OPINION: Anthony needs to stop saying sorry, start taking action

You look in the mirror, and you don't like what you see. You're tired of disappointing your family, your friends, yourself. You promise to change.

And you mean the words with everything in your soul.

Carmelo Anthony needs one of these sessions in front of his mirror. He's a master of saying he's sorry, largely because he has so much practice. He's great at talking about change.

But talking is the easy part. Actually reaching down deep and wrestling with your worst side requires hard labor.

It's time - it's past time - for Anthony to quit talking and start working.

He's charged with driving under the influence on Interstate 25. He was, according to the arresting officer, weaving along at 4 on Monday morning. He placed the lives of dozens of drivers in peril.

Anthony is a man. He's no longer the smiling teenager who led Syracuse University to a national title. He's a mega-millionaire. He's expected to lead the Denver Nuggets.

Jerry Colangelo serves as managing director of the U.S. Olympic basketball team. He spoke Tuesday in Chicago about his effort to craft a team that will make America proud.

Anthony is one of the team's stars, and he's not doing much to inspire pride. Still, Colangelo is forgiving of Anthony. Make that too forgiving.

"People make mistakes," Colangelo said, "so I'm not, um."

He paused.

"He didn't commit a major crime here."

Major?

Depends on your definition of the word.

Potentially deadly?

Yes, yes, yes.

Colangelo must know, as we all know, this brand of recklessness turns vibrant women and men, girls and boys into corpses. Driving while impaired is a marvelous way to kill people.

Anthony could have called a cab. He could have called one of his teammates. He could have hitchhiked. Any option would have been better than his choice.

He's accused of driving while impaired. This isn't shocking. It happens all the time. That this is a common crime does nothing to lessen its danger.

"We give our players the benefit of the doubt ..." Colangelo said, "and he's sorry it took place."

Sure, he is. He always is. He's sorry he threw that coward's sucker punch at Mardy Collins of the New York Knicks. He's sorry he appeared in a video that encouraged violent retribution to police informants. The list goes on and on.

When Anthony apologizes, it's always compelling. He speaks with force. He's charming, but I prefer change to charm.

In the fall, Anthony and I talked about how a baby can change your life. Kiyan Anthony, Carmelo's son, turned 1 in March.

"He's the best thing in the world, I think," Anthony said. "I'm pretty sure every parent in the world says that, but he's the best thing in the world to me.

"He's a blessing. He changed my perspective in life - opened my eyes to a lot of things, made me more responsible, made me think twice about things that I'm doing."

He talked about uproarious boxing sessions with his boy. He talked about greeting Kiyan first thing each morning. He flashed the smile that made him famous. He said he had changed.

He was convincing. I'll give him that. The man can talk.

But after awhile, talk becomes empty. The day comes when you wake up, look in the mirror and vow it's time to stop talking.
Instead, it's time to become the person you've been talking about.