I never thought I'd be the fall guy: ok, wise guys, you get one guess on what you see in a sportwriter's head.

One afternoon in February, rising to debate with striped-shirted incompetents, the Duke University basketball master Mike Krzyzewski fainted.

He did it casually, almost as if bending down to tie his shoes, then curled up for a nap on the court named for him.

"Over my 30 years of coaching," Krzyzewski said, "it's happened a number of times. I don't know if it's ever happened to you, but when you get up real quick, sometimes you get lightheaded. I felt like a chump. Like someone hit me with an air punch and I'm out. I'm thinking, 'What an idiot ...'"

I know the feeling.

It was about 8:30 on the Thursday morning after the Super Bowl. I stood outside the elevators in a hospital lobby, anxious to visit my wife.

Also in a half-hour I was to call Tony La Russa, who had begun a media campaign to defend his old star and friend, Mark McGwire, again drawn into baseball's steroid mess, this time by accusations coming from another of La Russa's former stars, Jose Canseco.

Canseco's claims of McGwire's steroid use were specific and more persuasive than any evidence involving, say, Barry Bonds. I had heard some of La Russa's criticism already: He said Canseco's charges grew from jealousy and envy of McGwire's success. But, I thought, that didn't address the real issue.