Mount St. Dennis Finally Blew

You can’t cure Dennis Rodman, you can only hope to contain him. Ask John Lucas, Bob Hill, David Robinson. No one rides free on Rodman’s tattooed back.

Smoke had been coming out of the volcano for two weeks. Eleven days before his New Jersey eruption, Rodman yelled at Chicago Bull Coach Phil Jackson for taking him out. Six days before, he complained publicly about Jackson’s substitution policy. Three days before, he dived out of bounds, broke a photographer’s camera and raged at him.

“He could have moved,” Rodman said. “I ain’t buying him nothing. I should send him my doctor’s bill.”

Jackson called in Rodman to tell him he was over the line. Apparently, Dennis didn’t get the hint.

He proceeded to pole vault over the line at New Jersey, serving himself up to NBA Commissioner David Stern like a pig with an apple in its mouth. For dessert, he challenged Stern to take him down, which Easy Dave was delighted to do.

Only two players ever got harsher penalties: Kermit Washington, who caved in Rudy Tomjanovich’s face with a punch, and Vernon Maxwell, who went into the stands and hit a fan. Rodman didn’t hurt anyone, though he did rant, tear off his jersey, knock over the water cooler, put his hands in his shorts and give referee Ted Bernhardt a little head butt. Of course, being Dennis Rodman didn’t hurt, either.

It was fun for the NBA brass and every moralist, comedian and sports anchor working. Michael Jordan, long wary of such an inconvenience to his title plans, ripped Rodman, embracing the press so warmly, he called the Chicago Tribune’s Sam Smith by name for the first time since the publication of Smith’s 1991 book, “The Jordan Rules,” which debunked the Mike-as-angel myth.

Jordan referred to Rodman’s behavior as “that crap,” adding, “Phil’s been good at corralling and keeping him under control. Now he’s kind of gotten loose.”

Rodman issued an apology through the Bulls, or someone did. On his weekly radio show, Rodman suggested that he didn’t mean it or, perhaps, didn’t know about it.

In his statement, Rodman said he had let everyone down, deserved to be punished and would change. On the radio, he returned to his persecution mantra, asking to meet Stern “face to face.” Given what he did to Bernhardt’s face, it isn’t likely Stern will take the meeting.

Not that Rodman hasn’t earned it but it’s true, NBA officials dislike him and referees watch him especially carefully. Ironically, he has dialed up league visibility as no one else could have. The Bulls’ TV ratings, 40% ahead of the league, will surge anew when he returns. When Inside Sports put him on its February cover, sales jumped 9%. Editor Ken Leiker says a Jordan cover, no rarity, doesn’t offer the same bounce.

As a plot development, Rodman’s departure was well timed, since it appeared that the Bulls at full strength might never lose. Of course, as events proved, they can get along without anyone else, as long as Jordan remains. In the six games after Scottie Pippen left, followed three games later by Rodman, Jordan averaged 34 points, 10 rebounds and four assists. The Bulls went 6-0.

And there’s more smoke over the volcano! Rodman’s book, “Bad As I Wanna Be,” is coming, with Dennis naked on a motorcycle on the cover.

“I think it’s gonna explain everything I think about the NBA,” Rodman said recently. “David Stern and everybody will get [upset].”

How about another suspension?

“I don’t care,” said Rodman. “Probably.”

What’s going on in his colorful, impenetrable head? Is he a man in trouble, as when his marriage broke up in 1993 and he was found in the parking lot at the Palace of Auburn Hills with a rifle in his truck? Is he as strung out as he was that spring when he wept on Roy Firestone’s show?

Here’s the scary part. Apparently, everything is aces.

“It’s only been going right,” says Dwight Manley, his Orange County-based manager. “It’s never been better.

“He never issued a formal apology before. He cares. He actually pays attention to contracts and deals. Before, it was just earn and spend. But some people have trouble with success and undermine their own success.”

OK, it’ll be nip and tuck. Rodman may head-butt Jordan and be exiled for life or wind up in the Oval Office, shaking President Clinton’s hand after the Bulls win the title.

One thing is sure, he won’t change much. Still Dennis after all these years.

SO MUCH FOR THE NBA’S CONTRACT WITH AMERICA

Even for a league made up of people who are, uh, out there, it was a memorable week:

--March 15: Charles Barkley, playing his last game at the Spectrum, rails once more at the Philadelphia press, which he calls racist to explain its harsh coverage of his early years, when he was even more out of control than he is now.

After an emotional session with Barkley, a white reporter and a black reporter argue over the definition of racism.

Asks Danny Manning, laughing, “Where is the love in this room?”

Says Hot Rod Williams, “Like Rodney King said, ‘Can’t we all get along?’ ”

--March 19: The NBA sues the players’ union (again). Turns out the players have put Jeff Kessler--the lawyer who led the drive to decertify the union--in charge of drafting the new labor contract. And--surprise!--Kessler and league officials can’t agree on anything.

--In Orlando, little-known, well-liked Anthony Bowie, intoxicated by a chance to get his first triple-double, calls time out in the final seconds of a rout of the Detroit Pistons to get his 10th assist. Embarrassed, Coach Brian Hill refuses to join the huddle.

Furious, Piston Coach Doug Collins tells his team just to watch. Lindsey Hunter actually sits down with a towel around his shoulders. Bowie gets the assist, the Pistons run off the floor with :00.8 left and the referees can’t get them back to finish.

Bowie tries to apologize to Collins, who tears away from him. Hill tries to apologize to Collins, who won’t see him. Hill delivers an apology at the postgame news conference, angering his own team. Magic players have been grumbling privately about Hill and each other. Maybe this is his way of saying he’s had it.

March 20: The league office fines Collins $5,000 for telling his players to lie down.

--In Salt Lake City, the 76ers’ Jerry Stackhouse, another of the league’s “attractive young stars,” flagrantly fouls Utah’s Jeff Hornacek, then pummels him to the floor.

Maxwell is also ejected and a heckler yells at Lucas, “Coach, you’ve got CBA players!”

“I agree with you,” Lucas tells him. “Now would you just leave me alone the rest of the night? Talk to your wife or something. I’m just trying to coach a basketball game. Get a life.”

--In Washington, Bullet rookie Rasheed Wallace continues his pursuit of technical foul leader Barkley, who has 25. Wallace gets his 20th and 21st, insuring his ejection by making a head-butting joke to--catch this one--Bernhardt. Two days later, Wallace breaks his thumb and is out for the season.

March 21: Stackhouse is suspended for two games.

--Cedric Ceballos goes boating, misses a game and is suspended by the Lakers.

Stern must be dreaming of sending the whole league to bed without its supper, but there are games to be played and money to be made. The spinmeister will just have to lay it off on the negative atmosphere pervading the press in the ‘90s and ask someone to get him three more aspirin.

WON’T YOU LET ME JOIN YOU ON A SEA CRUISE?

Come in, Commodore Ceballos, wherever you are.

Dismayed by a personal problem--apparently, insufficient minutes, shots and points--Ceballos jumped the Lakers, where, despite appearances, he has long been a fringe member.

In his brief Laker stint, he has proven himself a fine player and a legend in his own mind. Insiders say he holds himself apart from the team but when the camera lights came on, there’s Ceballos, all smiles and warmth.

Star-struck, he has made rap records and appeared opposite fuzzy creatures in PBS children’s shows. His voyage may not be a setback to the former career (“Coach gave me the hook/So I had to book”) but how will it go over in PTV Park?

Ceballos: “Well, Barney, Coach [Del] Harris broke my string of double-figure scoring games in Golden State and he barely used me against the Sonics.”

Barney: “Super-de-dooper, Ced! But didn’t the team win both games?”

Ceballos: “I can’t remember, but that’s not the point. I don’t know my role any more.”

Barney: “OK, boys and girls, remember, if you play in the NBA, your role is the most important thing. All together now, I love you, you love me, we’re a dysfunctional family.”

NAMES AND NUMBERS

Everyone’s a critic: 76er owner Harold Katz, who thought his fortune in the diet biz qualified him to be an NBA general manager, sold the team to Comcast, blaming “Katz bashing.” If it’s true, it was a civic blessing. After getting Moses Malone and winning a title in 1983, Katz traded the rights to Brad Daugherty for Roy Hinson and dealt Malone for Jeff Ruland. Ruland and Hinson played a total of 123 games in Philadelphia. The once-powerful 76ers haven’t been past the second round of the playoffs in 10 seasons, and their victory total has declined every year in the ‘90s.

You know you’re in trouble when this is the voice of reason: Barkley, on Rodman’s claim he gets away with everything: “I’m leading the league in technicals, how can I be getting away with anything? It’s better to be silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”