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Royal salute to Sir Charles

Special to Page 2


I have a dream that one day Charles Barkley will visit me at The Water Cooler.

Charles Barkley
When Charles Barkley is around, the laughs never stop.
But it must stay a dream. If Barkley ever did swing by The Cooler, I'd be forced to make up some dialogue for him. If there's one thing this ink-stained, cheap-shotting, smarmy scribe can't do, it's begin to approximate what hilarity might come out of Charles Barkley, a man I believe has America's Most Fertile Mind.

So today, there will be no visit to The Cooler. It's Barkley Day at The Cooler, and that means no man should be forced to sit under the fluorescents when riffing on Chas.

Seriously. Am I the last person in America to realize how brilliant this guy's commentary is? Has my studied indifference toward the NBA's regular season made me the last man aboard the Barkley Train? See, I kind of have this policy: Follow the NBA only from May to June. Sort of like watching only the final two minutes of a game, only expand that theory to an entire season.

So I've missed the guy until now. Better late than never. On an otherwise dreary Friday night in a Dallas hotel room, I was treated to commentary and quips as inside as sports TV gets. Barkley offered allusions from "The Jeffersons" to Nipsey Russell, all the while treating us to constant riffs on Karl Malone's unreal morning coat and rib-length knit tie from an unfortunate Draft Day in 1985. Barkley on TNT is like being in an NBA locker room, only it's the time when reporters aren't allowed.

I always knew he was a genius. This goes back to my days working at the prep desk of the L.A. Times. We had a security guard named Kevin, said he was from Leeds, Ala. What could I care? Well, Kevin told me why I should care: Charles Barkley is from Leeds, Ala.

Kevin used to regale me with Barkley stories, when Kevin should have been minding the store. I wish I could remember all of them. I just remember that Kevin would have to pick up Charles for summer school, and that instead of going to summer school, Charles would make him stop at Hardee's, where they would eat all morning. I also know that Barkley called Kevin "Ick."

Dirk Nowitzki
Dirk Nowitzki didn't let a missing tooth stop him as the Mavs stayed alive against the Spurs.
I asked why. Turns out it was raining one day in Leeds, Ala., and Kevin was riding his bike with a rain poncho on, head bowed. Charles saw this, and thought Kevin looked like the Headless Horseman, Ichabod Crane. Called him "Ick."

From George Jefferson to Washington Irving: I ask you, is there anything my man Barkley can't discuss?

Kenny Smith jumped him at one point, noting that ESPN's own Fred Carter said that Barkley resembled "Bookman." the clownish superintendent from "Good Times." Without missing a beat, Barkley shot back: "Nipsey Russell's gonna call me Bookman?"

In honor of C.B., we dedicate a Nipsey Russell rhyming couplet, bringing us to this Weekend's List of Five: "The List of Five can't touch Charles/Though it tries with good cheer/What's better is Barkley uncensored/And a six-pack of beer."

Wow, that's bad. But I'm on deadline.

1. Dirk Nowitzki's tooth
Ewwww. Gross. No sport, no title, no championship is worth losing a front tooth. I swear, I get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. If I lost a front tooth, I'd probably never stop crying. Or bleeding. I would certainly not come back into an NBA game and drive the lane.

I give the Big Teuton respect. But if he came to my door at night, and I saw him through the fish-eye lens, toothless and all, I'd probably run screaming through a plate-glass window.

2. Byron Nelson, or Don Corleone?
Byron Nelson
Byron Nelson presided over his tournament this weekend like Don Corleone at his daughter's wedding.
Spent the week at TPC Las Colinas, sweating and watching Robert Damron beat back the world, including Eldrick. What I will take away from the experience was not the golf, but the sight of 89-year-old Byron Nelson in a giant, overstuffed chair, under a canopy, presiding over the 18th green. Players hole out, then come pay their respects on the way to the scorer's tent. All that's missing is the ring kiss.

I swear I heard Briny Baird ask Nelson for a putting tip, and I swear I heard Nelson say, in a disgusted, hoarse whisper: "You come to me on the day of my own tournament to ask me this favor?"

3. A no-hitter in the bigs
Don't cheat. Don't look it up. But I dare you to tell me who threw the no-hitter, who he plays for, and who he threw it against. I double-dog dare you to tell me again in October.

Do it and you get luxury box seats to the next Marlins-Padres game and an autographed A.J. Burnett ball -- aw, shoot! I blew it!

4. Jason Williams: Smaller than Gary Coleman in a house of mirrors
I guess this goes to my NBA regular-season blackout policy, but I had no idea Sacramento's Jason Williams comes up so small whenever his team needs him. I wanted to get into the guy -- to enjoy the artful passes, the constant hustle, the idea of a white hick in the NBA. Yeah. Wishful thinking.

A.J. Burnett
Who is this man? And what did he do Saturday night that makes him special?
Like Shaq said, when C-Webb leaves, it's "back to expansionism" for the cowbell fans.

5. More riffing on Charles
First of all, I give Ernie Johnson massive amounts of credit. He handles Barkley with grace and understatement. He plays straight man way better than Ed McMahon ever dreamed.

Another favorite moment: Barkley, answering Johnson's question about living with Michael in Chicago, spitting out, "Why would I go live with Michael? Michael's got a wife and kids." When Johnson started to talk, Barkley interrupted, for just the sheer demeaning comedy of it all, "And he's got a basement bigger than your house."

Finally, Charles bragged that he could get Johnson and Kenny Smith on "The Tonight Show" during the Western Conference finals, only to have Johnson inform him they would be on location in San Antonio -- not Los Angeles. Charles buried his head in his hands. Open disrespect of an entire city: You gotta love this guy.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Monday Morning Water Cooler" every week for Page 2.

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