PHELPS' BAD EXAMPLE

Sometimes a writer goes searching for one story and finds something
quite different, maybe even more important. You can, as I did,
stumble upon ordinary people -- like swimming coaches Jenny
Baldowski; her sons, Neal and Phillip, of the Augusta Riptides; and
Philadelphia swim coach Jim Ellis of the "Pride" biopic -- who are
accomplishing gold-medal feats despite limited resources and the
negative forces and images working against their efforts with
disadvantaged athletes. How do these community coaches handle the
fallout when a high-profile athlete, such as Olympic swimmer Michael
Phelps, messes up with even a "dumb mistake," as Mr. Ellis said,
after all the hurdles these mentors jump, at considerable personal
cost, to keep their young athletes involved in sports and swimming a
straight and narrow path?

Are their aspiring swimmers disappointed about their idol being
photographed hitting a marijuana bong? What do Mrs. Baldowski and Mr.
Ellis tell their charges, some of whom must step over addicts,
gangbangers and prostitutes to get to a pool, if a pool is even
available in their neighborhoods year-round? What advice do they give
to parents? How would they counsel Mr. Phelps if he called them "coach?"

"If he were my swimmer, I would pull him aside and talk to him and
say, 'Look, you've achieved rock-star status, they say your name and
Tiger Woods' name in the same sentence, so the whole world is
watching . and you have to watch yourself, because everybody coming
at you is not your friend,' " said Mr. Ellis.

As for his own swimmers, Mr. Ellis reminds them that "we see this
every day and night .. step over crack vials ... but you are here
because you dared to be different." He added that his youngsters
would not be influenced by Mr. Phelps' example because "they had a
choice to do it anyway, but decided to do something else."

Mr. Ellis said he knows Mr. Phelps and his coach and watched the
young man develop during swimming competitions. "The same people who
sat down with him and listed his goals for inside the pool, where are
his goals for outside the pool? Maybe they did make a list, and he
didn't listen, I don't know," Mr. Ellis said.

Mr. Ellis, like Mrs. Baldowski, said Mr. Phelps' was "slapped on the
wrist" for his latest scrap with the law. Those who sanctioned the
swimmer only did so because "they were backed in a corner," he suggested.

By now you know that an atypical photograph of wunderkind Michael was
splattered across the front page of a London tabloid last week. The
23-year-old man was caught by a cellular-phone photographer taking a
hit from a bong, presumably containing marijuana, during what appears
to be frat party at the University of South Carolina last fall after
his brilliant performance in Beijing.

The sanctions came only after days of treading water in the whirlpool
of public opinion. In face-saving gestures, Kellogg's announced that
it would not renew his contract, which was set to expire this month
anyway. And USA Swimming officials suspended his stipend and ability
to compete for three months, which coincidentally ends just in time
for the best swimmer ever to compete for the world championships in Rome.

By Friday when the South Carolina sheriff finally said he would
investigate possible criminal charges against Mr. Phelps, my intended
restraint to swim against the boys-will-be-boys tide succumbed to the
wave of controversy splashing over his chlorine-cleaned image.

"Who do you know, who is under 60 in America, who hasn't tried
marijuana at least once?" asked a friend attempting to push me into
the whirlpool.

"That's not the point. His face is on a Wheaties' box," I retorted.

"Phelps set himself up to be a role model for children, and he makes
a lot of money doing it. Besides, what really bothers me are the
double standards," I explained to my sports-savvy friend as my
reasons for not throwing the doused swimmer a lifeline as quickly as
so many others had, including him.

I cringed, for example, when I witnessed a female cable-news
reporter, who concluded the weak "mea culpa" interview with the
soiled swimmer by forgetting all journalistic ethics and patting Mr.
Phelps on the shoulder and saying, "We're all rooting for you."

No, we "all" are not.

Mr. Phelps was wrong, this time as before when he pleaded guilty to a
drunken-driving charge, and he must make bigger amends. And I have
the appropriate penance.

Clearly, the fawning cable-news reporter hadn't heard the Phelps
furor on urban radio during popular syndicated programs, such as "The
Tom Joyner Morning Show," as Mr. Ellis pointed out and which he said
forced some of the sponsors to act against the swimmer. Mr. Phelps'
belly-flop even sparked debate among some about the uneven criminal
sentences for crack and cocaine offenses.

The urban hosts and callers questioned the "so what?" support for Mr.
Phelps, as well as the soft, disparate sanctions slapped against the
white swimmer. They argued that other athletes, primarily minority
football, basketball and track stars, have been vilified for similar behavior.

"As soon as a brother does something, [the media] drops [him] like
it's hot. The black community thinks it would have been handled
differently" if the swimmer were white, Mr. Ellis said.

Mrs. Baldwoski, a white lady who home-schools her sons, is a Scout
leader and has volunteered for Special Olympics events, said, "if it
had been me or anybody else," USA Swimming may have suspended him for
at least one or two years or even stopped him from competing altogether.

Lap turn: Before you stop reading because you think this may be a
column about racial inequity, think again. Keep stroking. We are
switching lanes.

First, I don't care what color the athlete, celebrity, politician or
next-door neighbor is. If you hold yourself out to be a role model,
which most athletes are to impressionable children, then you had
better act like one - at least when you are in a roomful of strangers
holding mini-Candid Cameras.

The soft-spoken Mrs. Baldowski said everybody makes mistakes, but she
and her girls were "blown away" when they learned about the Phelps
photographs. She is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when
he promises it won't happen again.

"I hope he does, because he's got a lot of people, coaches like me,
who are watching him," she said.

Moviegoers know Mr. Ellis named his Cinderella swimming team the
"PDR" to instill "pride, determination and responsibility."

"You tell your kids that if they mess up, they are responsible; they
didn't make a good decision and then you move on, that's the best you
can do," said Mr. Ellis.

Unfortunately, today Mr. Ellis and his assistant can only travel
"wherever they can find water," to coach a few swimmers because the
city of Philadelphia closed down the Marcus Foster recreation center
in Niceton, Pa., which was in need of major repairs, despite its
momentary Hollywood fame.

Work on a book and a movie sequel have been delayed, primarily
because of health concerns, but Mr. Ellis is still trying to raise
fund for his "grass-roots efforts" for his team, which has won meets
against the odds for decades.

Michael Phelps, are you listening? Here is a real story.

A weakened economy and budget cuts also almost sank the county swim
team on the south side of Augusta, Ga., which Mrs. Baldowski's sons
also coach. Because the family couldn't afford for Neal to be on a
private team, they wanted to provide an opportunity for disadvantaged
children to swim year-round so they formed the Augusta Riptides
(www.augustariptides.com) about 18 months ago, primarily with their
own money and discounted fees from most families in the racially mixed area.

A true champion would share the valuable life lessons he's endured,
wet and dry, with his fans who need them most. For my pardon, Mr.
Phelps should sprinkle more of his youth foundation money earned
through his gold-medal success on struggling programs for
disadvantaged aspiring athletes led by the likes of Mrs. Baldowski
and Mr. Ellis.

It is simply not enough for Mr. Phelps - or any Billy Bad Boy
athlete, for that matter - to mumble that he's sorry, only to be
splashed on the wrist yet again, slip sheepishly underwater only to
resurface a soggy Wheaties' champ.

That boys-will-be-boys butterfly stroke just won't wash.