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Much can be learned from a man's dreams. The sun around which the Cavaliers orbit, LeBron James, wanted to be like Mike, and so wears Michael Jordan's No. 23.

The previous generation wanted to hover like Dr. J.

After a turnover, point guards in the generation before that had to answer the taunting question, "Who do you think you are? Cousy?"

Ben Wallace, "Big Ben," patrolman of the paint, doom-toller for the unwary, wanted to be . . . who?

"As a kid, I wanted to be L.T.," he said.

That would be of the NFL's L.T.

The connection is evident. Lawrence Taylor, a Pro Football Hall of Famer at outside linebacker, brought such mayhem to offensive schemes that it became foolish to try to block him on blitzes with a running back. Teams actually stationed an extra tackle in the backfield, and L.T. still came screaming in like something with a smokestack, iron wheels and fire box.

And, no, the connection with Wallace is not the havoc he wreaks on rims, but his irresistible rebounding.

Wallace is, however, only a 41.8 percent foul shooter, the worst in NBA history. Like Wilt Chamberlain, his spiritual ancestor and a 51.1 percent career free-throw shooter, Wallace can pour shots in at practice, from the top of the key and either baseline.

In a game, it is different. In a game, the "Hack-a-Ben" strategy of off-the-ball fouls is a frequent tactic against him.

"It's a desperation move," snorted Wallace, who brought his Cavs teammates off the bench, cheering, after he swished two straight recently when New Jersey tried it.

He said his shooting most foul has a physiological explanation. "I play hard, with my heartbeat at a high rate," he said. "Then, at the line, you have to calm down and do something very precise."

The Winter Olympics features an event called the biathlon, a blend of cross country skiing, with its extreme cardiovascular demands, and the stillness and control required for rifle shooting. The physical demands, as in foul shooting and rebounding, are contradictory.

At 34, Big Ben has little use for serenity, although it is a necessity at the line. He has built a fine career on sweat and toil. He averages 7.2 rebounds in just less than one half of play each game for the streaking Cavs. That ranks 44th in the NBA in rebounding. Projected to 48 minutes, he would be seventh.

The so-called "back-tip," which he basically invented, boosts his average. On the maneuver, Wallace, when unable to grab the ball, slaps it toward open teammates. Because of a scoring revision, the tipper, not the recipient of the tip, gets credit for the rebound.

With his cranky back more limber this season, thanks in part to a solid hour-and-a-half of exercise each and every day, Wallace is also blocking 1.76 shots per game. He is 11th-best in the league. Only three other players in the top two dozen play fewer minutes.

Cleveland fans are just now seeing a semblance of the form he had when he was a champion in Detroit. Attacking the glass is the heart's delight of the hard-working Wallace.

"Some guys wanted to pass like Magic Johnson or shoot like Larry Bird or finish like Michael. I settled for rebounds," Wallace said.

Settle, nothing. He took them by force.

To reach Bill Livingston:

blivingston@plaind.com, 216-999-4672

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