WELL-LIKED WINGER IS SICK, NOT EVIL

ATLANTA -- Within the context of the relationships that can be formed
between journalists and the professional athletes we report on, Kevin
Stevens and I are friends.

But then, Stevens is probably a friend of just about everyone in hockey
who's ever known him. If the NHL awarded a trophy for its most well-liked
and popular player, it would have to be named the Kevin Stevens Trophy.

I heard the news last night, as everyone else did. Probably much later than
most, in fact, following two flight cancellations and then a further
lengthy delay flying here from St. Louis, where the Rangers had played
Saturday night. I heard the news that my friend had been arrested early
yesterday morning in someplace called Collinsville, Ill., on charges
involving crack cocaine and solicitation.

I heard the news and was dumbstruck. My friend in jail. My friend in
trouble. My friend in terrible trouble.

As it evolves, the story will be reported in this space professionally.
That is my responsibility. Players will be interviewed. Their responses
will be relayed. Impact will be measured. The facts will be communicated
honestly. This is my job.

But I will report this story with compassion, with the same compassion I
have for everyone of us who suffers from weakness. More than weakness; a
disease. I will not judge, as I do not judge frailties such as the one my
friend fell victim to in Collinsville, Ill., early yesterday morning.

The headlines across the continent will shout about a hockey star busted
for hard drugs. I will write about a good man, a good husband, a good
father, and a friend, who in crisis plunged himself into an abyss.

What happened to cause this? I don't know. I know that Stevens had received
prior counseling for substance abuse, I know that he knew his time with the
Rangers was coming to a terribly disappointing end, but I don't know what
drove him to such despair and such desperation that he wound up in
Collinsville, Ill., with a prostitute, doing crack cocaine.

Stevens and I had talked on Thursday night in Carolina about the
difficulties the Rangers were having in finding a team to trade for him. He
is a former All-Star, one of the league's best players of the early '90s,
and now, at age 34, his career was coming to a close. There was no more
room for him on the Rangers.

He had thought the Penguins would trade for him because of his very close
friendship with Mario Lemieux, his teammate on the 1991 and 1992 Pittsburgh
Stanley Cup champions and now the team owner. But the Penguins would only
trade for him under conditions the Rangers found impossible to meet,
conditions that would have cost the Rangers more than $2 million.

We talked on Saturday morning in St. Louis. We talked about the big trade
story around the team. He laughed as easily as ever. He did not appear a
man in turmoil.

What happened? I don't know. He played Saturday night, he got into his
first game in a couple of weeks. Got into the game because Adam Graves had
returned home to be with his wife, who had given birth last week to twins,
born 21/2 months premature. Stevens played. He did not play very well.

Could that have caused his despair? Could that have driven him to a motel
in Collinsville, Ill., to a prostitute, to a glass pipe and to smoking
crack cocaine?

I don't know. I don't know.

I know that my friend is in trouble. I know that he, and others who suffer
from afflictions such as his, need treatment, not time in prison. I know
that he needs support and help. I know that he is no different from the
masses who rot needlessly in jail as horrible casualties of this
government's horribly failed war on drugs.

I heard the news and I was dumbstruck. My friend is in jail.