The day was picture perfect, and so was Augusta National. TigerWoods had just teed off in the final round of a Masters for the ages,and the country tuned in to watch the thrilling outcome amid thebrilliantly manicured greens of one of golf's most revered shrines.
About the same time, Al Lucas lay dying on the turf inside StaplesCenter in downtown Los Angeles.
Sports can bring us pleasure and joy, the kind we get from seeingWoods making a magical shot or watching Pedro Martinez pitch a nine-inning gem, as he did on Sunday in Atlanta.
It can also bring heartache and grief.
Woods had tears in his eyes Sunday night as he accepted the greenjacket and dedicated it to his seriously ill father. About 125 milesaway in Macon, Ga., Lucas' family surely was crying, too, over theloss of their son.
Lucas was 26 and trying to make a living in a game he loved whenhe was fatally injured during what appeared to be a routine kickoffreturn in the Arena Football League game between the Los AngelesAvengers and New York Dragons.
Before he died, the 6-foot-1, 300-pound lineman was just anotherathlete playing a fringe version of America's most popular sport.Though he was the top defensive player in Division I-AA his seniorseason and played for the Carolina Panthers in 2000-01, even the mostdedicated Avengers fan would be hard-pressed to tell you who he was.
Sadly, the few moments of fame every athlete craves cameposthumously.
His death allowed us to learn a little about his family - hisfather was a state representative in Georgia and his mother is onMacon's City Council.
We also found out something about Lucas himself from the guys whoplayed with him. They described him as a deeply religious, fun-loving father of a 1-year-old daughter who never missed the team'sweekly Bible study session.
'As great a player as he was, I think he was a better person,'Avengers coach Ed Hodgkiss said. 'He had a great ability and withthat ability came leadership.'
Lucas' teammates returned to practice the day after he diedbecause, well, that's what players usually do. They mourned amongthemselves, spoke about their loss and talked of winning in hishonor.
Those who knew Becky Zerlentes felt the same way.
She died last week in Denver when she was hit by a punch to thehead during a Golden Gloves competition.
Like Lucas' death, it didn't make much sense. She was wearingheadgear and didn't seem to be in any trouble when she took that hitin the third round, staggered forward and collapsed in the ring.
We got to know Zerlentes briefly, too, because she was the firstwoman boxer to die in a sanctioned event and because it was partly acase of life imitating art, as in the movie 'Million Dollar Baby.'
Zerlentes and Lucas died competing in sports that are inherentlyrisky. Football players are taught to throw their bodies at anopponent; boxers throw every punch with the intent to injure.
Every year a boxer or two somewhere dies from punches to the head;five died in Nevada alone in the past 20 years. Football players areeven more at risk, probably because there are so many more of them.
The National Center for Catastrophic Sport Injury Research, whichstudies these kind of things, reports that five football players diedlast year from on-field injuries, and another 10 died from football-related activities. Most were high school students.
Sports are supposed to be fun. They're supposed to be a diversionaway from the realities of everyday life, and most of the time theyare.
But sports can turn deadly as the events of the last few weeksshow.
Tragically, the families of Al Lucas and Becky Zerlentes know thatall too well.
Tim Dahlberg is a national sports columnist for The AssociatedPress. Write to him at tdahlberg@ap.org.
Copyright 2005 by Telegraph Herald, All rights Reserved.
