On Monday, he was arrested after allegedly lying in the purchase of two handguns, a .38-caliber Smith & Wesson and a 9mm Ruger.

"Unfortunately, Philadelphia's become a pretty dangerous place," his attorney Brian McMonagle said, "and for athletes like himself, there's certainly no good reason for them not to try to protect their families and themselves."

My guess is that when athletes like himself come into Philadelphia, they're more likely to be greeted by fans, autograph pens and heartfelt handshakes than by pistols.

Yet the lawyer played the Philadelphia-is-dangerous defense. By the way, McMonagle said this standing in Montgomery County.

There are 23,700 gun permits in the city. Yes, guns don't kill people. Stupid people with guns do.

This argument "reinforces a stereotype that the answer to violence is more violence," says Joe Grace of CeaseFire PA. "All the available data shows that the more you introduce handguns into the situation, the more violence you get."

Dangerous burbs

He was denied the purchase due to a September protection-from-abuse order regarding his former girlfriend and mother of his daughter. Kianna Williams said McKie threw her to the ground, in Narberth, shouting, "I want you dead. I promise I'm going to kill you."

In 2001, McKie was part of another protection-from-abuse order when Williams alleged he punched her, dislocating her jaw. This unfortunate, alleged incident also occurred in the suburbs.

Maybe McKie shouldn't have any guns, in the suburbs or elsewhere. His lawyer, though, worked the obfuscation game and blamed the purchase on the wicked city.

McKie never forgot the neighborhood where he grew up. He launched AM8 Foundation - 8 being his Sixers number - and gave money, food and gifts to the Belfield Rec Center, around the corner from the street where he first lived.

"Belfield became Aaron's home-away-from-home," according to his foundation's Web site, "a haven for him to work on his game."

Benign Belfield

Risk-taker that I am, I went unarmed.

It was a splendid summer afternoon. Kids frolicked in the ice-blue pool. Teenagers shot hoops. Camp begins in two weeks.

In seven years of working there, Belfield's George Cowan says, there's not been a single incidence of violence. Jerry Boligitz, the rec department's district manager, worked there for two trouble-free years. There are kids here all the time. It is indeed a haven.

"Belfield's one of the city's basketball meccas," rec department program director Stuart Greenberg said. Rasheed Wallace played here, too.

Belfield has launched a baseball program. Next week, Cowan expects computers to arrive for the summer and after-school program.

Philadelphia doesn't need more guns. Or high-priced defense lawyers blaming failed gun purchases on our wicked streets.

It needs hoops. And computers.

As I was taking notes, a teen playing on the basketball court yelled, "Can you get someone to get us some fiberglass backboards?"

As it so happens, four new boards cost about as much as a .38-caliber Smith & Wesson and a 9mm Ruger, and would make the city, its kids and streets a better, safer place. Which you can't say about guns.

Maybe Brian McMonagle would like to do his part?

City Council, too.

In a case of harmonic convergence, Philadelphia School District students finished work Thursday, the very same day as did the Sage 17 of City Hall's fourth floor.

City Council is a legislative body that ceases to legislate for three full months. Council members earn a base salary of $102,000 - enviable pay for most of us - while legally allowed to work other jobs.

Which is where those three months come in handy.

"We've got to go to our farms in the country and pick vegetables," Bill Green says.

He jokes. Green's moonlighting job is as a corporate and securities lawyer at Pepper Hamilton.

Council's summer of light lifting follows swiftly on the suntan lotion of Memorial Day Week.

We get a Monday, council takes a week.

It's subsistence governing. Perhaps the three months afford Council time to travel back to the districts. By horse and buggy.

The seventh district's Maria Quiñones-Sánchez - like Green, a freshman - has no outside job. Her plans? "We're going to do a staff retreat. I'm going to spend time with my family. We've got a big litter initiative for my district. And I'm going to take a vacation."

Is the heat too much for Council's sensitive constitution? The mayor continues to mayor. The courts continue to convene. You, perhaps, continue to labor.

Council members insist they keep very, very busy in the summer, penning future legislation and providing constituent service, doing grip-and-grins at barbecues.

Guess what? People who work hard never need to defend themselves. You know, people who work 12 hard months, instead of nine.

As for why the seasonal windfall, inquiries to multiple hall officials yielded a unanimous answer: "Tradition."

You can almost hear Tevye fiddling through the corridors.

Members of the U.S. House of Representatives take off one month. They are paid $169,000 annually, represent more constituents (almost 700,000, half Philadelphia's entire population), maintain two residences, often travel substantial distances between their districts and the Capitol, and work assiduously to be reelected every two years.

By comparison, Council incumbency is nearly papal in its security. Members die in office. People with IQs no higher than toasters cakewalk through elections in perpetuity, all the while able to collect multiple incomes and pensions while slogging through three months of no legislation.

The only time a member gets ejected by a somnolent citizenry is when he or she does something truly heinous. Like driving without a license for 25 years.

Philadelphia is such an oasis of promise that any little boy can grow up to be a member of Council.

Provided Daddy was mayor first.

Three former mayors' progeny - Frank Rizzo, Bill Green and Wilson Goode Jr. - sit in council. It's our version of the Junior League.

As the old adage goes: Politicians, old buildings and prostitutes become respectable with age. This is a boon to politicians' children. Sharif Street's mistake was running for Council while Dad was in still office and not yet some romanticized version of an addled collective memory.

Where else can a guy like Frannie Rizzo, a former Peco lineman, rise to become a vaunted councilman?

Indeed, the money shot in his bio is that he has introduced "Ethics legislation regulating Lobbyists, banning Gifts, prohibiting Nepotism."

Prohibit nepotism? How would Council ever reach a quorum?

Some citizens might argue that City Council meets too often, and they may be right.

In that regard, perhaps the three months is simply a bit of paid insurance for the rest of us. Surf's up! Enjoy that summer!