Here’s a prediction: A new word—Imused—soon will be added to the American lexicon. Its meaning? “To vilify in such a way as to ultimately benefit the party or parties being vilified.” It will be applied in instances where the victim becomes the victor, where the downtrodden vanquish the mighty.

For that, indeed, is what has happened in the case of Don Imus, the shock jock fired by CBS Radio one week after his racist remark on April 4 about the Rutgers women’s basketball team.

The incident, with the classic earmarks of great American tragedy–race, sex, and money, with politics as an afterthought—dominated the news for nearly two weeks. When the dust had settled, the controversy produced two losers and one winner.

The winner, as a few bold observers have pointed out, is Rutgers women’s basketball. In the end, Coach Vivian Stringer and her program actually benefited from Imus’ truly reprehensible remark.

No basketball team in memory—men’s or women’s—was given the positive press the Rutgers women received. With their nationally broadcast press conference, they were able to present themselves for what they are—personable, articulate student-athletes who worked hard to achieve something—runner-up in the NCAA tournament—that no one expected of them. It’s my guess that as a result, Coach Stringer (who demagogued a bit in a meandering speech at the press conference) will corral a couple of big-time recruits.

Unfortunately, there was a very serious downside to their notoriety. Apparently, some Neanderthals actually sent death threats to members of the team. And this points up the major loser in this sad episode: race relations. The Imus incident widened the chasm dividing the races.

Imus was undone by the Outrage Industry, headed, of course, by Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson. Both these reverend gentlemen have well-documented anti-Semitic remarks in their resumes, prompting letters-to-the-editor writers and Fox talking heads, among others, to call them hypocrites, and asking why they weren’t going after rappers and others who disrespect women—black women in particular. Meanwhile, spurred by the internet, Sharpton and Jackson’s army grew, and when advertisers began pulling out of his show, Imus’ fate was sealed. The battle still rages in some quarters, and neither side is about to see merit in the opposing viewpoint.

Imus took the heat—all of it, even though his producer, Bernard McGurk, actually set up his boss on that fateful Wednesday morning. (Imus: “That’s some rough girls from Rutgers. Man, they got tattoos…” McGurk: “Some hardcore hos.” Imus: “That’s some nappy-headed hos there, I’m gonna tell you that.”) Initially, CBS suspended Imus for two weeks, and he seemed genuinely chastened. He went on Sharpton’s radio show (who knew the man had a radio show?) to apologize, and arranged to meet with the Rutgers team. He also promised to come back from the suspension with a new approach to his program, which has been described—accurately—as “crude, juvenile, cruel, sophomoric, tedious, funny and thoroughly addicting.” Alas, he never got the chance to act on his alleged good intentions.

(He did meet with the team—after he was fired—telling them that he no longer was trying to save his job, he was trying to save his “life.”)

In dismissing Imus, CBS essentially ignored his body of work. This alleged racist was perhaps the first radio personality to stand up for the people of New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. Imus said he could only conclude that the government’s slow response was because nearly all those needing emergency services were black. His support for African-American politicians such as former Congressman Harold Ford is well-documented, and his ranch for children with cancer has accepted children of all races.

In losing Imus, we also lost one of the great interviewers of our time. He was well-informed, curious, and incisive in dealing with politicians, journalists, and industrial leaders. Those qualities, combined with a quick wit, made him a formidable adversary for any platitude-spouting pol.

While the Imus show was a welcome change from run-of-the-mill morning network fare, it did need to change. Its misanthropic format (the target of which was often Imus himself) sometimes simply turned mean. And it was evident that Imus was beginning to change, even in the two days he was on air after his two-week suspension was announced. I believe if he had been allowed to come back from the suspension, the show would have taken on a more positive tone, yet we would still have his informative and entertaining interviews.

The truth is, perhaps our whole national dialog needs to change. Our talk shows, our political roundtables, sometimes degenerate into name-calling and sound bites that do nothing but enhance the image of the speaker as bold and witty. While political correctness can be carried to the extreme, its underlying theme of civility needs to be re-examined.

Don Imus is a good and decent man, though deeply flawed. Unfortunately, his legacy is now three words that are contrary to who he is, three words for which all of us are paying the price.