Bobby Jackson, who was reunited with the Kings a few weeks ago, returns as a 35-year-old whose body recovers reluctantly from injuries, clings to the final five or six pounds of unwanted weight, and causes him to pause before high-diving into the stands for loose balls.

"I'm not Superman anymore," he cautions.

Yet Sacramento's one-time superhero – one of few Kings not intimidated by the Lakers in Game 7 of the 2002 Western Conference finals – longs for the days when he wore the cape. If he possessed otherworldly powers right now, Jackson says, he would do two things.

Revive the Kings.

Rescue his father.

Three months ago – and only five years since the two reconciled – Bobby Jackson Sr. was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. He is hospitalized in Washington, D.C.

"My dad smoked for 30 years," the younger Jackson said matter-of-factly. "He got lung disease a long time ago, before the cancer. One of his lungs just collapsed. He's not doing well."

Jackson, an 11-year veteran, never has needed much prodding. His feelings move from the gut to the vocal chords, unfiltered, uncensored. There are times his bosses cringe at his blunt assessments, his teammates wince at his withering critiques, his comments make bold headlines. As Geoff Petrie once said, not unkindly, "You have to live with some of that with Bobby."

In truth, living with Bobby Jackson is all about the benefits. He is the bargain-basement purchase, the beloved community-oriented player who probably earns less than he could, and who never leaves fans asking for more. Steals. Ballhandling. Three-point shooting. Unwavering energy and unbridled passion, never more evident than in those fearless sprints that end in twisting, improbable layups.

Yet these past few months, as he prepares for another season, Jackson has been conflicted about his past, and admittedly, consumed by his father's future.

"My dad left when I was a little kid," Jackson related the other day. "I probably saw him four or five times until I became a senior in college. My mom tried to initiate a (reconciliation) with him, but I didn't want anything to do with that. Then when she died in 2003, I started to realize that you only have two parents. I asked myself, 'Do I want to get to know him? To let him get to know my kids? Can I forgive?' I decided he needs to be there."

Jackson, who is married with four children and remains extremely close to his twin sister in North Carolina, said his initial overture to his father led to awkward, uncomfortable moments. There was anger. There were accusations. There were pregnant pauses.

"Like I told him," Jackson said, " 'What you did, how our relationship was, you messed up. You can't call me for stuff. You can't ask me for anything. You didn't take care of me and my sister. My mom did.' I had to get over that."

These past five years, Jackson said, the two have remained in frequent contact. They discussed his post-Kings stops in Memphis, New Orleans/Oklahoma City and Houston. They talked about his recent trade back to Sacramento, his desire to mentor Beno Udrih and the other young Kings and, eventually, to join the organization's coaching staff.

"But you know what's really hard?" Jackson asked, softly. "I only got to know my dad a few years ago, and now he's sick. I can't get away from that. I can't. I just have to be back there for him as much as I can."

Call The Bee's Ailene Voisin, (916) 321-1208.