Yesterday morning, about 9 a.m. or so, you might have heard a national gasp of relief coming through the dining hall. Maybe even a shout or a cheer.

After weeks of watching baseball imbibe arsenic and hockey slit its own throat, fans all across the country were thrilled by the news that the NBA season, threatened by a lockout, was going to start on schedule November 4.

I was afraid I was going to have to occupy my currently sports-deficient midweek with watching the wire to see who was selected as the Red Sox's next pitching coach.

A week, perhaps not even that, of furious negotiating between players and management led by NBA Commissioner David Stern have succeeded in preventing this terrible fate.

As thrilled as I am with this turn of events, I am filled with trepidation for future NBA seasons.

The warning signs are all there for another crisis. The current resolution appears to be nothing more than a Band-Aid, avoiding the inevitable work stoppage.

The original problem was the lack of a collective bargaining arrangement between management and players.

Take a good look at the solution found. The players have agreed to play the season without such an agreement, and the owners in turn have agreed not to lock the players out.

Sound familiar?

It should.

It was the novel means by which the 1993 baseball season was played.

Sure, it got us through that season, but it delayed the inevitable labor confrontation that we are only beginning to realize was taking shape at least three years earlier.

The fundamental problems haven't been addressed by the NBA.

What about the salary cap? There are still suits on appeal in New York against the league and its salary cap in particular.

Decisions are pending, but the labor future of the league would be a lot brighter if they were to stay on the hard courts and stay out of the federal ones.

In the offseason, the NBA took the Orlando Magic to court over Horace Grant's contract, because they felt it violated the salary cap.

They did the same regarding the Phoenix Suns's contract to A.C. Green.

No league can survive while perpetually fighting its member states.

But these events were conveniently avoided by Stern and Co. during this week's negotiations, in their eagerness to avoid an embarassing lockout at a time when they could enhance their popularity in the professional sports void.

(I'm sure that Sports Illustrated's cover from last spring, entitled "Why the NHL's Hot and the NBA's Not," wasn't too far from Stern's mind.)

That wasn't all Stern forgot to bring up at the negotiating table.

What about the exorbitant demands made by today's young players? Did anybody mention that one?

Glenn Robinson wants $100 million from the Milwaukee ("Nobody Has That Many") Bucks. Larry Johnson got a guaranteed $84 million, and he's injured again after all of last year's back troubles.

Can any league spend $100 million on its number-one draft pick or on anyone, for that matter?

You could build an arena for that kind of money. You could buy the San Diego Padres and the Pittsburgh Pirates for that (farm system included).

And fans wonder why the owners plead poverty?

Yet fans demand that their teams spend the big bucks to sign the stars that will carry their teams to glory, and accuse owners of being Scrooges if they don't.

Owners claim that they can't win.

They're damned if they do and damned if they don't.

They're right.

If I were an owner, I'd say "Enough!"

What if Big Dog doesn't get his big Bucks?

What if Juwan Howard isn't satiated by the millions the Washington Bullets have offered him?

Let'em sit, I'd say. Their primary skill is putting a round ball through an orange hoop. If no one pays them to do this, they're out of luck (as many baseball players are finding out). Remember Jimmy Jackson's almost-full-season holdout from the Dallas Mavericks?

Sure, initially, folks were upset with the Maverick management. But pretty soon, Jackson and his holdout were forgotten.

When he signed at the end of the season, his only impact was to help the team win enough games to avoid setting the record for fewest wins in a season -- and nobody cared.

Fans are going to have to accept management's unwillingness to dish out the dough. They're going to have to get used to not signing the mega-contracts.

Or else pretty soon, the fans are going to have to get used to this virus known as the work stoppage.