Ron Kantowski points out that the guy whose alleged actions could do the most harm in memory to the NBA just happens to be white

Monday, July 30, 2007 | 7:06 a.m.

Well, America, you can't blame this one on Allen Iverson.

Isn't it ironic that the person who may bring down the NBA is not some point guard with cornrows and tattoos or power forward with an attitude and a posse - read: black guy - but a referee with a Beaver Cleaver haircut and a country club membership - read: white guy?

This isn't to say that Rasheed Wallace's boorish behavior every time he is whistled for a ticky-tack foul is acceptable, although, quite frankly, it may cast it in a new light.

This is to say that what Tim Donaghy is accused of - providing inside information on NBA games to known gamblers and perhaps even affecting the outcome, or at least the point spreads, of games that he himself called - is worse.

Much worse.

A hundred times worse.

You don't have to be Mendy Rudolph or a card-carrying member of the Rainbow Coalition to make that call.

Anyway, I just thought I'd point that out, if for no other reason to remind that bad apples come from both sides of the tracks, in all shapes, sizes and, most important , colors. But you already knew that, right?

The same goes for soccer fans.

Last week, after I wrote a positive piece on the Monterrey versus Pumas Mexican soccer game at Sam Boyd Stadium, I received a handful of angry e-mails.

The ones that were signed chastised me for my love of corner kicks and inch-perfect tackles, as they say on the other side of the pond, and any person, place or thing that has been bent by David Beckham.

These, I can deal with. But if you don't believe soccer is a beautiful game, just ask Pele. Or Drew Carey.

The ones that weren't signed ridiculed me for my love of the 4-4-2 formation and the offside trap. At the beginning, at least. But the longer I read, the more venomous they became and it became clear: It wasn't the thought of soccer being played in their back yard that upset the anonymous ones so much. It was the thought of Mexicans in such close proximity to their front porch.

I couldn't help but recall my first weekend in Las Vegas , when I saw a very young Chris Rock do stand-up at The Dunes. Although I don't recall much about his routine, the stitches in my side tell me he must have killed.

Conversely, I don't recall the name of the Native American comic who followed him on stage. But I'll never forget the joke he told after admitting that just once, he'd love to turn on the Game of the Week to hear Curt Gowdy say " and the Kansas City Caucasians take the field."

He said when the guy next door discovered his new neighbor was a Native American, he knew right away their relationship wasn't going to rival the Lone Ranger and Tonto 's .

The comic said his ignorant neighbor made a racial slur and told him to go back where he came from.

"So I went in the house, got my stuff and moved it into his back yard."

Think about it, sports fans.

OK, now you can let the angry e-mail rip.