Dan Gilbert has a problem, and it is a problem of near Titanic proportions.

July 1st, 2010, a date circled on his calendar for the past seven years, is fast approaching.

Dan Gilbert, you see, owns the Cleveland Cavaliers.

And July 1st marks the start of the NBA's most-talked-about free agency period, ever.

This is the big one, the free agency period that will see LeBron James bolt for the flash and cash of greener pastures, either in the NBA or elsewhere, or sign a lucrative deal that will keep him, for better or for worse, a Cavalier for life.

And anything other than LeBron's staying a Cavalier will be seen, can only be seen, as the death-knell of Cavalier's basketball in Cleveland for the foreseeable future.

Gilbert knows this, James knows this, and you can be sure that Danny Ferry, the G.M. responsible for the current dysfunctional state of the Cavs' roster, knows this. If LeBron leaves, the Cavs instantaneously become a punchline, a non-factor.

In other words, what they used to be.

When Ferry was a player.

Ferry has put together a supporting roster of cast-offs and duds, has-beens and never-weres, wrapped them around James with duct tape and baling wire and hoped his sheer will and talent would carry the USS Motley Crew to the promised land. Heck, he even gave the Cavs a whacky, in-over-his-head skipper with a tendency to literally bite off his words during news conferences.

But the fat lady has sung and we all know it's over for this bunch. The head coach, Mike Brown, was canned early Monday morning. Ferry, the aforementioned architect of this latest travesty by the lake, has got to feel the sword of Damocles hanging above him.

And Gilbert knows he's gotta make something happen.

Forget those silly Coach K to Cleveland rumors. And Callipari bolting Kentucky? He's a cold-blooded mercenary, but I don't see that either.

But sniffing around for a new coach? That is the ticket.

And the only coach that matters, the only coach with 10 championships on his coaching resumé, the only coach to have mentored both LeBron's hero and his foil just happens to become a free agent at the end of this season as well.

Phil Jackson, who's 10 rings as a coach could become 11 in the next few weeks, is in the final days of his current contract with the Los Angeles Lakers and rumors have swirled for months that, while the Lakers want Phil back, they want him to take a pay-cut from his current $12-million-a-year salary.

If Kobe and the Lakers win this year, Jackson will have guided them to 5 championships. He steered Jordan and the Bulls to 6.

I'm betting he could get LeBron and the Cavs to at least 4.

That'd give Phil 15 as a coach, a nice number, and easily lock in his reputation as the greatest of all time for all time. It would also give him the distinction of coaching four of the most dominant NBA talents of the last 25 years, and four of the greatest individual players of all time.

Phil Jackson can make something of the dead weight Ferry saddled LeBron with; there's nobody else that can. Period.

So let LeBron know you're serious, let him know you're bringing in the only thing close to a guarantee in the NBA today, and then open the checkbook.

Give Phil a raise, whatever it takes, to get him to come to Cleveland. Say five years, $20-million per.

And give LeBron whatever he wants.

Then sit back, and watch the hardware pile up.

Or don't, and watch the Cavs slide back into the mire of destitution and despair that they lived in for too long. Burn on, big river, burn on….

Don't look now but the Nats are tied for third in the most competitive division in baseball; only five games separate the cellar from the penthouse in the National League East. The way the Nats have played so far this year, and with off-season acquisition Jason Marquis set to come off the DL in the second half of the season and Stephen Strasburg ripping through the minors, Washington might be interested in becoming a baseball town this fall.

Of course, the fall usually means the Redskins which this month, sadly, seems to mean links to PED hustler Dr. Anthony Galea and rumors that Santana Moss is somehow wrapped up in an attempt to get his hands on some HGH, a violation of league rules. Of course, there's no approved urine test for HGH, which means unless someone actually busts an NFL player in the act of using, the odds of getting caught are pretty slim.

Which means the owners and the league want the players union to approve blood testing. Which I'd completely approve of if it applied to everyone who worked for the NFL: owners, executives, staff, players, everybody. Let the NFL be the first league where what's good for the goose really is good for the gander. Test 'em all, for all illegal substances, and then see how "disappointed" the owners are in their cash-machines' "morality" and "character." Please.

Congrats to Ted Leonsis, the Pollins, and the rest of the Wizards family on landing the number 1 pick in next month's NBA draft. I'm sure it was a remarkably bittersweet moment for Irene Pollin, but it must be nice to think that Abe somehow, from somewhere, was able to give one more gift to the city and the team that meant so much to him during his life.

The World Cup starts this month. Thank goodness. I think it ends after 30 days of global soccer revelry, most if which involves singing songs about smelly cheese, head-butting people square in the face, writhing around on the ground in hopes of getting someone else in trouble, and crying like a big baby when your team gets knocked out in the first round.

And that's just the England fans!

Hey-OH!!