Spring Loaded

David Stern,

NBA Commissioner

New York, New York

Dear David:

I know you’d never admit it in public, but this is clearly not the NBA Finals you dreamed of.

It’s not Lakers vs. Celtics once again.

It’s not Kobe vs. LeBron for the first time.

But that doesn’t mean the Lakers and Magic can’t put on a show that grips the basketball nation and keeps the ratings respectable if not record-shattering.

It’s still Kobe in search of redemption, in search of bragging rights to a title procured without Shaq, in search of another rung on his life-long quest to top MJ.

It’s still the power of Dwight Howard against the finesse of Pau Gasol. Oh yeah, and Andrew Bynum might show up too, but don’t bet on it. (Sorry about that, David. I know you don’t even like to see your name in the same sentence as the word bet.)

It’s still an historic franchise looking to add to a near-record number of banners against one with no championship banners and little history worth remembering.

It’s East against West, Disneyland against Disney World, the team of Magic Johnson against a team with plenty of magic of its own.

It could be a great series. But you control that, David. You really do.

So do us all a favor and blow the whistle on your refs. Tell them to let these guys play. Remind them again that nobody -- but relatives, and we’re not even sure about them -- pays to see them run their zebra-striped bodies up and down the court.

Net-swishing three-pointers by Kobe? Yes.

Rim-rattling dunks by Howard? Yes.

Gravity-defying steals by Trevor Ariza? Yes.

Mind-numbing trips to the foul line? No.

An enthusiasm-smothering clampdown on trash talking? Please no.

A bewildering series of technicals, flagrant fouls, ejections and suspensions? Enough already.

You have a great game, David. Why throw a blanket over it? If you were in charge of the Kentucky Derby, would you tie plows behind all the horses?

That’s the equivalent of what you’ve done here by creating ridiculous guidelines for your officials. Fouls are called that are sometimes imperceptible on replays. Floppers get rewarded for going into a swan dive every time an opposing player breathes on them.

Trash talking is a technical. That’s right, trash talking.

And hard fouls all seem to be flagrant fouls. There are flagrant 1s and flagrant 2s.

Is a torture category next?

It’s ruining the game, David. Kobe gets in Shane Battier’s face after scoring and Kobe gets a technical. J. R. Smith celebrates. Another technical. Ron Artest shoves Gasol to prevent a sure basket and Artest gets a flagrant 2.

That was lowered to a flagrant 1 after the league office had a day to reconsider.

That’s another silly trend. We must now wait 24 hours for league disciplinarian Stu Jackson to hand down a ruling, like an appeals court, before we can be sure what the final verdict is on any call.

I guess you don’t trust the refs on the floor, David. But if they’re so incompetent, why not do away with them altogether and just have Jackson call the game from his office?

It’s been four seasons since Artest jumped into the stands in Detroit to fight with fans, but it seems like the fear still lingers that every game is one hard foul away from a riot.

If your current clampdown had been in effect in the 1984 Finals, Kevin McHale’s clothesline tackle of Kurt Rambis would have at least earned McHale a lifetime suspension, if not prison time.

And Larry Bird and Michael Cooper, two of the great trash talkers of their era, would have been stuck on the bench talking to themselves.

The league was entertaining and fun back then, two words you seem determined to expunge from the NBA vocabulary.

Talk to old-timers. They just shake their heads at the newer, stricter NBA.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. If you go for the ball, contact should be no worse than a foul. If you go for the head, that’s flagrant. If you want to trash talk or pound your chest or throw chalk in the air, that’s entertainment.

You’ve got a great product to sell, David. Take the wrapping off and put it on the shelf as is.

Believe me, the customers will be standing in line.

On the set of Wednesday night’s TNT postgame show, Charles Barkley ducked out of sight while a discussion of the just-completed L.A. Lakers-Houston Rockets playoff game was going on.

What are you looking for? asked co-host Ernie Johnson.

“Andrew Bynum,” replied Barkley.

Good luck.

Oh there’s no question where Bynum is. It’s not hard to find a 7-foot, 285-pounder. He’s sitting on the Laker bench, moving further and further down the pine. At this point, he’s about to slip past Kurt Rambis in the rotation. It’s been 14 years since Kurt last played, but he could at least still put his body between an opposing player and the basket without automatically triggering a referee’s whistle.

Bynum, it seems, cannot. In this postseason, he has become a foul machine, hacking and banging and stumbling his way through a thicket of Rocket and Utah Jazz players. In the Lakers’ first-round playoff series against the Jazz, Bynum had 16 fouls in 77 minutes. Against the Rockets, he had three in 15 minutes in Game 1 and picked up his pace with three more in only eight minutes in Game 2.

But it’s more than just fouls. It’s not Barkley in search of Bynum so much as it is Bynum in search of his game. He’s totally lost out there.

Bynum keeps fouling because he’s trying to make up for the fact that he’s slow to react on defense.

And he’s no better on offense. When the ball goes into Pau Gasol, the offense clicks, the cutting and rolling functioning as smoothly as Tex Winter designed it. When the ball goes into Bynum, forget it.

The worst part is Bynum’s attitude. When he’s called for a foul or otherwise screws up, he pouts, his shoulders drooping, his usefulness to the team lost.

I know, I know. He’s:

-- still young.

-- still inexperienced.

-- still rusty from missing 32 games because of a knee injury.

-- still not fully recovered from the injury.

-- still bothered by the knee brace he is forced to wear.

That may all be true, but it doesn’t answer the still lingering question of when -- and even if -- he will reach his potential. There’s no question the potential is there. He’s not Shaquille O’Neal, but he’s not Benoit Benjamin, either.

The one-word answer to all his problems is: Maturity.

Not only is this a 21-year-old who didn’t go to college, but he played sparingly in high school. When Kobe Bryant made the leap from preps to the pros, he was out of control. Jermaine O’Neal, who also skipped college, struggled with the culture shock as well. By his fourth season in the NBA, he was playing only around 12 minutes a game, averaging 3.9 points and 3.3 rebounds.

That’s what made LeBron James so unique. He hit the NBA hardwood out of high school running and has never looked back.

The level of Bynum’s maturity, or lack thereof, was clearly demonstrated one day in his rookie season when he disappeared -- there’s that word again -- from practice at the team’s El Segundo training facility.

No one could find him. Sound familiar?

Coach Phil Jackson dispatched Rambis to look for the wayward center.

Rambis indeed found Bynum, sitting in the trainer’s room, eating sugar-soaked cold cereal.

What are you doing, Rambis asked. You just can’t leave practice without telling anyone.

I don’t have any energy and I thought this might give me some, Bynum replied.

It turned out Bynum, on his own for the first time 3,000 miles from home, was living on fast food and depleting his body.

Although he’d never admit it, nobody on the Lakers could be more frustrated than Bynum’s mentor, Hall of Fame center Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He has constantly been by Bynum’s side, tutoring him in all aspects of the game.

Abdul-Jabbar himself knows about growing up fast. No pun intended. He was already in the national spotlight as a New York high school star named Lew Alcindor. By the time he was Bynum’s age, Abdul-Jabbar was leading UCLA to its third consecutive NCAA title.

Bynum says he has the ultimate respect for Abdul-Jabbar. How does he show it? When the NBA’s all-time leading scorer first started working with Bynum, Bynum stiffed him, showing up late for a practice session.

Nobody is suggesting Bynum doesn’t have a future with the Lakers. Look how long it has taken Lamar Odom to realize his potential. And there are still nights when he is lost out there.

Nobody is saying Bynum won’t be a productive center in the NBA.

The agonizing question is: When?