EXCESS LINKS BIAS, BONDS

Less than 48 hours after being picked second overall by the Boston
Celtics in the 1986 NBA draft, Len Bias went on a 3 a.m. cocaine
bender with some buddies.

The cocaine, reportedly piled high on a dorm room table, shut down his heart.

Dead ... just like that.

The two-time ACC Player of the Year at Maryland was a basketball
talent comparable to LeBron James and Dwyane Wade. Duke coach Mike
Krzyzewski repeatedly has called Bias and Michael Jordan the two best
players he's competed against.

Twenty years ago Monday.

Trace your finger along the historical timeline of 1986.

The Chicago Bears, AIDS, Libya, President Reagan, Hulk Hogan,
Halley's Comet, Chernobyl, "Top Gun," Live Aid, Space Shuttle
Challenger, $10 barrels of oil, Al Capone's vault, Mike Tyson,
Beirut, Bill Buckner.

Jose Canseco, American League Rookie of the Year.

Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire break into the major leagues.

One drug era begins to end, while the seeds of another arrive.

Two decades ago, Bias became a sports symbol because of the greatness
drugs prevented him from accomplishing.

He could have become the famous athlete of his age. Instead, he
became an infamous symbol, personifying the cautionary tale of
cocaine excess in the '80s.

Today, we wring our hands over men -- Canseco, McGwire, Bonds -- who
have become infamous symbols of what illegal drugs helped them accomplish.

In the 1980s, athletes mirrored society at large, snarfing
recreational drugs, chasing party-time euphoria amid the bright
lights of the big city.

In the 21st century, athletes created their own subculture of drug
use, ingesting high-tech chemical cocktails that enhanced performance
rather than mood.

It wasn't about fun. It was about records and fame. And money.

Bias -- and Lawrence Taylor and Steve Howe and Chris Washburn --
wanted an edgy way to celebrate themselves. Bonds and company just
wanted an edge.

Is one motivation better than the other?

Some libertarian sorts would insist that recreational drug use is a
matter of personal choice, a victimless crime detrimental only to the
user. Of course, it wrecks families, careers and nourishes the
illegal drug trade, a violent business that is responsible for an
untold number of deaths.

In this world view, steroid use is worse because it damages the game
and a rich and cherished history that is a shared trust.

It's cheating, which is worse than self-destruction.

Others might view taking drugs to perform better -- and get richer --
as quintessential win-at-all-costs American drive. Recreational
drugs, in contrast, are just slovenly escapism. Sort of a Puritan
work ethic . on steroids.

Most folks likely believe both to be despicable. Some couldn't care
less about either.

Ultimately, though, the motivation for using illegal drugs of any
kind is simple: Life will be better if I use this drug, and that
improvement, however temporary, makes it worth risking potential
legal, personal and health problems.

Bias wanted to celebrate. Bonds wants to rule.

The cocaine and steroids eras share one feature: Players denied,
denied, denied ... until they were caught.

In the '80s, numerous rumors circulated about heavy cocaine use
throughout pro sports. The NBA, amid tales of Micheal Ray Richardson
snorting his way through Manhattan, in 1983 became the first pro
league to introduce drug testing, aimed at halting cocaine and heroin use.

Still, the players disingenuously scoffed. In 1984, Keith Hernandez
threatened a lawsuit after Ken Moffett, a former executive director
of the Major League Baseball Players Association, implied Hernandez
used cocaine.

Moffett said he was sorry. Eighteen months later, Hernandez confessed
his cocaine problem during a drug dealer's trial that implicated
numerous major leaguers, calling it "the devil within me."

Denial, denial, busted.

Bias' horrible death became a positive turning point for athletes and
cocaine. The last high-profile stars to grab headlines with cocaine
charges while they were still playing were Michael Irvin in 1996 and
Shawn Kemp and Ken Caminiti, both in 2001.

If recalling Bias' story isn't enough, recent headlines should remind
us of the sad plight of many '80s superstars. Howe, a pitcher
suspended seven times from baseball for cocaine and other problems,
died after he rolled over his pickup truck in April (toxicology
report pending). After being busted again for cocaine use in March,
pitcher Dwight Gooden chose prison over probation to control his temptation.

Caminiti is the tragic transition figure. He confessed to using
steroids during his MVP season in 1996. His struggles with cocaine
ended with his overdose death in 2004.

Bias' death had a significant ripple effect.

Maryland cleaned house in its athletic department, including forcing
out folksy coach Lefty Driesell. The school instituted drug testing
and stricter academic guidelines. The program languished until
recovering its mojo in the mid-'90s.

The Celtics, then the greatest franchise in sports, won their 16th
title shortly before the 1986 draft. They haven't won one since.

"You won't find a more vivid example of a single tragedy altering the
destiny of a sports franchise," wrote Boston Globe columnist Bob Ryan.

Bias' death taught a hard lesson.

The steroid era hangs on more mundane human frailties. Hopefully,
though, its lessons will be no less resonant.