute but which he said was due to a misinterpretation of the rules.  "As I understood it," Belichick said at the time, "I was allowed to take video of [Jets' head coach] Eric Mangini to see who was doing better on our Weight Watchers Diet competition."

Belichick and Mangini:  "Nice to see you, too."

According to Specter, Belichick's tape of the shoot-around enabled the Celtics to anticipate the Lakers' offensive plays in their 131-92 blowout win in Game 6.  "You can see it in their defenders' eyes," Specter said as he rolled three metal balls in his hands.  "They knew the Lakers' 'Give the ball to Kobe' play, their 'Clear out for Kobe play', and their 'Get yelled at by Kobe during a timeout' play."

Jackson and his "Triangle Offense"

Lakers' coach Phil Jackson said pre-game taping would help an opponent understand his complicated "Triangle Offense", which he has used to guide the Lakers and the Chicago Bulls to nine NBA championships.  "There's no way the Celtics could have known that the square of the hypotenuse of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the two other sides," Jackson said bitterly as he boarded a charter plane back to Los Angeles.  "Unless they taped the practice or took high school geometry."

Copyright 2008, Con Chapman

BOSTON.  As the final seconds ticked off the clock at the TDBanknorth Garden last night, Glen "Big Baby" Davis, the Celtics' massive rookie, stood by himself, savoring his team's triumph over the Los Angeles Lakers in the NBA Finals, his mouth wide open as he looked up at the confetti drifting down from the rafters.  "This is great," Davis said, a big smile on his face as stuffed the tiny pieces of paper in his mouth.  "All we get in timeouts is Gatorade, and I was getting hungry."

Davis:  "Hey ice cream man!"

In the locker room a few minutes later, Davis was overcome with emotion as he was handed the Charles W. Barkley Award for the Most Largest Player in the championship series by NBA Commissioner David Stern.  "This is for all my teammates," Davis said as he hoisted the trophy above his head.  "They cleared out on isolations and allowed me to attack the post-game buffet."

"Are you gonna finish that?

David is listed at 289 pounds on the team's roster, but he has recorded weights as high as 345 with the wind at his back since graduating from LSU in 2007.  "Glen is the kind of guy you can build a team around," said Celtics' coach Doc Rivers.  "You could also build a shopping center around him, as long as you had an anchor store like Nordstrom's at the other end of the mall." 

Barkley:  "Glen has a great future ahead of him, and a big butt behind him."

Davis turned in a breakout performance in the NBA Finals, scoring three points in a fourteen-minute appearance that helped clinch the Celtics' first championship in twenty-two years.  "We knew we wanted to close them out tonight in six games," an exhausted Davis told reporter Michele Tafoya, "so I ate game 7."

"Kids, you gotta stop the violence against childhood obesity."

Davis is a fan favorite who gives back to the community through the Glen Davis Fund to Fight Violence Against Childhood Obesity, a cause that is near and dear to him.  "I tell kids, we got to stop all this fighting childhood obesity," he says.  "You need to just chill and learn to live with it, like I did."

Copyright 2008, Con Chapman

LOS ANGELES.  Frustrated by a disappointing game five loss to the Boston Celtics in which his Lakers blew a 24-point lead, superstar Kobe Bryant lit into his teammates today and challenged them to be as unselfish as he is.

"We got to play as a team so I look better!"

"I gave them the same speech I've been giving teammates since third grade CYO basketball," Bryant told reporters after emerging from a closed door meeting in which he reduced teammate Pau Gasol to tears by calling a "Eurotrash cream puff".  "I told them--there may be an 'I' in team, I don't know, but there's no 'I' in Kobe."

Gasol (right):  "I'm sorry I bumped into you."

Bryant is generally considered by himself to be the greatest basketball player of his generation, the equal of past greats such as Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson and Hot Rod Hundley.  He holds the career record among active NBA players for most commercials filmed in Italian (1) and biggest diamond purchased for a wife after allegations of sexual assault on a 19-year old (8 carats, $4 million).

Hot Rod Hundley:  Closed course, professional basketball player.  Do not attempt.

Bryant told teammates that their continued poor play would hit them where it hurts--in the pocketbook--if they didn't turn things around.  "The endorsement deals you all--I mean me--will get if we lose are basically car dealerships, men's clothing store openings and non-franchise pizza places, which are chump change."

Bryant had ten assists in game five, but criticized teammates for missing open shots.  "You guys gotta make those shots," Bryant yelled during one timeout.  "If you don't, I don't get an assist."

LOS ANGELES.  A look at the box score to Tuesday night's game 3 of the NBA finals was as revealing as the clipboard at the end of a hospital patient's bed, according to Dr. Wu Yi Lee, a physician at Massachusetts General Hospital a court-length pass away from the TD Banknorth Garden.  "Big Ticket has Ralph Sampson's Disease," Lee said.  "He need to take it to hole."

The right way

Ralph Sampson was a number one draft pick out of the University of Virginia who was expected to transform the game when he was paired with Hakeem Olajuwon in the Houston Rockets' "Twin Towers" offense.  The 7' 4" inch Sampson opted for mid-range jump shots over low-post moves, however, and never realized his potential, causing college basketball scouts to apply the name "Ralph Sampson's Disease" to a big man's phobia of driving to the basket.

World's Largest Point Guard

Garnett was fouled only twice in Game 3, four times in Game 2 and 6 times in Game 1, causing Celtics trainer Ed Lacerte to call for help from high-powered basketball pathologists at Mass General, a hospital that has treated other NBA greats for ailments such as Iverson's Rock-Retentive Syndrome, colloquially known as "Ball Hog's Disease".

Dr. Lee:  "Take two Dance Team members and call me in the morning."

Garnett's long-term prognosis is good, but he is day-to-day in terms of his ability to overcome the limitations of the disease, says Lee.  "He is one very lucky man," Lee said.  "Medical conditions named after athletes can be fatal, like Lou Gehrig's disease, although Sampson ended up in the Spanish League with Unicaja Ronda, which merely sounds like it could kill you."

Copyright 2008, Con Chapman

BOSTON. Coming off a dramatic win Thursday night in which forward Paul Pierce made a miraculous recovery from a knee injury to lead his team to victory, the Boston Celtics today announced that they have added faith healer Jimmy Ray Embree to their training staff.

Embree: "Jesus--make this small forward walk again so he can come back and drain back-to-back 3 pointers!"

"Miracles can happen, but you don't want to count on them," said Celtics coach Glenn "Doc" Rivers, who is not a licensed physician. "Paul's comeback saved us, just the way a good Bible-thumping televangelist can save you."

"He can walk! Praise the Lord!"

Pierce injured his right knee in a collision with center Kendrick Perkins, and was carried off the court by teammates Tony Allen and Brian Scalabrine and Dr. Brian McKeon, a team physician. "There's nothing I can do for him," McKeon said upon examining Pierce. "We'll have to put him down, like a racehorse."

"God wants you to spread the floor and create isolations for St. Paul!"

But Embree, an itinerant preacher who took a wrong exit leaving Atlanta and ended up at the TD Banknorth Garden when he was pulled into the Ted Williams Tunnel by the gravitational force of Boston's Big Dig, volunteered to minister to Pierce by "laying-on of hands", a faith-healing technique.

"Double-team Bryant--Gasol's no offensive creationist."

Lakers' coach Phil Jackson expressed skepticism over Pierce's injury, calling it a "pants malfunction" and a "broken drawstring" in a post-game interview. "People are comparing him to Willis Reed," Jackson said, referring to Game 7 of the 1970 NBA Finals in which his New York Knick teammate returned to action after a half-time heart transplant and vasectomy. "Compared to Willis, Pierce is a wuss."

Willis Reed, 1970 NBA Finals

But Pierce bristled at the suggestion. "I listen to rap, he listens to the Grateful Dead," Pierce said as he sat in the whirlpool. "You tell me who's a wuss."

Copyright 2008, Con Chapman

AUSTIN, Texas.  New York Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton raised the bar by which her opponent for the Democratic presidential nomination should be judged in a speech to supporters last night, saying Illinois Senator Barack Obama needed to score a "triple double"--a three-state victory by at least ten percentage points--in the four primaries being held today.

Barack Obama, in "Hoop Dreams" phase.

"My opponent likes people to think 'he got game'," the former First Lady said in a speech that drew heavily on street slang she picked up Maine East High School in Park Ridge, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago.  "Let me tell you something--he's gonna get a schoolin', and I ain't foolin'!"

Larry Bird and Magic Johnson.

The term "triple double" is derived from basketball, where it refers to a game in which a player accumulates double-digit totals in any three of these categories--points, rebounds, assists, steals and blocked shots.  It became widely popular during the mid-1980's, when Larry Bird and Magic Johnson would routinely achieve "quadruple doubles", a triple double followed by ten Bud Lights for Bird and ten women for Johnson.

Clinton and Magic Johnson:  "When she sets up in the low post, you can't move her!"

The four states that will hold primaries today are Texas, Ohio, Rhode Island and Vermont.  Clinton and Obama were both campaigning in Texas today, the biggest prize with 193 delegates and a two-day/one-night Family Pack Special at Six Flags Over Texas, an amusement park, at stake.  The candidates engaged in a friendly game of "21" organized by the Democratic National Committee at an elementary school playground here, where an Associated Press reporter picked up a bit of "trash talking" before the candidates threw "rock-paper-scissors" to decide who would get the ball first:

OBAMA:  We had a back porch when I was growing up in Kansas, but it wasn't anywhere near as big as that!

Playground hoops:  "Yo, Hillary--take a chill-pillary."

CLINTON:  Are those your ears, or missile defense radar dishes that are draining money away from America's social ills?

Copyright 2008, Con Chapman

We do so many defensive drills in practice that we do them in our sleep.  Man, I come home putting the press on my woman, denying her the ball.  It's sad, man.

                                               
                    Boston Celtic Kevin Garnett, The Boston Herald

It was 7:28, and I had my game face on.  I put the last glass in the dishwasher, dried my hands with a terry-cloth towel, and headed for the den. 

Kevin Garnett

As I walked in, I saw my wife Sarah "Sally" Christopher, a two-time Volunteer of the Year for the Uphams School PTO, fiddling with a dried flower arrangement on the armoire.  Just like her, I thought, acting blase right up to the moment of tipoff.

"Are you going to be in here or the living room?" she asked as she turned around.  Like I'd tell her where I was going to set up.  "Can't say," I said as I picked up the local paper and nonchalantly flipped through the high school sports section.  The second hand on the Pottery Barn Scottish Terrier clock on the wall ticked up towards twelve.  We looked each other in the eyes, bent at the knees and extended our arms for balance.  Bring it on.

That is just so precious!

As the clock struck 7:30, we lunged for the remote and, after a brief scramble, I emerged with possession.  "Celtics vs. Kings," I said as I pointed and clicked at the big-screen TV.  "You're going to have to go watch 'The Queen' someplace else."

"That's okay, I'd rather spend time with you," she said calmly as she picked up a Martha Stewart Living from the wicker magazine basket at her feet and took a seat on the couch.  I wasn't fooled--I know a zone defense when I see it. 

The Celtics took a 25-17 lead as the first quarter ended, and I decided it was time for dessert.  "I'm going to go get some ice cream," I said as I got up from my chair.  "You want anything?"

"No, I'm fine for now, thanks," she said, not even looking up from a photoessay on homegrown herbs.  She had learned the game in the hardscrabble Presbyterian living rooms of her youth, in a gritty suburban neighborhood where you didn't get to watch H.R. Pufnstuf unless you were quick to the dial, and willing to throw an elbow at your big sister if you had to.

H.R. Pufnstuf: He's your friend when things get rough.

I scooped myself a bowl of Haagen-Dazs strawberry frozen yogurt--I needed to be ready to run if she decided to switch to an uptempo game in the second quarter.  I turned and walked back to the den and saw--Sally with the remote in her hand, clicking for the Lifetime Channel!

Lifetime Disease-of-the-Week Movie:  "I just hope you live 'til the next commercial, sweetie."

"Hey, what gives!" I said with a pouty look that I learned by watching Miami Heat coach Pat Riley. 

"Gimme the remote, dammit!"

"You snooze, you lose," she said as she watched a mother lovingly stroke her daughter's forehead.

I flopped down in my chair as if I'd just been pulled from a game for a missed slam dunk.  "What's the Disease-of-the-Week?" I asked, knowing that someone would get sick and die before I'd see another transition basket.

"They don't know yet," Sally replied.  "They think it might be Osgood-Schlatter's Disease."

Osgood-Schlatter's Disease

"What a crackpot diagnosis that is!" I said with a snort.  "Everybody knows Osgood-Schlatter's primarily affects adolescent boys . . ."

"Primarily," she said without taking her eyes from the screen.

I decided to slow things down and work the shot clock.  It is virtually impossible for a woman to watch the Lifetime Channel for more than ten minutes without breaking into tears.  Sure enough, just as they wheeled the girl into the operating room for emergency surgery, Sally began to sniffle. 

"I'm going to go get a tissue," she said as a touching commercial for instant cinnamon-flavored cappucino (yuk) came on.

"You getting a cold?" I asked solicitously, if sarcastically.

"Keep up the trash-talk and you can sleep on the couch," she said.

As soon as she was out of the room I set up on the block in front of the cable box and switched back to the game--45-44 Kings, halftime.  The Boston Celtics dance team--who go by the name 'The Boston Celtics Dance Team'--took their places on the historic parquet floor of the TD Banknorth Garden to shake some obligatory male-fan-base-pleasing booty.

Red Auerbach is spinning in his grave.

"Oh for the love of God!" Sally exclaimed when she returned as she saw the rock-hard abs that are standard equipment on the underemployed aerobics instructors who succeed in the fiercely-competitive world of NBA fleshpot entertainment.

"I thought you liked dance," I said with an innocent look on my face.  "Sure, they're not the Boston Ballet, but then who is?"

Co-Defensive Players of the Game

Sally plopped down on the couch as Rocco and Oakie, our two cats, came into the room, looking for a warm lap to sit in for the rest of the night.  I don't like to brag, but they do favor me--maybe because I'm such a sensitive guy.

Sure enough, they both hopped up in my chair and settled down after doing that circling thing that cats do to find the best spot.  Rocco took the high lap up by my waist where he could get his chin scratched, while Oakie took the low post on my ankles, which were resting on a footstool.

"They sure love you, don't they," my wife purred with a chocolate-eating grin after our little tableau vivant was set.

"What's not to like?" I asked rhetorically.

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a thoughtful look on her face.  "Maybe the way you hog this!"

As she spoke she stole the remote from my hand.  I was stuck--I couldn't fight my way through the double-team.  "Illegal defense!" I yelled.

Deviated septum:  Before, and after.

"You're not going to get that call in a close one," she replied coldly.  "The refs aren't going to win the game for you."

Sally switched back to Lifetime, where the ailing daughter was seen walking out of the hospital and throwing away her crutches.  "Mom!" she cried.  "I'm fine--it was just a deviated septum!"

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" the mother exclaimed.  "Now we can go shopping for scented candles and potpourri again."

"Okay, it's over," I said.  "Can we switch back to the game now?"

"Let's see what's on the House and Garden Channel."

Copryight 2007, Con Chapman

SEATTLE, Washington.  As SuperSonics season ticket holder Mort Ruderman stood in the checkout line at a Whole Foods Market on northeast 64th Street here the other day, he could only shake his head.  "Kemp Fathers UFO Love Child" screamed the headline on a tabloid newspaper, next to a picture of a humanoid mother holding a bawling infant.

Shawn Kemp, airborne.

"The Reignman never could stay out of trouble,"  Ruderman said with a rueful little smile as he opted for paper over plastic.

Former Sonics' forward Shawn Kemp is the all-time NBA career leader in illegitimate offspring, having fathered seven children by six women.  Larry Johnson fathered five children by four women, Charles Barkley--in his typically contrarian fashion--fathered three by five women, and Dennis Rodman fathered two and mothered three. 

Kobe Bryant was well on his way towards establishing the "double-double"--ten children by ten different women--before his philandering career was cut short by allegations of rape in Colorado.

The real father?  You be the judge.

Kemp, who retired after spending the 2002-03 season with the Orlando Magic, called the paternity claim a "shake-down" at a news conference here.  "That woman's from the NGC 4414 spiral galaxy.  We never even played an exhibition there," Kemp said.  "From the looks of the kid," he added, "she oughta be going after Sam Cassell."

Dr. Wendy Feldman of the Observatories of the Carnegie Institution supported Kemp's denial.  "To the extent that we can ever get the Hubble Telescope to work, we have generally not seen any life forms resembling power forwards in that galaxy," she said by telephone from Washington, D.C.  "A few off-guards and small forwards, yes, but nothing bigger."

Illegitimate Kidz Fun Zone!

The NBA's illegitimate children scandal was exposed by a 1998 Sports Illustrated article, and the league responded by creating a special exhibit at the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass., to explore the delicate subject.  The Illegitimate Kidz Fun Zone! is located next to an interactive display on the history of the 24-second shot clock. 

Dan Dickau

Dan Dickau, the baby-faced guard for the Los Angeles Clippers, expressed surprise when told of the league's continuing crisis of players who abandon their children.   "We're allowed to date fans?" he asked.  "Cool!"

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

NEW YORK. Charles Philip Arthur George Mountbatten-Windsor, better known as "Prince" Charles, left tongues wagging among pro basketball scouts after a private work-out in Harlem today.

Parker Bowles:  "Now dribble with your weak hand to show them you can go to your left."

"He's Heir Apparent to the British throne," said Danny Ainge, Executive Director of Basketball Operations for the Boston Celtics, "but he's also heir apparent to a long-line of flat-footed white players such as Hank Finkel, Greg Kite, Eric Fernsten and so many more." The Celtics, who are headed towards one of their worst seasons in franchise history, will almost certainly have one of the first picks in the college draft next summer, and are believed to have their eyes on Charles, who hit one of two open shots he took at the Children's Zone here.

"You mean Charles Philip Arthur George Mountbatten-Windsor counts as four picks?"

"He plays taller than he is, because he's got such an incredible vertical leap--zero on our radar gun," Ainge said. "His first shot was an air ball, but he made his second. My Hewlett-Packard Programmable Calculator tells me that's a 50% shooting average, and you can't argue with statistics."

"I've got a foul on number 11, blocking a Prince en route to a Royal Lay-Up."

Charles was defended by ten middle-school students who could not overcome his height advantage. "He pump-faked me up, and all I could do was grab his belt on the way down to break my fall," said sixth-grader Tiffany Pratt.

Artest:  Not that kind of King.

Charles, whose titles include Prince of Wales, Prince of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay and Burberry Rookie Traffic-Cone Dribbling Champion, was accompanied by Camilla Parker Bowles, his long-time paramour and more recently his agent in negotiation with teams who may want to draft the scion of the House of Windsor who is projected as a shooting guard. "My guy's gonna get paid what's he worth, or he'll play in Italy next year," the tough-talking Bowles said. "It's not every year someone enters the draft who's descended from Kings, and I'm not talking about Ron Artest."

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

NEW YORK.  An altercation between Los Angeles Lakers' center Kwame Brown and a man outside a night club last week has NBA officials worried that birthday-related violence may set back efforts to make the league more customer-friendly by reducing the frequency of player-on-fan attacks.

Turiaf:  "He said it's his birthday--well it's my birthday too, yeah."

"Ever since the Pistons-Pacers fight, we've been on our guard," said commissioner David Stern.  "It's a National Guard, however, so it only meets once a month."

Stern:  "A chocolate cake?  Sounds like fun!"

The incident occurred at a Hermosa Beach nightclub following the Lakers win over the Orlando Magic on January 12th, when members of the team were celebrating small forward Ronny Turiaf's birthday.  Alexander Martinez, a 5' 9" man who was celebrating his 30th birthday with his wife and friends, emerged from the club at around 2 a.m. holding a $190 chocolate cake.  Brown grabbed the cake and threw it, hitting Martinez in the back.

Jackson:  "Kwame, hit the guard with an outlet pass, not a chocolate cake!"

"That is not something I want Kwame doing," Lakers' coach Phil Jackson said at a press conference the next morning.  "Just give the cake to a guard and let him bring it up the floor."

"This is gonna kill your turnover-to-assist ratio."

Brown said that he meant to hit Turiaf, who had been watching the Martinez party throughout the evening with a mixture of sadness and envy.  "Ronny grew up in France, where they give you these little bitty birthday cakes that look like a croissant or a brioche.  He kept repeating the line from the Beatles' song--'They say it's your birthday, well it's my birthday too, yeah.'  I told him he's a Laker now, and Lakers have big honking birthday cakes."

Artest:  Just wants in on the fun.

NBA officials say they will add extra security for Sacramento Kings' home games for the foreseeable future as small forward Ron Artest has recently grumbled about goodie bags given to children who attend birthday parties at the "Kings Kids Klub" before games.  "Those kids get Airheads, Silly Suckers and Pistol Pete Maravich Pez dispensers.  I've been good--I haven't gone into the stands for a long time.  How come I don't get one?"

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Sometimes, it takes a tragedy to change the way we view the world.  For me, it was the story of David Sharp.

Sharp was a climber in distress who died 300 feet from the summit of Mt. Everest.  A number of parties, including that of double-amputee Mark Inglis, passed him by, oblivious to his plight as they sought the small beer glory that comes to those who scale the world's highest mountain long after the feat has become commonplace.

When I learned of Sharp's death, I could only sigh in disgust at my fellow man (and the overwhelming majority of the world's premier climbers are men). 

And then it struck me--this never would have happened if the many highly-competitive egotists who passed Sharp by had only stopped to partake in the camaraderie of karaoke as they made their way up and down the mountain.

Since it was first developed in the 1970's, karaoke has become a staple of after-work get-togethers around the world.  The term is derived from two Japanese words, kara and okestura, and can roughly be translated as "bad singing". 

Karaoke first became popular among Japanese "salary men", who are expected to go out after long work days and socialize into the night.  Their bosses hope that bonding through singing will improve team spirit, leading to greater corporate profits.  Simply put, it is impossible not to feel a sense of common purpose with someone who has heard you sing Donna Summer's "I Will Survive" after you've had too much to drink.

My goal:  To bring the bonhomie that karaoke engenders to the mountain known to sherpas, the Nepalese natives who guide foreigners to its peak, as "Chomolungma" or "Graveyard of Lousy Tippers".

My sherpa's name is Pemba Dorjie, and he recommends the VocoPro Karaoke King, a 7 Watt, 120 volt beauty with a Signal-to-Noise Ratio of 65 db and Wow and Flutter of 0.35% WRMS (whatever that means).  "This bad boy has two microphone inputs with individual volume controls," Pemba notes in his native Tibetan tongue.  "Duets can thus be performed with ease," he points out, "cranking the fun up another notch."

We choose the southwest ridge for our ascent, and make base camp at 17,600 feet above sea level.  Pemba asks if he can be the first to try out the VocoPro, and I gladly agree.  I know him to be a big Barry Manilow fan and--wouldn't you know it--his first selection is "Copacabana", the 1978 disco hit that combined Latin rhythm and Borscht Belt nightclub shtick to produce what Rolling Stone magazine called the worst song of the decade.

Pemba's voice is strong and soulful as it echoes across the mountain face, triggering an avalanche that wipes out a party of five below us who were trying to become the first set of quintuplets of Lithuanian descent to reach the summit.  "Tough luck," says Pemba.  "Avalanches are the leading cause of death here."

After a few weeks to acclimatize ourselves to the altitude, we move up the Western Cwm to the base of the Lhotse face.  Before we turn in for the night, we stare into our campfire and think the thoughts that come to men as they reach into the heavens.

"Pemba," I say.  "This Cwm--why does it have no vowel?"

Pemba is uneasy at first.  "We are a poor nation," he says after a while.  "We cannot afford all the vowels that you rich Americans toss around so freely."  I nod my head in sympathy, then show him how a "y" is the Swiss Army knife of the alphabet and can be used as either a consonant or a vowel!

"Thanks," Pemba says with a smile.  "This will bring many hours of happiness to my children."

Over the next two days we pass through the South Col, the Geneva Spur and the Yellow Band.  At 26,000 feet, we hit the "Death Zone", so named because it is estimated that over 100 corpses of climbers who died without realizing their goal can be found there.

I begin to have trouble breathing, and Pemba urges caution.  "Here," he says as he hands me an aerosol canister of Cheez Whiz, the processed cheese spread.  "Stick this up a nostril and squirt."  I do as he instructs me, and after an initial blast of the orange, viscous liquid hits my soft palate, my nostrils clear from the gases that propel this delicious treat onto corn chips, hot dogs and cheesesteaks across America.  "Wow," I say as the flurocarbons jolt me into a heightened state of consciousness.  "What a rush!  Hope it doesn't poke a hole in the ozone layer."

"You some kind of tree hugger?"  Pemba asks scornfully.  "Nature is your enemy, man."  And indeed, my concerns about global warming evaporate in the -100 degree Fahrenheit cold.

"That should last you a few hours," Pemba says.  "Just enough time to get set up."

We hurry to hook a solar-powered generator up to the karaoke machine, then wait for teams of climbers to pass by.  We notice one straggler, apparently confused from lack of oxygen to the brain, making his way up the slope.  "Excuse me," he shouts out as he draws nearer.  "I'm looking for the Northeast Bancshares Summer Outing."

Pemba and I exchange looks of concern.  The man has been separated from his party, and is unlikely to survive a night alone.  "You like Kool and the Gang?" Pemba asks tentatively.

"Who doesn't?" the man replies, and before you can say "Jungle Boogie", our new friend is laying down a loose groove of funky stuff to "Celebration".

"Cel-e-brate good times--c'mon on!" he sings, not too well, but with more than enough gusto. The words ring out across the Kangshung Face and--out of nowhere--who should appear but Beth Lindsay, Director of Human Resources for the fourth-largest bank holding company in America.

"Ed Ferguson--we need you over on the northeast ridge for volleyball," she says with concern as she checks her clipboard.  "You two don't mind if I steal Ed for awhile, do you?" she asks Pemba and I.  "Karaoke doesn't start until after dinner tonight."

"Not a problem," I reply with more than a little satisfaction at a mission accomplished.  Pemba puts Ed's microphone back into the VocoPro's hard shell protective case, and we head back down the mountain.

"Pemba," I say, "Have I ever told you who my favorite teams are?"

"No," he says with indifference, but I continue.

"In baseball, for the National League it is the St. Louis Cardinals.  For the American League, it is the Boston Red Sox, although I lived on the South Side of Chicago for four years, and so am also partial to the White Sox."

"Go on," he says.  "How about football?"

"In the NFL, the New England Patriots.  I grew up a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals, but since they moved to Arizona, I don't care about them."

"And college?"

"The Tigers of Missouri, and the Eagles of Boston College."

"How about the NBA?"

"I grew up a St. Louis Hawks fan.  You know why they are important, do you not?"

"Sure.  The only team other than the Lakers to beat the Celtics in an NBA finals."

"That is correct," I say, passing him a baggie full of trail mix.  "With the onset of the Jo Jo White era, I became a Celtics fan."

"Just in time for the triple overtime game against Phoenix, right chief?"

"That is correct.  Jo Jo was from St. Louis, but he chose to play college ball at Kansas, the archrival of the University of Missouri."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Pemba asks me after a while.

"I am posting this to FoxSports.com, and there is no 'tag' for mountain climbing."

"Ah--I see," he says with the inscrutable wisdom of the Orient.  "You blog for the glory of it."

"I suppose," I reply with a sheepish grin, now that he has uncovered my vanity.

As we pass the body of a climber who died when he fell forty feet from a ledge above us, Pemba again turns philosophical.  "You know," he says,  "music can really bring people together."

Copyright 2006, Con Chapman

BIRMINGHAM, Alabama.  Charles Barkley's revelation that he's lost $10 million gambling over the years has led to an outpouring of support in his hometown, where locals point to the good he's done for numerous charities.

"He's one of our biggest supporters," says Children's Hospital CEO Mack Doolin, M.D.  "We're going to stick with him until he licks this thing.  He just needs to learn how to set limits," says Doolin, who has counseled others with addictions.

And so Doolin is at Barkley's side as he enters Leeds Elementary School to participate in "Spring Fling", a fund-raiser for its PTO.  "It's a baby step," says Barkley, "but I've got to start out small."

Barkley draws a crowd of excited fans as he steps up to the Wheel O' Fun, where fifty cents entitles a player to a spin for a toy or stuffed animal.  "Fifty thousand on the red," Barkley says before Doolin can intervene.  "One ticket at a time, Charles," he says, and the man known as "The Round Mound of Rebound" during his playing days with the Sixers, Suns and Rockets agrees. 

 "Okay," Barkley says sheepishly, before laying down two quarters and winning a noisemaker that makes an annoying "clackety-clack" sound.  "I'm gonna shake this sucker in Trey Wingo's face next time he asks me an embarassing question on SportsCenter," Barkley says with a mischievous grin.

He moves on to the Action Figure Fishin' Hole, where children drop a pole behind a bed sheet and the school's fourth grade class officers attach a plastic superhero to the hook.  "I want one of them Ninja Turtles," Barkley says.  Behind the sheet, Nancy Rouchka, class president, giggles as she picks Kimberly, the Pink Power Ranger, from a cardboard box and puts it on the line.  When Barkley sees his girlish prize he explodes at Rouchka, causing Assistant Principal Morris Byrum to come running across the cafeteria.

"What's going on here?" Byrum asks in an excited tone as the class president sobs loudly.  "What kinda clip joint are you running here?" Barkley yells at the hapless administrator, before picking him up and tossing him onto the conveyor belt that takes dirty plates back to the dishwasher.

Barkley moves on to the Pez Dispenser Ring Toss,  where he decides to try for the Popeye model.  "I like that dude 'cause he's like me--I am what I am."  Barkley plunks down ten dollars for twenty rings, but he soon needs to buy more as he collects Batman, Spiderman and Snoopy--but no Popeye.

A half hour later Barkely is down $50 when Doolin intervenes.  "C'mon, Charles--just walk away--okay?" he says as he takes a roll of quarters from the former Dream Team member and leads him out of the building.

Even though he always said he wasn't a role model, the kids are sad to see him go.  "I wanna be as good as him when I grow up," says third-grader Tyrone Williams.  "Not everybody makes it to the NBA," his dad cautions him.

"Not at basketball," Tyrone says.  "Texas Hold 'Em!"

Copyright 2006, Con Chapman

SACRAMENTO, California.  Kings' forward Shareef Abdur-Rahim returned to action Thursday night against the Los Angeles Lakers with his jaw wired shut, and team officials say they will follow his situation closely to ensure that he is not endangering himself by playing.

Abdur-Rahim broke his jaw less than a month ago in a collision with Portland's Zach Randolph, and his Sacramento teammates praised him for his gutsy return to action.  "Lot of guys with a name like his would have declared jihad on the whole Trailblazers' team," said Kings' guard Mike Bibby.  "I think he deserves some credit for keeping his cool."

Abdur-Rahim said he was only doing his job and that he owed it to his teammates to get back into action.  "Glz uzfez muz szufzz rzz awuzyz," he said with a smile as big as he could manage under the circumstances.

Basketball commentator Charles Barkley said jaw-wiring could have helped him keep his weight down during his career with the Sixers and the Suns, and to avoid costly lawsuits as well.  "Some guy comes up to you in a restaurant and calls you 'Round Mound of Rebound' or 'Pizza King', it's only natural you throw him through a plate-glass window, right?"

NBA officials say they will monitor Abdur-Rahim's progress to see if the jaw-wiring procedure should be used more widely.  "It is something we are looking into," said league spokesman Thomas Cranwell.  "If we can prevent just one Ron Artest rap CD, it will be worth it."

Copyright 2006, Con Chapman