War dominates the conversation these days. So I thought this might be a good time to talk about honor and dishonor, good and bad, black and white, heroes and villains. It all goes hand-in-hand with a feature I'm writing on Terrell Owens. Bear with me -- this is the first in a three-part series.

You may think the moral fabric of sports is tattered and frayed. But there really is a code of ethics that binds athletes and governs competition.

For me, no athlete or man embodied that competitive integrity more than the late Arthur Ashe. In his memoir, Days of Grace, Ashe recounted a crucial moment in a match against Stan Smith. Smith had won a point Ashe felt he didn't deserve.

"I was sure the ball had bounced twice before he hit it," writes Ashe. So he called Smith to the net and asked him if he'd really made the shot. When Smith answered that he did, Ashe conceded the point. Honorable.

After the Rams beat the Jets last Sunday, my thoughts turned to ethics and such. With a 31-7 lead late in the third quarter, Rams coach Mike Martz elected to go for an onside kick. To me, he'd fractured a different code. There's a time to go for the jugular, and a time to step away from your strangled opponent. It felt like Martz hovered over his prey longer than necessary. Dishonorable.

I couldn't wait to hear Martz's explanation.

"There was a lot of time left," said Martz. Then, obviously sensitive to the suspicious glare of the TV lights, he quickly added: "Hey, these guys came back from 17-0 against Miami last week, and we weren't taking any chances."

Whatever.

I was annoyed by the incident. And making things worse, Jets coach Herman Edwards seemed unruffled. Seems to me he should have been personally offended by the code violation. But when the two coaches met at midfield after the game, Edwards shook Martz's hand -- he even gave the Rams coach a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I don't get into what you should do and what you shouldn't do," is all he said.

Whatever.

Agitated, with notions of a stupid honor system clouding my head, I went into the Rams locker room, where I ran into Rams receiver Ricky Proehl.

We'd met before.

It was in October of '94, when I played for the Redskins and Proehl for the Arizona Cardinals. With a few seconds left, we led 16-9, and the Cardinals were on our 5-yard line. Proehl's route took him to the back of the end zone, where I shadowed him.

When his eyes got as big as saucers, I knew Steve Beuerlein's pass was headed his way. We went skyward, each getting a share of the ball. But as my feet hit terra firma, I wrestled the ball away, downed it and then sprinted to the sideline.

The ref signaled interception, but it was close. Too close. He was overruled by the back judge, and Proehl was awarded the touchdown. We went to overtime, where we lost 19-16.

After the game, I sidled up to Proehl as he walked off the field. "Come on Ricky, it's just you and me talking now," I said. "Did you really think you caught that ball?"

"Yes," he said. "I really did."

Not satisfied, I persisted. "Come on," I told him. "The game is over, so even if you admit to me that it was a pick, nothing will change."

He smiled, and looked me squarely in the eye. "Yes, I'm totally positive I caught the ball," he said.

Honorable.

Last Sunday, I approached Ricky Proehl, introduced myself, and repeated the question one last time. He laughed when he gave me his answer. He even reenacted the play.

"Yes, I caught that ball!" he said.

I can respect that. But I still think it was a pick.

Next: Terrell Owens, and the murky edges of black and white.

Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, writes football for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.