BIAS' DEATH SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT LESSON

Monday marked 20 years since University of Maryland basketball star
Len Bias died of a cocaine overdose.

If you're of a certain age and lived in the Washington, D.C., area in
1986, the death rocked you. How could Len Bias, the 22-year-old
anticipated savior of the Boston Celtics, with everything to live for, be dead?

The story needs to be retold.

"These players now are a different generation," said Charles Barkley,
who would have been Bias' NBA contemporary. "They don't know stuff
that happened last week."

Around the time of Bias' death, as Barkley's own brother struggled
with drug use, Barkley considered trying cocaine. He wanted to
understand the fascination. Bias' death "scared me from going
anywhere near it," Barkley said.

We don't know if Bias was a one-time drug user, or had used multiple
times, as some teammates later claimed. Former Maryland coach Lefty
Driesell's pre-draft words remain eerie: "Leonard's only vice is ice cream."

Bias put a face on cocaine. Congress passed the Anti-Drug Abuse Act
of 1986, and stiffer sentences were enacted for those convicted of
trafficking in drugs.

Professional teams conducted more thorough background checks, and the
NCAA started random drug testing.

Twenty years later, you can't help but wonder.

Would the Celtics have stayed a dynasty? Bias could have eased the
workload for aging stars Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale.

Would Bias have become Michael Jordan's personal rival he always
lacked? Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski has always said Jordan and Bias
are the two players who really stand out in all his years.

Mostly, I wonder this: How many lives did Bias' death save? How many
people, like Barkley, were discouraged to even try drugs? And how
long does that impact last?

I was 9 years old growing up in Maryland when Bias died. I learned
about his death watching the news scroll below a "Family Ties"
re-run. Some buddies and I started a club, Friends Against Drugs, and
I like to think it helped someone.

But time passes. LeBron James is the new "next" Michael Jordan (never
mind that Bias was really the "first" LeBron. And drugs change, too.

I worry the Bias story is wearing off, not just in basketball,
because drugs are like any other market.

"In the black community, we have got to do a better job with policing
our community and let the drug dealers know they're not welcome,"
Barkley said. "Police don't care about poor neighborhoods, whether
they're white, black or Hispanic.

"America discriminates against poor people. You can't deal drugs in
Mountain Brook. They'll get your (expletive). The people in the
'hoods and ghettos, they have to do a better job themselves. People
make a big deal about Len Bias. But in the black community, drugs
kill a lot of doctors, policemen and lawyers, whether it's using or
drive-by shootings. It's probably an epidemic."

This is our challenge, all of ours. Whether you live in D.C. or
Birmingham, whether you shoot hoops or practice law, everyone carries
this responsibility.

Or is 20 years the shelf life for a martyr?

Ray Melick is on vacation. News staff writer Jon Solomon fills in today.

Bias' death should have taught lesson

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Monday marked 20 years since University of Maryland basketball star
Len Bias died of a cocaine overdose.

If you're of a certain age and lived in the Washington, D.C., area in
1986, the death rocked you. How could Len Bias, the 22-year-old
anticipated savior of the Boston Celtics, with everything to live for, be dead?

The story needs to be retold.

"These players now are a different generation," said Charles Barkley,
who would have been Bias' NBA contemporary. "They don't know stuff
that happened last week."

Around the time of Bias' death, as Barkley's own brother struggled
with drug use, Barkley considered trying cocaine. He wanted to
understand the fascination. Bias' death "scared me from going
anywhere near it," Barkley said.

We don't know if Bias was a one-time drug user, or had used multiple
times, as some teammates later claimed. Former Maryland coach Lefty
Driesell's pre-draft words remain eerie: "Leonard's only vice is ice cream."

Bias put a face on cocaine. Congress passed the Anti-Drug Abuse Act
of 1986, and stiffer sentences were enacted for those convicted of
trafficking in drugs.

Professional teams conducted more thorough background checks, and the
NCAA started random drug testing.

Twenty years later, you can't help but wonder.

Would the Celtics have stayed a dynasty? Bias could have eased the
workload for aging stars Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale.

Would Bias have become Michael Jordan's personal rival he always
lacked? Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski has always said Jordan and Bias
are the two players who really stand out in all his years.

Mostly, I wonder this: How many lives did Bias' death save? How many
people, like Barkley, were discouraged to even try drugs? And how
long does that impact last?

I was 9 years old growing up in Maryland when Bias died. I learned
about his death watching the news scroll below a "Family Ties"
re-run. Some buddies and I started a club, Friends Against Drugs, and
I like to think it helped someone.

But time passes. LeBron James is the new "next" Michael Jordan (never
mind that Bias was really the "first" LeBron. And drugs change, too.

I worry the Bias story is wearing off, not just in basketball,
because drugs are like any other market.

"In the black community, we have got to do a better job with policing
our community and let the drug dealers know they're not welcome,"
Barkley said. "Police don't care about poor neighborhoods, whether
they're white, black or Hispanic.

"America discriminates against poor people. You can't deal drugs in
Mountain Brook. They'll get your (expletive). The people in the
'hoods and ghettos, they have to do a better job themselves. People
make a big deal about Len Bias. But in the black community, drugs
kill a lot of doctors, policemen and lawyers, whether it's using or
drive-by shootings. It's probably an epidemic."

This is our challenge, all of ours. Whether you live in D.C. or
Birmingham, whether you shoot hoops or practice law, everyone carries
this responsibility.

Or is 20 years the shelf life for a martyr?

Ray Melick is on vacation. News staff writer Jon Solomon fills in today.