DOES HE HAVE OUR ATTENTION YET?

Byline: KAREN CROUSE

``Bad As I Wanna Be'' is the title of Dennis Rodman's autobiography. As for the working title of his life, it's clearly ``Sad As I Wanna Be.''

There's so much about Rodman that's ambiguous; his drive, his dress, his dreams. But on Monday one thing stood out like the radio reporter who showed up in drag for the press conference Rodman called to announce his intentions to play for the Lakers this season:

Beneath the nose studs and the retro duds is a lost soul screaming for help.

I sincerely hope he gets it with the Lakers, which will be his fourth team in seven years. Some stability would be a welcomed start for someone who has been a rudderless hull of a human being since being abandoned by his father and forsaken by his peers as a young child.

It doesn't take a trained psychologist to see that affirmation - or at the very least, attention - is what Rodman is after. Judging by Monday's mob scene in Beverly Hills - the commotion caused by the swarm of European honey bees a block away paled in comparison - and the volume of voice mail I received recently for daring to say the Lakers would be stupid to sign him, Rodman's most basic need will be met in L.A.

Or will it?

The fans will fill the Forum to behold the agility and brawn and grace of the NBA's Baryshnikov, which will make Lakers owner Jerry Buss happy. And Shaquille O'Neal's recent rash of flubbed two-footers suggests there will be plenty of rebound opportunities for Rodman, which will make all the paying customers happy.

As he demonstrated yet again Monday, Rodman is always good for an outrageous quote or 20, which will make media types happy.

And Rodman's heads-up play and hustle will tilt the rebounding, steals and turnover numbers in the Lakers' favor most nights and elevate them to championship-contending status, which will make NBC and the NBA happy.

That leaves Rodman and this novel question: Does anybody really care if he's happy?

If the NBA's seven-time defending rebounding champion is, he sure had a strange way of showing it Monday. Standing next to his beautiful wife, contemplating the next move in his glamorous life, Rodman went from contemptuous to crushed at the drop of a few pointed questions from the people in the overflow crowd who weren't there as acolytes.

And unlike in the dictionary, there was no trace of contentment in between.

He showed up 30 minutes late - on-the-dot for those on RST (Rodman Standard Time) - and posed for photos with his bride Carmen Electra (the last time I can remember hearing that many shutters click at once, newly turned pro Tiger Woods was proclaiming, ``Hello, world.'')

Rodman proceeded to bury his news of the day much like he has his insecurities, beneath layers of frivolity. He talked about wanting to play for the Lakers but having no desire to hold the hands of kids, a seeming contradiction to anyone who has been around Shaq and 20-year-old Kobe Bryant.

He talked a good game about his current physical condition and his league-wide popularity. Finally, 10 minutes into the press conference, Rodman deigned to answer the question on everybody's lips.

``I'm going to sign (with the Lakers) tonight,'' he said.

Hey, man cannot live on club-hopping alone.

``I'm bored,'' Rodman said. ``I'm tired of not doing anything. I want to entertain the people. I always give the people what they want.''

Rodman does so many outrageous things to draw attention that his smaller gestures sometimes go unnoticed. He paid for the funeral of James Byrd Jr., the African-American who was dragged to his death in an apparent hate crime in Texas. And he said he plans to donate $100,000 of his Lakers salary, once the formality of signing an actual contract is completed, to 10 charities.

``And still,'' Rodman said, his voice cracking and tears trickling down his left cheek, ``I can never win. No matter what I do, I'm still not going to win with you people. No matter what I do for this league and the game of basketball, I'll never win.''

Rodman's emotions at that moment were raw and real, and in his pathos the truth was revealed: For all the attention he seeks, the love he really craves is his own.

You don't have to squint too hard to see that Rodman is filled with self-loathing. If the studs in his nose and his chin and the tattoos covering his body aren't clues, there was the aside he made when explaining Electra's role in his decision to return to the NBA.

Rodman said the actress, whom he wed in November, has been ``real good to me.'' He went on to express amazement that she'd stand by a guy like him ``through thick and thin.''

If Rodman can't see his redeeming qualities as a person, independent of his celebrity stature, let's hope Lakers executive director Jerry West can.

Once the Lakers sign Rodman, whether or not West wants him in the Lakers family becomes immaterial. He'll be their 37-year-old foster child and even if Rodman won't admit it, he's desperately seeking direction.

Who better to provide it, when you think about it, than someone as steady and cerebral as West?

Rodman can help the Lakers, there's no question of that. He wasn't being modest, just matter-of-fact, when he stated, ``I don't have an ego. I'm not going to be the vocal point of the team. (In Chicago) I was just the guy that (did the dirty work), pretty much.''

The truth is, there are much bigger egos already on the Lakers and no bigger heart than the one Rodman wears on his singlet during games. With him on the floor, there's no chance of the Lakers having ``a tendency to look into space in the fourth quarter'' as Rodman perceptively pointed out.

The bigger question is, will the Lakers be good for Rodman? It sure looks like he could use help and I'm not talking about down low in the post.

Maybe the best therapy for the troubled power forward is being part of something bigger than himself. The Lakers had better hope so. Because if they sign Rodman and then let him continue his downward spiral as a person, even as he's helping take them to greater heights as a player, no championship banner will cover up the hole where a conscience used to be.