Juwan Howard's foul on Derek Anderson in Game 1 of the Mavs-Spurs semifinal series was not much worse than Jason Kidd's collision with Bobby Jackson at the end of Game 4 in the Suns-Kings first-round series. And it certainly doesn't rank with Kevin McHale's infamous clothesline job on Kurt Rambis in Game 4 of the 1984 Finals, back before flagrant fouls existed. Juwan's tears and personal apology, in fact, suggest he was affected far more than either Kidd or McHale.

Here's the important difference, along with why the league went far too easy on Juwan by limiting his punishment to ejection from that one game -- Jackson and Rambis walked away from their mishaps, while Anderson could be out for the rest of the postseason. I won't go so far as Terry Porter's suggestion that Howard be forced to sit for as long as Derek is out, but not suspending Howard for at least one game means the Mavs have gained a long-term advantage at a short-term expense -- and that just doesn't seem right.

What made the entire incident particularly distasteful was the outrage expressed by owner Mark Cuban over Howard's ejection while Anderson was still crumpled on the floor, the politicking by Don Nelson afterward, and Howard's assertion the next day that he'd make the same play again. All that is what really has the Spurs upset. Bone-headed posturing isn't a punishable offense, but considering the damage done to Derek and the Spurs, in this case it should be.

Anyone who saw the play live knows how brutal it looked, sounded and felt, and couldn't realistically argue with the referees assessing Howard a level-two flagrant foul. (Somehow, Cuban did.) Anyone who has seen the replays, meanwhile, would have to admit how foolish and reckless Howard was. (Nelson didn't.) And anyone who has played knows that getting a piece of the ball was no justification if it required going at Anderson in a way that assured he'd be knocked out of the air. (Except, evidently, Howard.) As Quinn Buckner noted minutes after the play, you pull that kind of stunt on the playground, you better be ready to fight or run (the latter option could be smart if your victim decides to go to his car and get his piece).

I'm guessing Anderson attacked the basket with a sidewinding tomahawk jam -- leaving himself completely vulnerable -- because he knew upon taking off that there was nobody who could get between him and the basket. I'm all for not giving up layups and dunks, especially in the playoffs. I understand that Anderson's dunk would've capped a monumental first-half-closing run and possibly buried the Mavs emotionally. But if you can't make a play without assuredly endangering somebody, you need to find another method of countering.

On some level, I'm sure my view is colored by the fact that I predicted the Spurs would win this year's championship, and this certainly diminishes their chances. Anderson was their best player at creating something out of nothing with the shot or game clock winding down, and they'll miss that. His absence may not be quite as damaging against either the Lakers or the 76ers, who don't have an abundance of perimeter firepower, but it could be devastating should the Spurs meet the Bucks in the finals.

But now, instead of talking to Anderson about going highlight-move-to-highlight-move with AI, my last conversation with him this year may have been a pre-game chat in the locker room on Saturday. Just before leaving, I asked how he was feeling, knowing that players routinely have nagging injuries this time of year that aren't reported. He smiled and said he was feeling the best he had all season. "Absolutely no problems," he said. Then, realizing how unusual that was, he leaned into his locker and knocked on wood.

Ric Bucher is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at ric.bucher@espnmag.com.