Bad Situation Made Worse Blades Mess Another Case Of Firearms Escalating Dispute

Only Brian Blades knows what happened in his condominium in Plantation, Fla., early Wednesday morning.

Only he knows why the gun went off and how his cousin Charles Blades died.

Few of us can imagine the kind of horror he experienced, hearing the gunshot, seeing the blood, watching his cousin die.

All we know is another person is dead because of a gunshot wound. Bullets have claimed another body. Another athlete is involved in another incident with a firearm. Another young man is dead before he truly had a chance to live.

Another Seahawk has been involved in another tragedy. The Seahawks might have lost their best wide receiver. At best, he almost certainly will miss the opening of training camp.

This star-crossed franchise has been poisoned by bad luck and bad judgment:

Coach Dennis Erickson’s arrest for drunken driving. Running back Lamar Smith’s impending trial on vehicular-assault charges. Lineman Mike Frier’s paralysis from that accident.

The first stories written after the shooting at Blades’ condominium chronicled several other off-the-field problems he has had.

There is, however, another side to Blades.

I’ve seen his compassion with homeless children at a school called First Place that is designed to continue the educational process for grade-school kids living in shelters.

When he visits, no television cameras follow him. His trips aren’t part of a shoe promotion. No press release is sent to herald his kindheartedness.

Blades visits First Place every Christmas season on a Tuesday, his only day off. He brings teammates. He brings gifts. He makes connections with maybe a dozen kids who aren’t easy to reach. They talk about the visit for weeks after he leaves.

His hardscrabble roots are in a poor, ramshackle part of South Florida. This visit is a way for him to share his good fortune, while remembering his hard beginnings.

If there is a sinister side to Blades, I’ve never seen it.

He always is accommodating in the locker room. Win or lose, he doesn’t hide. He doesn’t turn his back. He is honest. He doesn’t mumble a mouthful of cliches.

Blades made himself into a football player, carving precise pass patterns in the wet-hot summer days of his youth. He became a Pro Bowler by working harder, being smarter and making up with grit what he lacked in speed.

Blades is fearless on a football field, focused on catching every ball, even the late arrivals over the middle that float high, forcing him to reach and expose his ribs to the mean-spirited helmet aimed to cause pain. He can take a hit.

But today Blades is hurting like he’s never hurt before. There is no medication for this grief. There is no real escape from the memory of that night.

In these next few days he probably will be asked the most difficult questions of his life. He will be made to replay the gruesome seconds before his cousin’s death. He will be asked the same questions over and over again.

Only Blades has the answers. Police say only he was in the room with his cousin when the shooting happened.

One thing is certain. Charles Blades still would be alive if there had been no gun in the house.

Too many athletes today are packing. It’s a dangerous world out there and they believe they need protection.

Ask Toronto Blue Jay Roberto Alomar. A woman entered the SkyDome Hotel last weekend with a loaded gun, threatening to kill him.

But owning a gun isn’t protection. Owning a gun is like pulling the pin on a grenade. It can turn a benign situation lethal.

Houston tackle Jeff Alm committed suicide two years ago, after being involved in a traffic accident. If there hadn’t been a firearm in his truck, he might still be playing with the Oilers.

Charles Blades’ death should be a reminder to other athletes. Get rid of the guns. They won’t protect you and they may get you killed.

Or maybe you’ll come home from an evening of fun and in one squeeze of the trigger a family member will be killed and your life will be inextricably changed.