My underdog has to be a nice guy, fun to watch, a hard worker and unknown. Every summer I find one. He usually manifests himself by the end of the first week.

Jason Carter manifested himself by the end of the first practice.

Carter, 25, must have caught 10 passes Saturday morning, one of which appeared to be intended for Shaquille O'Neal or Yao Ming.

But Carter, 6-feet and 205 pounds, went up along the left sideline and plucked the ball out of the air. He made his quarterback look good.

“I made him look good,” says the quarterback, Brett Basanez. “We work on that all the time. I knew he'd catch it if I put it there.”

Where did you spend your summer vacation? Basanez and Carter spent theirs on the practice field behind Bank of America Stadium. They'd show up about 7:30 a.m. and leave about noon. They'd lift and sweat, and Carter did drills to enhance his speed.

“I heard there were questions about my ability to get behind the defense,” he says.

Carter played on Carolina's practice squad last season before he was called up to the varsity. He wants to stay. Throughout the off-season, Basanez threw passes and Carter caught them – except when Carter wanted to throw.

“I can throw it 70 yards,” he says before practice Sunday. “When I'm warmed up, I probably can throw it farther.”

Carter was once ranked the best run-throw quarterback in the entire state of Texas. As a senior at Caldwell High, he rushed for 599 yards and threw for 1,087.

Texas A&M was 30 miles away and he went there as a quarterback. He left as a receiver.

“He has a cannon,” says Carolina coach John Fox. “He laid down and from his back he threw the ball from one side of the field to the other.”

Fox also likes what Carter does on his feet.

“Every time I looked he was making a play,” Fox says about Saturday. “You pull for him. You can't help it.”

The Panthers, however, are as deep at receiver as they have ever been. What should they do with a player who can catch 10 passes one day and throw a ball from his back 33 yards the next? They should build their team around him.

OK, I get excited about my underdogs.

The Panthers are not as deep at quarterback as they are at receiver. Why not use Carter there? Brett Basanez, how good a passer is your friend?

“The more I see him throw, the more I'm glad he's a wide receiver,” says Basanez.

Yes, but is he an NFL quarterback?

“The more I see him throw, the more I'm really glad he's a wide receiver,” Basanez says.

But some positions are like tattoos. When Carter sees the quarterbacks gather, he thinks, “What if?”

Do you really care where you play?

“I just want the ball in my hands,” says Carter.

So you don't care?

“The quarterback has the ball in his hands all the time,” he says.

“That was weird,” Rucker says. “Going the same route, at the same time, and then I turned.”

Resplendent in a blue pinstriped suit, Rucker sits not far from the studios Friday afternoon at Panera Bread restaurant. Inside or out?

“Out,” says Rucker. “Let's enjoy this beautiful weather.”

It was great to see him smile. Rucker retired three months ago, slowed finally by injury and age. He cried at the news conference. The big man – 6-foot-5 and about 270 pounds – loved his sport and his teammates and the Carolina Panthers, the only NFL team for which he played.

This is the first summer since he was 10, the first summer in 23 years, he has no football team.

Rucker has others. He owns Vision Group Real Estate Company and is one of the founders of the Ruckus House, an ambitious child care facility. He is new to ESPNU.

He'll do a weekly Big 12 package and probably team for another show with former Panther and good friend Mike Minter.

“There's Peanut now,” says Rucker.

A white car slows and inside is the 5-10 Minter.

Peanut?

“I've been working on my little man jokes,” Rucker says.

You can't talk NFL-quality trash for nine seasons and suddenly stop.

Like his teammates, Rucker loved getting ready to play football more than he loved getting ready at camp. He won't miss the second practice in two-a-days. He might miss the first. He won't miss the dormitories. He will miss his teammates.

Which ones?

He names Jake Delhomme, Brad Hoover, Steve Smith, Muhsin Muhammad, Julius Peppers, Thomas Davis, Ken Lucas, Maake Kemoeatu and Jon Beason. Had we had talked longer he might have named all of them.

They were football players and friends and husbands and fathers and they shared a goal, which was to win games and put packets of ammonia beneath the noses of teammates who had fallen asleep while getting a massage.

“My stuff was light,” says Rucker.

He had to ensure the nostrils he challenged didn't belong to the wrong guy. If he jolted Delhomme or Hoover or the subtle and rarely suspected Nick Goings, they'd get him back and keep getting him back. They'd put a banana peel in his shoe, Icy Hot in his helmet and ice in his practice pants.

“That was their arena,” says Rucker.

The arena is gone. Rucker says he has never used ammonia on a Realtor.

“But my wife (Kristina) says I practice on her and the kids,” he says.

Your kids are 6, 4 1/2 and not quite 2. They aren't even tall enough to reach the shelf with the Icy Hot.

“No,” Rucker says smiling. “But they can come back pretty good.”

This one is essential. And it can't be predicated on money. If the Bobcats are willing to throw some around, we will know that Michael Jordan and new coach Larry Brown are in charge. If they aren't, we will know owner Bob Johnson is.

To attract fans, the Bobcats have to make a run at the playoffs next season. They can't do that unless they run. They can't run unless they start the fast break with a rebound. If Okafor leaves, who will start the fast break?

I'd love to see Sean May do it. I like May. He has superior basketball instincts and he returns telephone calls. But the Bobcats can't rely on May any more than the Carolina Panthers could rely on linebacker Dan Morgan. Some players are hurt most of the time.

Okafor, a restricted free agent, did not miss a game last season. He turned down a contract worth about $60million from the Bobcats nine months ago. That was superstar money, NBA All-Star money. Okafor is neither.

The Bobcats have two options. They can sign him and trade him, or they can sign him and play him. If they choose the latter, they have to hope he decides he wants to remain part of the organization or that a contender makes an offer before the trade deadline.

Otherwise, Okafor can walk. Elton Brand did. He left the Los Angeles Clippers to sign with Philadelphia. All the Clippers got was a goodbye.

If the Bobcats are able to trade Okafor for a comparable talent, do it. If Brown prefers long and lean athletes who can range far from the basket to guard an opponent, get one. If Brown has concluded his is not a playoff team, use Okafor as a tool to make it a team that is.

Okafor does not sell tickets. Nobody has ever become so mesmerized by one of his moves that they spilled a beer. He is a bright man, a reader and a traveler, and he is analytical. The N.C. motto is to be, rather than to seem. Okafor's is to think, rather than to react.

He reacted quickly enough to average 10.7 rebounds a game last season, however. That was sixth-best in the NBA. Twenty teams didn't have a player who averaged 10 or more rebounds.

Okafor had the misfortune to come into the league with Dwight Howard and the two forever will be linked. Howard is the dominant big man of his time.

Okafor is solid. I can't remember a single move he has put on during his four seasons in Charlotte. I also can't remember a single game in which he failed to go hard. He is there every night, and he brings his 10 rebounds with him.

Brown's first test as Charlotte coach was the NBA draft, and he nailed it. Be interesting to see if he gets to ace his second.

If you like enormous upsets, you'd love the story.

If you like old guys who unexpectedly summon the qualities that long ago made them special, you'd love the story.

If you're a golf fan who craves life after Tiger, you'd love the story.

If you're a retailer that sells Shark apparel, and every clothing store in Charlotte seems to, you‘d love the story.

The only loser would be the sport itself.

Every golfer I know considers the game an athletic endeavor. Yes, they might ride a cart for 18 holes. And because the cart includes a cooler full of beverages, they might burn fewer calories than they consume.

So what? They still believe their sport no less a test of athleticism than tennis or basketball.

But if a 53-year-old part-time golfer on his honeymoon can win a major tournament, how athletic can it be?

I'm 56. It's not my fault. I blame my parents.

I work out more, and I think more effectively, than I ever have. But when I play football with my kids, I'm the everlasting quarterback because I can't cover either of them.

The last time I played pick-up basketball was with a group of noontime regulars at the YMCA in Lexington, Ky. I looked at the guys and thought, “I'm going to run you into the ground.” While I was running them into the ground, they were making actual baskets.

So I quit fooling around. In the second game I would combine what was left of my athleticism with my alleged superior conditioning and impose myself. Man, did I go after them.

If there were a box score it would have read: Seven field goals attempted, two made; one assist and six turnovers; three rebounds and 16 personal fouls.

I used to make my teammates better. Now I made my opponents better. I respect the game too much to demean it, so, except for games with my kids, I quit.

When you hit a certain age, you can't do what you once did. And when you find something you can do – run, lift, get on your bike and ride hard even though, unlike the Tour de France cyclists, you're drug-free – you need much more time to recover.

If your sport demands quickness, strength and raw athleticism, age will get you. The only exceptions I'm aware of are Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds.

Norman led by two strokes when Sunday's final round began. Unfortunately, he bogeyed the first three holes, finished nine over par and tied for third.

I enjoyed watching him. I also enjoyed seeing his new wife, former tennis star Chris Evert.

Like her husband, Evert is 53. Wonder how she would have done at Wimbledon.

I can wait. When training camp opens, summer ends. And I like summer the way a kid does.

But when I get to Spartanburg, where the Carolina Panthers train, there are two things I anticipate.

The first is a certain Asian restaurant that because it's small and can't accommodate a crowd, shall remain nameless. No matter what you eat, the bill is $8.10, and that includes a beer or glass of wine.

Let's say that, to combat the relentless S.C. heat, you add two more beers or glasses of wine. The bill will go up to $11.12. It never exceeds $12.79. And former Panthers lineman Kris Jenkins used to eat here.

The second is Carolina's first practice, which is at 9:10 a.m. a week from today.

I think the Panthers have a chance to be one of the NFL's best. And I almost never write or say that or even think that.

They have markedly improved their offensive line, receivers and running backs.

Remember how coach John Fox used Stephen Davis? Davis hammered and hammered and defenders had to stop him, which set up the passing game and opportunities for change-up back DeShaun Foster, who Panthers fans then liked.

Davis was 6-foot, 230 pounds. First-round pick Jonathan Stewart is 5-10, 235. Every coach improves when he has a runner who can pick up 3 or 4 yards and, with a juke or hard shoulder, 15 or 20 more. Fox improves more than most.

With his receivers, and with DeAngelo Williams in the Foster role, the offense will be considerably less dull and considerably more effective.

Alas – and every team, even New England, has an alas – there are two potential flaws. They are Jake Delhomme's arm and Julius Peppers' brain.

Delhomme, 33, had major surgery on his right elbow. He looked good in practice last month. Everybody said so.

But until there are defenders hurtling at him and he has to throw hard and accurately and on time, there's no way to know what the impact will be. Delhomme is the most essential Panther. Steve Smith is the best, but he has three solid receivers to complement him.

Delhomme has Brett Basanez, who missed last season with a wrist injury, and Matt Moore. Moore was effective. But my sense is when he was in the huddle, the Panthers disdained the playbook and used a playpamphlet. But he is only 23. Maybe he will emerge as Delhomme's successor.

Maybe Peppers, 28, will emerge as Julius Peppers. As recently as 2006, he was as good as any defensive player in the league. Last season he was harmless. Nobody I've talked to – no teammate, coach or executive – knows why.

But listen. Nobody, except for adults who spend their weekends on message boards, ought to be cynical in mid-July. Camp is great, magical restaurants abound and if summer has to end, it might as well end in Spartanburg.

So when he wept at his most recent farewell news conference 41/2 months ago, I felt for him. He was the quarterback we all would like to be. He plays as if he makes up pass patterns in the stadium dirt. Who loved football more?

It had to be tough to call his coach, Mike McCarthy, to say that he was retiring. It had to be tough for McCarthy to hear the words. Even though Favre will turn 39 this season, he was his team's best chance to win.

“I know I can play but I don't think I want to,” Favre said at the March6 news conference. “It's been a great career for me but it's over.”

He said he could play on Sunday. But Sunday is the bonus. The hard work comes before the season and during the week, the repetition numbing and the preparation endless. That's what Favre said he no longer could do.

The Packers made Aaron Rodgers the first quarterback of the post-Favre Era. And then Favre began to hint that the Era had not quite ended. He wanted to play. When the Packers didn't react the way he anticipated, with a job offer and a hug, he became petulant.

The Packers pushed him to retire, he said. He hadn't made up his mind. If they didn't want him as the starter, fine, he'd play for somebody else.

Green Bay is a city without frills, and so, until recently, was Favre. You didn't see him cavorting with models or flexing his cheekbones in cologne advertisements. Green Bay has the best professional football fans I have ever experienced and they loved Favre and Favre loved them back.

And suddenly he and his agent, James “Bus” Cook, were throwing the Packers under the bus and forcing fans to take sides. Favre says Green Bay didn't sign the receiver he wanted and the coach he wanted and didn't retain the offensive linemen he wanted.

The Packers did, however, advance to last season's NFC Championship Game.

I love to watch Favre. But he told his team, repeatedly, that he was finished. He told the world. As good as he is, the sport goes on without him. The Packers took two quarterbacks in the draft.

Can you imagine the outcry if an athlete such as Kobe Bryant did what Favre has?

There would be a national outcry. One more example of NBA stars and their sense of entitlement, we'd say.

To Favre's credit, he told Fox News' Greta Van Susteren he won't show up at training camp.

I found the interview educational. I had thought Van Susteren was Nancy Grace.

If Favre needs to play, the Packers should sign him and trade him. It won't be to Carolina. The Panthers will play at Lambeau Field on Nov.30 and no way would the Packers give Favre an opportunity to embarrass them on their legendary turf.

Until he finds another team, Favre will have to be content with embarrassing himself.

There must be a simpler way to say that.

“I won the biggest race of my life,” Herbert says.

His reaction time – .018 off the line – was phenomenal. More phenomenal was the presence of his 10-year-old daughter, Jessie. It was her first race of the season. Usually reserved, she sprinted to her dad, and both were overcome with emotion. In Herbert's arms was Jessie and in his eyes were tears.

He adds: “I could just hear my son James saying, ‘Yeah, Dad!'

Herbert has dedicated the season to James and his brother, Jon, calling it the “For My Boys” Tour.

Jon, 17, and James, 12, woke up hungry on Jan.26, a Saturday, and decided to grab breakfast at McDonald's.

Many of us feel invincible when we're young because we have yet to be shown that we're not. Jon was driving about 85 mph on Jetton Road, which has a speed limit of 45. He lost control of his little Mazda turbo, spun into traffic moving in the other direction and crashed into the front end of a Hummer. The skid marks still are there. Herbert drives past them on the way to Doug Herbert Racing in Lincolnton.

Herbert, 40, was in Phoenix for preseason testing that morning. At about 7:30 a.m., Mountain time, his cell phone rang. It was his ex-wife, Sonnie. She said there had been an accident and both boys were dead.

“No, that can't be,” Herbert said.

She was hysterical, he said, and he hoped she was wrong. He called a friend and asked him to check. The friend called back 15 minutes later. Sonnie wasn't wrong.

“He was going too fast,” Herbert said of Jon. “In his mind he was in control. We had talked about speed. I said if you want to drive fast, come to the drag strip in Charlotte or Shelby or Mooresville and do what I do.”

After a death, racing folks almost always say that it was his time.

“Destiny, I don't believe that,” says Herbert. “It wasn't supposed to happen. It was an accident, nothing else.”

A big man at 6-foot-4, Herbert sits behind the desk in his Lincolnton office. A minute into our conversation, he begins to cry. I tell him I had debated calling and ask if I should leave.

“I like to tell their story,” Herbert said. “I want to tell people about my boys and my daughter and how great they are. They're kind kids. They care about other kids. They want to help.”

Herbert offers an example, and smiles as he tells it.

Mario Andretti, one of the greatest drivers of all time, brings his driving school to Lowe's Motor Speedway and Herbert asks James if he wants to go to the track. James, who lives with Herbert, wants to sleep.

But Herbert drags him. Herbert is invited to drive one of the sleek Indy cars and, when he finishes, Mario asks Herbert if James would like a ride. Herbert figures his son will be thrilled.

“I don't want to ride with him,” James said. “I want to ride with you.”

Herbert is incredulous. “You don't want to ride with me,” he says. “You want to ride with Mario.”

“But he's old,” James said.

“James, you know how when we're at the go-kart track, and I'll say, ‘Whooo, Mario?'”

“Yeah,” said James.

“That's Mario.”

James gets a 180 mph ride and an autographed picture. James has a birthday party, and the other kids see James and Mario and the car and tell him how cool the experience must have been. Herbert calls his son aside.

“Didn't you tell them,” he asks.

“None of them get to do that,” James says. “I didn't want to hurt their feelings.”

A parent should not outlive a child. Alas, many do, and a disproportionate number are in racing. Among them are Rick Hendrick, Kyle Petty and Barry Dodson, who all called Herbert after the tragedy. Bobby Allison met him for lunch.

Somebody or something reminds Herbert of his sons every day. On Thursday a customer, a stranger, walks into Herbert's 100,000-square foot shop, offers his condolences and asks for an autograph. George Gillette of Gillette-Evernham Motorsports sends a gift basket. The screen saver on the computer on Herbert's desk shows him with his kids, everybody happy, in front of a Christmas tree.

Jon's motorcycles, KTM-85s, and Herbert's Yamaha 450, were stored in a trailer out back. Jon raced motocross, and Herbert was his crew chief and coach.

Somebody broke into the trailer and stole the bikes. Herbert knew he should have moved them into the shop. But he couldn't go inside. To see Jon's bikes was to see Jon.

Yet, Herbert does not run from their memory. He clings to it. Through their death he wants others to live.

Herbert spends hours speaking at SouthLake Christian Academy in Huntersville, where Jon and James went and Jessie goes. He has spoken to more than 1,000 students in schools private and public.

Out of those discussions and Herbert's grief has come a program that explains to teens and parents the consequences of unsafe driving. He asked Jon's classmates to come up with a name.

The next time Herbert visited the class a student said, BRAKES.

“That's good,” said Herbert.

“It stands for Be Responsible and Keep Everyone Safe,” the student said.

“That's awesome,” said Herbert.

(For more information, go to putonthebrakes.com.)

The boys had visited Herbert's father, Chet, in California last summer. Chet, 80, was devastated when he learned of their deaths.

Herbert needed a project that he and his father, a former drag racer, could lose themselves in. Let's build a car and set a land speed record at the Bonneville (Utah) Salt Flats, he suggested.

Chet, who is designing the car, now wakes up with a purpose. The target date for the record run is August 2009. Each member on the team will bring his father.

Thinking about Chet, and about BRAKES, Herbert says, “There's been a lot of good. The only bad is they're not here anymore.”

Herbert briefly considered getting out of racing. But when he slips into the cockpit of his 30-foot long dragster, and the engine is engaged, he finds peace. For those two minutes, it's not about the past. It's about what comes next.

Before the victory in Ohio last week, his first of the season, Herbert repeated the same words.

“Be a machine, Doug, be a machine. Machines don't make mistakes. Humans do.”

Favre retired with a great deal of fanfare and emotion three months ago. He had finally flung his last pass into triple coverage. After 17 seasons, he was finished with football forever or until July27, when the Green Bay Packers report to camp.

There were indications this week that Favre wants to play one more season. This is an annual summer tradition for the quarterback – will he play or will he go?

Maybe he is an emotional weakling who needs the Packers to show the world how badly they want him. More likely, he is a competitor who wants one last chance to win the big game.

If you were Favre, would you quit?

Muhammad Ali is the greatest boxer of all time and he couldn't walk away. Michael Jordan probably is the greatest basketball player of all time and he couldn't walk away. Roger Clemens was a dominant pitcher and he couldn't walk away. What good are performance-enhancing drugs when there's no performance?

Yet, we want our athletes to retire young. We want to preserve their legacies behind thick glass where they won't be tainted.

Favre, however, is only 38. At 38, most of us are closer to the beginning of our career than we are to the end.

Carolina Panther Mike Minter retired during training camp last summer and teammate Mike Rucker retired in April. These are tough guys who are responsible for some of the biggest hits in Carolina history.

But at their final news conferences they each became so emotional they couldn't speak. There's no crying on the field, but tears flow when a player is forced to leave the game he loves. They were hurt. Favre is healthy.

Athletes will tell you that they miss the life as much as they miss the games. They share a dormitory at camp, sit in meeting rooms, knock each other around in practice and knock opponents around during games.

They spend more time with each other than with their families. They know what they go through. They get each other's jokes. Theirs is a brotherhood. When they leave the sport, friendships endure. But because they no longer are on the inside, the brotherhood ends.

The job becomes more than what they do. It's who they are.

Favre was never the quarterback that Tom Brady and Peyton Manning are. His passes were never as pretty, his decisions never as clinical. He was reckless. And every time he got knocked down, he got back up. A lot of us feel that if we could have played quarterback, we would have played like he does.

If we had the opportunity to play another season, we would. I suspect Favre will, too.

Let's say, because this is the slowest month of the sports year and we need stuff to put into the newspaper, PFT is correct and Favre wants to end his three-month retirement and play for the Panthers.

First, he has to compete for the job. That's not a joke.

This offense belongs to Jake Delhomme. We don't know if Delhomme will come all the way back from elbow surgery. What we do know is he's entitled to try. His teammates believe in him much more than fans do.

If Delhomme says, in the huddle, we're going to do this, we're going to pick up this first down and the next one and we're going to score, his teammates believe. The Panthers can't promise Favre that he'll be the starter.

Some of you think that, with Favre, the Panthers will be unbeatable. Favre is one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time while Delhomme is the greatest Carolina quarterback of all time. But the Panthers wouldn't demote Jake simply because Favre was interested.

Spartanburg would become a lot more interesting, though. Be a lot more fun to watch Delhomme versus Favre than Delhomme versus Chris Weinke.

If I'm Jerry Richardson, and Favre wants to play for me, I give him the opportunity. We see Jake throw into triple coverage. Be interesting to see Favre do the same. Perhaps it's a Mississippi-Louisiana thing. The idea of Steve Smith going deep and Favre going to him is intriguing.

Love to write more about Brett, but I need to check PFT. I hear that Barry Sanders also might come back and that he's a huge fan of Carolina tackle Jordan Gross and of zone blocking.

Every year I offer the Bobcats and Carolina Panthers free and unsolicited draft advice which they consistently ignore. Still, if I were to leave the Charlotte Observer unexpectedly, I could see myself in player personnel for the Bobcats or Panthers.

Make that one cream and one sugar Carolina general manager Marty Hurney. I'm kidding. I drink my coffee black.

I wrote Thursday that the Bobcats should take Texas point guard D.J. Augustin. Few mock drafts had him going as high. I saw 34 and only six had Augustin going nine or higher.

This is why they're called mock drafts. Larry Brown, Michael Jordan and I mock them.

The Bobcats need a point guard.

Point guard is the sport's essential position. The right one takes all the parts, power forwards and centers, the shooting guards and wings, and links them and leads them. Teammates work harder to get open because they know they'll be rewarded with the ball.

Augustin is the right point guard. He'd rather run an offense than shoot, rather pass than shoot, would rather penetrate than shoot. Yet he can shoot effectively off the dribble and hit those soft floaters in the lane.

He knows his role. Pass-first point guards are rare in college and the NBA. The Bobcats had an opportunity to grab one, so they did.

The criticism of Augustin, who is about 6-0 and 180 pounds, is that he is slight. The rip has been repeated so often that it might as well be part of his name: Slight D.J. Augustin.

Chris Paul was slight when he came into the league, Allan Iverson has remained slight and slight Rajon Rondo led Boston to the NBA championship.

It's not about width. It's about taking this team where it needs to go. It needs to go from peripheral to important. It needs to go relentlessly to the hoop.

The Bobcats have a point guard, Raymond Felton, who turned 24 Thursday.

Hey, Bobcats, what did you give Raymond, a young rich guy who has everything, for his birthday?

Competition.

Felton might remain Charlotte's point guard. Last season he was moved from point to shooting guard to shooting guard to point.

Perhaps he can run this team. If so, Augustin is a tremendous asset off the bench. If he can't, Augustin will.

Augustin is not the player the Bobcats were supposed to take. They were supposed to take Stanford center Brook Lopez or Arizona guard Jerryd Bayless.

But they figured they could draft a big man with their second first-round pick, and at No.20 they were able to snare center Alexis Ajinca, one of the top10 big men in all of France. Bayless is an athletic shooting guard/point guard. So is Felton.

No matter how you make your living, you can't succeed unless you believe. You have to believe that you know more than the other guy. You can't make the safe pick. You have to make the right pick.

The Bobcats did.