Centers of Dissension

Thomas has the heart of a center while Haywood has the classic 7-foot, 263-pound physique. On some planet, there may be a machine that could meld the two men. But none is available in Washington. So these two ludicrous combatants should wake up every day and give thanks that they have each other as teammates. No two players in the NBA, if they saw things clearly, would appreciate the other man more. But they don't get it. Five-plus seasons of competing for minutes has blinded them. To evaluate their own games, they look at their paychecks instead of watching game films or confronting the facts on the stat sheet.

Over the next four years, the Wizards will pay Thomas $26.5 million and Haywood $21 million. Which may explain why Haywood's elbows get frisky: Haywood is averaging 24.3 minutes per game to a mere 19.4 minutes for Thomas. Oh, the inequity.

To make matters worse, when Thomas and Haywood talk about their feud, they instantly mortify themselves. The least Haywood and Thomas can do is stop mortifying themselves with their playground comments about each other.

"I am trying to find my rhythm after missing a month with this ankle injury . . . and this cat decides to hit me with a cheap shot during practice and I reacted," said Thomas, trying to explain the pair's punch-out last week. "San Antonio just beat us by what seemed like a hundred but I guess all that matters to him is he didn't get the minutes he thinks he deserves, so he's mad, which results in a displacement of anger. Bottom line, I'm not putting up with any garbage from Brendan Todd Haywood."

Did Bill Russell worry where his rivals' "displaced their anger?" Did Kareem Abdul-Jabbar taunt competitors with their middle names? Besides, who's Thomas to talk? "Etan" is derived from King Akhenaton. (Honest.) Don't tell Haywood. He'll tease Thomas about worshipping the sun and start another brawl.

What makes this situation doubly ludicrous and unnecessary is that Haywood and Thomas are, in general, the opposite of problem players. The polished Haywood starred four seasons in the classy North Carolina program. The charitable Thomas writes poetry and is active in political organizations and the American Civil Liberties Union.

The Wizards may not be a wonderful team, but they are an entertaining and winning one. Their key, when they're playing well, is that every player is wonderfully suited to his role. Jamison and Caron Butler can score 40 points between them, not 30 or 35, because teams must defend Arenas first. Antonio Daniels and DeShawn Stevenson are veterans delighted to be complementary players.

Only Haywood and Thomas fail to grasp their place in the scheme of things. If they don't fix their feud, the Wizards will ultimately end up getting rid of one of them. Whoever leaves will become an obscure backup center someplace else. And whoever stays will, after being exposed by too many minutes against superior opponents, end up as a backup center here.

The oldest story in sports: win together or lose alone. Which will it be?