NO WAY TO TOLERATE ZERO-TOLERANCE POLICY

The legalities of the case have been debated on CNN, talked about with
Oprah and will be determined in court, where they belong.

But the lasting impact of Rickey Higgins vs. Warren Township High
School leaves the strong sense that if this is an example of justice
served and lessons learned, something is very, very wrong.

Higgins is a talented senior basketball player who helped lead his
team to a runner-up finish in the Class AA state tournament last
season. He also is an alcoholic.

He learned this from social workers and psychologists after he crashed
his car into a tree last spring. His father is a recovering alcoholic;
so, too, his grandfather. Recognizing this, and the severity of his
problem, particularly after his mother had a "living wake" for his
friends at their home the night after the accident to impress upon her
son that this is what they would be doing if he had died, Higgins
sought help.

He admitted he was an alcoholic, underwent treatment, began going to
meetings, spoke to student groups of his own volition and considered
his "punishment."

Not the judge's punishment, which was court supervision and
substance-abuse counseling, the most lenient of the possible
penalties. No, this punishment was the high school's decision to
suspend him from basketball for one year, essentially a lifetime
suspension for a senior, and perhaps a life-altering one because he
was in position to earn a college scholarship.

The rule at Warren is that athletes sign a code of conduct agreeing
they will not be involved with alcohol. It also states that if
self-reported, the first violation--missing 30 percent of the sports
season--will be reduced to 20 percent; a second violation will result
in a year's suspension from sports; and a third, a "lifetime" suspension.

Two weeks before his accident, Higgins was a passenger in a car
stopped for a routine traffic violation. An open container of alcohol
was spotted, Higgins was given a village ticket and reported it to the
school. Two weeks later he was out of basketball.

There were no conditions of reinstatement, no real support for Higgins
other than allowing him to stay in school. If they don't call it "zero
tolerance," as some high schools do in enforcing various rules, that
is essentially what it is.

That's the new catch phrase these days, zero tolerance. Interesting
because tolerance is defined as "the capacity to recognize and respect
the opinions, practices or behavior of others. Leeway for variation,
as from a standard."

But there's no leeway here. No capacity to understand the behavior. No
attempt to review the case individually and as a possible exception to
the code.

That's not quite the nurturing one expects from high school, nor the
positive influence high school sports are supposed to provide.

The righteous indignation of bystanders has been staggering. Higgins
has received hate mail, and his parents have been subjected to disdain
and ridicule. He broke the code, he broke the law, so he should be
punished. That's the general message, with various insults and
obscenities sprinkled in.

His lawsuit, which asks for reinstatement to the team and $100,000 in
compensatory damages, will not garner them any sympathy. Steven Glink,
attorney for the family, maintains that under the law, alcoholism is
recognized as a disability. As such, Glink says, the school is in
violation of the Americans With Disabilities Act, since Higgins'
conduct was a direct manifestation of his disease and unrelated to the
school or to the team.

Higgins' parents are not looking to get rich or for vindication. If
they wanted that, they would have a case against the parents in whose
home he had been drinking before the accident. And if the only thing
in which Higgins is interested is a college scholarship, he could have
transferred.

He already has given up his anonymity, an integral part of most
alcohol-recovery programs, in an effort to play again and to play for
his school. By allowing that, the school would not be enabling him any
more than his parents are because he already has confronted his
addiction and its consequences.

"To Rickey the most dire consequences are to lose basketball," said
his mother, Elizabeth Stearns, now an advocate in helping parents spot
the signs of teenage substance abuse. "This is his life, his soul, his
gift from God. This is where he puts his commitment in life. The
basketball court is the one place where he is whole, where he is smart
and fast and a leader. It is where you saw all the problems slip away
and you saw your child healthy and committed."

One of the most eloquent letters Stearns received in defense of
reinstating her son to the team was from a school psychologist who
said he was being asked to wage the biggest battle of his young life
without the one thing from which he receives his self-esteem.

Stearns does not want her son to escape consequences, but
psychologists tell her punishment should be designed to correct
behavior. To that end, she, Higgins' father and stepparents agree:
Measures such as community service, random drug testing and proof of
attendance at Alcoholics Anonymous and alcohol-education meetings will
facilitate his recovery program. Because Higgins is an athlete,
Stearns believes, there is less tolerance.

"I would love it if he played the piano or violin or was an artist,"
she said. "But you don't take away a pianist's piano or the camera
from a budding photographer."

Higgins fractured a vertebra last season and during the state
tournament he took nine stitches near his eye before returning to
play. He was a leader. Now he's a bad kid and apparently all is right
with the world because he has been banished.

So what exactly is being accomplished here?

"He gave them his heart," Higgins' mother said. "Now he has given them
his soul."