They were like two trains passing in the night, if the NBA's barren off-season counts as one night, and by "passing" you mean "awkwardly stuck into the same space by virtue of imprecise journalism."
Yet here it is: Michael Beasley, whose mysterious disappearance into the halls of in-patient was the summer's biggest non-trade story, is out and beloved. Almost cosmically, fellow eccentric and D.C.-area native Delonte West then gets knocked by the cops for ... well, you know the story by now.
The Beasley soap opera, which had the poor fortune to unfold over the weekend and possibly involve Twitter, ended up a dud. The talented and perplexing Miami forward had entered rehab because the league made him; as far as we know, there was no threat to himself or others, no severe depression and nothing wackier going into his system than weed, whose presence in the NBA is hardly a revelation.