In one of your earlier columns this season you rated Deron Williams higher than Chris Paul. In the long run, which of the two do you think has the potential to have the better career? — Albert Tolents, Pampanga, Philippines

Williams, and here's why:

He's much stronger than CP3 and should therefore be more resistant to serious injuries.

Mourning always played with incredible intensity, especially when rebounds were up for grabs. In his prime he could run the floor and look for deep post catches in the lane. When setting screens, he liked to slip his screen and cut to the hoop.

Never an adequate jump shooter (or free-throw shooter), Mourning scored most of his points in or near the paint. He wanted to turn, face, and go either way. With his back to the basket on the right box, he looked for a left-handed jump hook or a turnaround jumper over his right shoulder. On the left block, Mourning favored a right-handed jump hook, and the same turnaround jumper over his right shoulder. All of his interior moves were prefaced by pump fakes.

On post-up defense, he always bodied up and tried to force his man away from the hoop. And he never took a game off.

What were Mourning's shortcomings?

He wanted to block every shot that he could see. Because of this eagerness, smart teams could lure him away from the basket and out of position

The biggest knock against Mourning was his career-long inability to be successful in clutch situations. In the long run, this flaw is what characterizes his career.

If he does manage to be admitted into the Hall of Fame, it will only be because the selection committee is overly partial to players, coaches and administrators from the Eastern section of the basketball universe.

How do you think Kobe would defend Kobe? — David Wells, Lovetron

In a variety of ways:

You've revealed a lot of yourself as a player and a coach. But you've never discussed how you coped with not being able to play anymore when your body could no longer take the pounding. At 60, I've just reached this point and I'm struggling with the loss.— Jeff Goodman, Bronx

First of all, if you're not popping pain pills, using crutches or in a wheelchair, congratulations for lasting so long!

I had to hang 'em up when I was 56 and the stirred-up arthritis in my left hip kept me awake until the wee hours after I had played.

I missed the game for only a few days, during which time I was sorely tempted to return to action. Then I realized that I no longer had to "get up" for the competition twice every week. And since, in my declining seasons, my primary advantages were my size, my strength and my savvy (as opposed to my limited skills), I needed to rouse myself into a belligerent state just to keep from totally embarrassing myself.

After that, every time I heard a ball bounce or a sneaker squeal, and every time I saw my old buddies still going at it — I remembered my painful, sleepless nights, and my killer on-court persona and I was OK.

I was also reminded that one of my best friends ever, Eddie Mast, had died of a heart attack at age 46 while he was playing. So, the bottom line was that I was happy to have survived and to have survived for so long.

If your competitive chops are still on fire, find some out outlet. Bicycling. Swimming. Tennis (ugh!). Senior baseball or softball. Bocci.

For me, I do the Nautilus circuit twice a week at a nearby YMCA, and ride 14 miles on a stationery bike three times per week. The bonus is that I can read while I'm on the bike — something I could never do while I was hooping.

Accept it, man. It's part of the cycle. And enjoy not having your entire weekend spoiled when you stunk up the court on Friday.

Good luck.