Somewhere there is a third grade kid who is struggling. He is having trouble learning how to read, partly because he's not getting much help at home and partly because he doesn't seem to have the motivation to work at it.

Somewhere there's a line of homeless men, waiting for a meal, hoping for something to shed just a little bit of light into the unrelenting grayness of their day. They want a reason to smile again.

Somewhere there's a young girl with Down Syndrome. She's working on learning how to dribble so that she can join her Special Olympics basketball team, but she doesn't have it down quite yet.

And somewhere else, a bunch of millionaires are in intense negotiations with each other about money and a part of those negotiations may well hurt that little boy, that bunch of homeless men and that little girl who wants to dribble a basketball.

Welcome to the world of the National Basketball Association lockout and the Milwaukee Bucks.

The Bucks have a long history of giving back to the community that has supported them for so long. And they don't just pay lip service to the idea of giving back. Everybody in the organization, from the big bosses to Jim Paschke and Jon McGlocklin to the interns and ticket sellers participates in a wide variety of helpful activities. The Bucks aren't the only team that does this. Both the Brewers and Packers have lengthy histories of community involvement.

But because of the NBA lockout, no players can participate in any of this stuff. Teams are barred from having contact with their players while the lockout is in place.

The Bucks' Community Caravan continues to reach out. But having a bunch of front office employees show up with paint brushes at your school, while nice, doesn't have quite the same spark as having Brandon Jennings or Andrew Bogut or Luc Richard Mbah a Moute sit in front of your classroom and read "Goodnight Moon" or "Miss Nelson Is Missing" along with you. The people going out deserve praise, but those missing players are really missed.

The cynics among you will probably scoff at all of this and claim that these millionaire players are only doing this because they are told to or because they want to salve their conscience, guilty because they make so much money playing a game. The cynics will cast doubt on the importance of a player in a classroom or a school gym or behind a warming table full of food for the hungry.

But the cynics would be wrong. Totally wrong.

There is nothing inherently magic about these players. They are not special as human beings. But because of what they do, because of their abilities, they have an aura about them. And while we may scoff at the whole "athlete as idol" thing, it does exist and it can be an amazing experience for some people.

All the players, from the big stars to the rarely used reserves, all buy tickets, make appearances and stand behind food serving tables. The idea of the NBA star is as a good citizen is a reality, despite the very rare exception.

And I have seen the value of these appearances happen. Not all the time. Not even most of the time, I guess. But sometimes I have seen the magic that a professional athlete can bring to a kid who is sad, or somebody lonely, or somebody who is trying but can't seem to get over the hump.

If a player can touch just one kid, the results can be magic. I've talked with dozens of teachers over the years who say that they know a kid who turned around after a visit from an athlete. Those teachers also use the word "magic" to describe the interaction.

I've talked with workers who say that some athletes have the ability to give a little bit of hope to the hopeless, bring a minute of joy to the sad and make a broken man stand a little straighter, if even for a little while.

I'm sad that we may well miss some of this coming NBA season, even though I recognize that after the negotiations we will likely have a much stronger league. I don't see any villains in this – not the owners or the players. The NBA is a system that badly needs to whacked back into some other kind of shape.

But I am really sad about this little temporary bump in the road of Good Works.

I'm sad for that little boy who can't read, the girl who can't dribble and the man without any teeth who has forgotten how to smile.