In Praise Of Dwight Howard   If you're surprised at the Orlando
Magic's strong start, you haven't watched Dwight Howard this
season. At various times in his young career, Howard's been
overpowering, agile, immense, fluid, frightening and startling.
Now, he's all that at once, and his NBA's buzz index has lept
into the red. Henry Abbott's watching Howard every chance he
gets — previously the kind of thing one said only about the
Phoenix Suns — and Jack McCallum's giving him the royal
treatment. I'm even returning to Eric Neel's 2006 claim that
Howard, not Bron Bron, would hold the league's spine high over
his head.  This holiday season, I'm downright thankful for
Dwight Howard. Not just for the orgiastic basketball fury he's
visited upon the entire league, but also for a more personal
matter. See, Dwight Howard gave me the gift of life. You know
those creepy statistics the radio's so fond of feeding you,
about how by the time you die, you'll have spent 19 years
asleep, or four stuck in traffic? Well, if you've