Through either great planning or terrible planning the sports gods have smiled on the city of Washington with not one but two important games tonight involving our hometown Wizards and Capitals. (Nats got a game too but it ain’t exactly the playoffs yet.)

Sometimes it’s best not to think about these things until gametime. Worse still to make predictions.

Let me instead take this opportunity to mention a story not from Sunday’s Post but the previous Sunday’s on writer David Halberstam. Halberstam died a decade ago (while writing his next sports book, of course), and the laudatory piece laments his forgotten place among writers over that span. Not forgotten here, of course, though I’m ashamed to say I found only one Halberstam mention in the mikeoconnelljr.com archives. Here it is, promoting one of my favorite books, October 1964. In fact, this is one of about 12 books I’ve read in my life. Six or seven of those were written by David Halberstam. Not many conservatives admit to reading Halberstam, but if you can get past his obvious faults (Harvard, NYC suburbs, Pulitzer Prize), readers of all political stripes can appreciate his work.

I do. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us “forget” him. Halberstam’s death was, of course, close in date to that of my own father, and the two will be forever linked in my mind for it. Don’t need the Post to remind me of that one.