Lamar Odom and his stern warning

It must have been covert. A rep from the NBA appears in your locker room, asks you to donate a sample. Chills run down your back. You peer into his proxy eyes. They aren't his eyes. They belong to David Stern. He's caught you again.

Stern, the diminutive dictator of NBA policy, paces the floor of his New York offices, smug smile on his face, eyes at half-mast, low as a Buddha's. He prattles about the new media, about international initiatives, about bottom lines. He conjures. He does the calculus of self-interest.

You, conversely, rarely step inside boardrooms. They are foreign to you, except on signing day, and even then they are makeshifts, designed for pomp, for paparazzi. You sign, you exit stage left. You play, and some nights after games you want to relax with friends. One of them brings a packet of weed. Another produces papers. You roll.

If Stern dictates the directions of the league, political correctness dictates the direction of Stern. As CEO, he is about money, the coffers that contain it, and how to procure it, how to ply it from the pockets of willing patrons. And, most patrons would rather not back a league rife with reefer. The social stigma is too great. Stern listens. He knows.

He has the league test you randomly. And others caught in questions of character. And good sense. The first time it happened, you were publicly censored by coaches, executives, the association. Called a bad person. You complied, promised eternal restraint, admitted your foolishness. Bit your tongue.

Now you are shamed again. Deadbeat and dunce. But, pot is the reason you're double-double every night, you might say. It helps me chill post-game. You might defy the deity Stern, fat waddle of wisdom in a cloud-caped skyscraper. But, he will sacrifice you to the good of the league. To the profiteers. The league is an engine now, incorporated. And you're a shill.

It makes no difference that Stern is a substance-abuser no less than you. His substance is power, the pleasures of luxury, the wedge of wealth in his coat pocket. You will learn. If you want to play, you must abide by the absurd. Drink if you want. Abuse the fairer sex. We won't test you for that. But, don't take the demon drug. Don't smoke a joint.

Wake up to our reality, Lamar, Stern smiles wanly. It will be all right. We all love the game. You've just been charmed by the wrong shade of green.