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I pick, therefore I am.Hmmm.I have no idea what that means. I just thought it sounded good.

This column caught me by surprise, much the way -- well, much the way a baby catches you by surprise. I was having dinner with some friends for the first time since these crazy NBA playoffs began. I excused myself to call the office. It's a habit I should learn to break."Did you hear about Isiah?" the voice asked."No. What?""His baby was born. A boy."

SAN FRANCISCO -- This was all you needed to see. Second inning. The pitcher at the plate. For cripes sake, not the pitcher, too! Two strikes, two outs, and the guy, Mike Moore, an American League hurler, has only batted once before in his career. He holds the bat like Mary Poppins held her umbrella. A sure out, right?And here comes the pitch.And there goes the ball, to centerfield.And here come the runners.

LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- What could be more American than drinking beer and not showering after a workout? Hey, half my college roommates fit that description. So it's very comforting to find a guy with similar habits right here at the Kentucky Derby. Only the guy isn't American. Nor, when you get right down to it, is he a guy. He is a horse.A British horse.

It was everything they had, every ounce of desire, strength, guts. The Pistons kept the Celtics at bay with three minutes left, Danny Ainge missed a long jumper, but the Celtics got the rebound, Larry Bird missed a long jumper but the Celtics got the rebound, Robert Parish missed, the Celtics again. It was as if destiny was toying with Detroit, ignoring its blood. Two more times the Celtics would miss and get their own crazy rebound. And then Ainge, standing outside the three-point mark, sending an airborne bullet that swished. Through the heart.

What's the difference," someone asks Jack Morris, who is relaxing by his locker, "between a veteran clubhouse and a young clubhouse?"He runs a hand through his hair, leans forward, then says it can best be summed up with a joke. "You might not be able to use it," he warns. "It's a little dirty."No problem. We'll clean it up.

CALGARY, Alberta -- I walked down the corridor of press offices, and knocked softly on the door marked "TASS." It was opened by an older man in a gray coat. "Hello," I said quickly, extending a hand. The man shook his head, pointed at the floor and began babbling in Russian.Trouble, I figured. But I figured wrong. What he was saying, I would learn, was: "We Russians don't shake hands through a doorway; come inside and shake like friends."

One-derful.Marvelous. If they were all like this, the parade already would have started. Here were the Pistons Tuesday night, with all the cobwebs cleared, with full concentration, jaws clenched, shooting eyes narrowed, attacking the National Basketball Association Finals as if they'd been waiting all month, all year, all their lives. Which, come to think of it, they had.

THE LIVE ALBOM:* It's Final Four time again. Just four schools, playing on network TV, prime time, every living soul in the free world betting on it. Your basic little college tournament, in other words. * Duke and Arizona. * Uh, that's a prediction, I reckon. FINAL FOUR QUIZ I: HOW DOES THIS MAN PRONOUNCE HIS NAME? 1. Krzyzewski 2. Shushefski 3. Shuflyshoo 4. Hey bud 5. Mike

WIMBLEDON, England -- She is still halfway between there and here, like an infant frozen in those first steps from mother to father. Behind Martina Navratilova is a country, a family, and now, five straight Wimbledon championships. Alongside her is a Texas estate, a woman friend, an American coach. Ahead of her still lies acceptance, a place in our hearts. And there is no telling when it will all come together.

CLEVELAND -- Bernie Kosar came walking back to his locker, grinning like a thief."You won't believe who just called me," he whispered to fellow quarterback Garry Danielson."Who?" said Danielson.

Let us talk today about the touchdown celebration. It is not what it used to be.Gone are the days of Billy (White Shoes) Johnson, wiggling his knees like a man balancing on an ocean raft.Gone are the days of "the dice roll," where two players dropped to the turf, spun the football, then slapped hands as if they'd just rolled snake eyes.Remember when the spike was a work of art? Now the trend is to flip the ball to the referee and run off in search of a Gatorade bucket to dump on the coach.