Another week, another merciless beating for the NBA's image.

What's that? No, no, I'm not talking about Jerry Sloan thumping an official or Ron Artest trying to beat the Gucci out of Pat Riley. And I'm not referring to Affair Jordan's latest courtroom squabble, either. Or, for that matter, Shawn Kemp's paternity suit du jour or the latest pair of Jail Blazers to fire up a doobie or slap around their significant others.

	"What's wrong with you D? You're ruinin' our rep!"

And, as far as I know, Allen Iverson hasn't been toting a piece lately and Latrell Sprewell hasn't tried to pick the Adam's apple from Don Chaney's neck. All's quiet on the Shaq front, too, after his ill-advised comments about Yao Ming managed to offend every person in the world's most populated country.

Even Rasheed Wallace, that one-man army of loose cannons, has been accounted for, if not present. Wallace has been off serving a seven-game suspension for threatening to dismember an official, presumably splitting time between the shrink's couch and his friendly neighborhood tattoo parlor.

None of those guys are the problem. Not as of this morning, anyway. Desmond Mason, he's your problem. Somebody's got to do something about this guy. And Jeff Bzdelik. Trouble, nothing but trouble. And, while we're on the subject, Bobby Jackson's teammates haven't exactly been doing the league's image any favors, either.

Evidently, somebody forgot to tell those three about the unwritten rules of the Nobody's Behaving Association, where selfishness is more commonplace than jock itch. Gen-X NBA players aren't supposed to care about anybody but themselves and their posses, loosely defined as their homeys, their bodyguards, their chauffeurs and, in more cases than the league would care to know, their dealers.

Today's NBA players are supposed to hip and hop and talk trash and hang with the ladies. They're supposed to live The Life, batteries and mansion included. They're supposed to be in it for the jack, the commercials, the shoe contracts, the SportsCenter moments and, though it can be a distraction at times, to win a game every now and then.

So what's up with this Mason dude? He shows up at a University of Washington women's hoops practice Monday -- rumor is, he even drove himself -- to check in on Kayla Burt, who was revived by her teammates after her heart stopped on New Year's Eve -- and just happens to be a huge fan of the Sonics star forward. He even brought her an autographed jersey and tickets for Tuesday's Sonics-Warriors game. A few minutes later, he became the first-ever NBA player to lose a game of H-O-R-S-E to a woman with a defibrillator in her chest.

Then there's Bzdelik, a journeyman coach surrounded by journeymen players on the Nuggets roster. He recently sent New Mexico point guard Senque Carey a letter of encouragement after Carey was paralyzed for two weeks from a fluke collision on the court. Once Carey started walking again, Bzdelik gave him a tour of the Pepsi Center in Denver.

Oh, did we mention the last few sentences of the letter? Bzdelik concluded it by promising Carey, who underwent surgery on his spinal cord this week, a tryout with the Nuggets when he's healthy.

	We hope you at least made him pay for the tour.

What in the name of Maurice Stokes is going on here? Wait, you haven't heard anything yet. The Kings' entire roster has been giving the league a bad name. Every player on the team was burning the midnight oil in Toronto, one of the great club towns on the NBA map, last Saturday night before an afternoon game against the Raptors. Nothing unusual there, except for a few minor details.

It seems, instead of flying to Toronto from Atlanta after a Friday night loss to the Hawks, the players insisted on a Saturday stopover in Charlotte. From there, the team boarded a bus for a two-hour drive to Salisbury, N.C. to attend the funeral of Jackson's mother, Sara, who had lost a long battle with cancer.

"I don't think any of us cared if it was a five-hour bus ride," Kings forward Lawrence Funderburke told the Sacramento Bee. "From the bottom of our hearts, it was a decision we made because we wanted to be there for Bobby, no matter what. He's like a brother to us, and brothers support brothers."

Sure enough, the players, after arriving in Toronto several hours later than originally scheduled, were a step slow the next afternoon. C-Webb had a triple double and Mike Bibby scored a season-high 30 points, but the Kings lost 101-97 to the lowly Raptors. Afterward, Rick Adelman talked about not taking advantage of opportunities, about missing key shots down the stretch, yadda, yadda, yadda. Somehow, amid all that coachspeak, he forgot the part about the funeral.

Can you believe these guys? In the span of a few days, they've all but blown the image the NBA has worked years to perfect. I suppose, next thing you know, the league is going to launch an advertising campaign with its players: Got class?

Jim Armstrong, a sports columnist for the Denver Post, will be a regular contributor to Page 2.