There's nothing like a big dose of the Knicks to cure whatever ails you. They're like the penicillin of the NBA.

On the heels of six straight losses, the then-3-9 Bulls needed to see Isiah Thomas as much as New Yorkers would like to see their foundering GM-coach go.

A successful home-and-home set with New York has the Bulls now riding a modest two-game winning streak, with nine of their next ten games coming at the United Center. Of those ten games, only two come against teams over .500: New Orleans (8-7) and Indiana (9-7). For the entire month of December, the Bulls play only two other winning squads in the Lakers (9-5) and Cavs (9-6).

Talk about a cupcake stretch. That's as easy a December stretch as the Bears have. Now's the time for the Bulls to fly up the anemic Eastern Conference standings.

Of course, for the moment, beating the Knicks in two straight, and the cushy stretch that lies ahead, are playing 17th and 18th fiddle, respectively, to Ben Wallace's headband. (And you were worried it'd be some stupid, insignificant thing.)

Stupid as it indeed is, the Wallace headband flap, for the time being, is all the sports rage – in Chicago and nationally.

I've tried to sort this mess out in my head, attempting to make sense of a senseless situation and decide who's really to blame here. Here's what I've come up with.

Actually, I think I'll let Michael McKean's superb "Mr. Green" in the movie Clue do the talking:

They all did it.

(You remember, from the third and final ending – the "This is what really happened" ending. Great ending. Great flic.)

Yep, as far as I can tell, all parties involved have blood on their hands.

Wallace, for his part, has admitted to knowingly and publicly breaking team rules by twice entering Saturday night's game at Madison Square Garden wearing a headband. Parents call this sort of behavior 'acting out.'

Big Baby Ben claims the headband isn't about being above the team, but rather is part of his routine, something that makes him more comfortable.

That may very well be true, but in dealing with the issue in the most public and juvenile manner possible, Wallace without a doubt subverted the interests of the team in the interest of himself and his cause, if you can really call wanting to wear a headband a cause.

By doing so, Wallace, who was signed as much for his defensive prowess (which, incidentally, seems to be in hiding these days) as his leadership skills, has set a disturbing example and hurt the team's focus. With their now well-documented early-season struggles, this team needs all the focus it can muster.

Had Wallace at least attempted to go behind closed doors and discuss his dissatisfaction – or, in the spirit of the rapidly approaching Festivus season, 'air his grievances' – over the rule with John Paxson, the implementer the rule, and Scott Skiles, the rule's enforcer, Paxson and Skiles might have acquiesced to their prized free-agent's wishes. In doing so they could've relegated the headband story to a two-sentence note in the inside pages of the sports section.

As is, Wallace never gave them that chance, and now we have everyone from Seattle to Miami weighing in on this embarrassing situation.

Still, there's plenty more blame to go around. Skiles, that great preacher of team basketball, likewise couldn't help himself Saturday night, engaging in a full-on pissing contest with Wallace in the middle of the game.

Skiles can talk about 'the best interests of the team' all he wants, but that's just paying lip service. What unfolded in New York was about Skiles and his irrepressible need to assert control and authority.

By pulling Wallace from the game – not once, but twice, mind you – for wearing his headband, Skiles allowed a nothing to become a something – a big something. He let the situation escalate while simultaneously punishing the entire team by depriving them of Wallace's services, erratic as they've been. Hardly a team-first tactic.

The smarter, and certainly less stubborn approach – unpleasant as it may have been – would've been to let Wallace have his little temper tantrum, and then after the game, along with Paxson, quietly, but firmly speak with the struggling center and dole out the subsequent fine. Once again, we're talking about pretty unremarkable news.

Then there's Paxson. This is the one I'm still a little shaky on. On the one hand, stuffy and antiquated as it is, the no-headband policy isn't entirely unreasonable, particularly given the fact that the rule was born out of Paxson's desire to do away with the sloppy donning of headbands (i.e., crooked, around the neck) popular with several former Bulls. Pax probably just wanted to ensure a moderately professional look for his team. He is, after all, running a business.

And yet, anyone who's ever played a sport, no matter the level, knows what a superstitious place the world of athletics can be. Whether it's a headband, high socks, a dirty old hat or red shoes, athletes across the sporting spectrum often find comfort in ostensibly meaningless fashions.

Instead of insisting on a public, hard-line stance that screams stubborn old-school hard ass and that has done nothing but bring hostility into the locker room, Paxson could, in the interest of keeping players in their respective comfort zones, adopt a more lax policy – without fear, I'd wager, of ruining the team’s image or fracturing its unity.

Paxson could retain the right of final judgment, but Wallace's request to wear his trademark headband in his customary neat and tidy way, for instance, could and should get the green light.

In order to make some noise in the East, the Bulls need a happy and comfortable Ben Wallace performing at a high level. If that means letting him wear his headband or getting the man a Happy Meal, so be it.

With back-to-back wins and a boatload of very winnable games on the horizon, the scene is perfectly set for the Bulls to replace this story with a big, fat winning streak. And in the best interests of the team, it sure would be good to see Wallace, Skiles and Paxson making nice again.

Maybe then we can get back to talking basketball.