In the Nov. 24, 1999, episode of the TV series
              "The West Wing," White House correspondent Danny
              Concannon, who is sweet on presidential press secretary
              C.J. Cregg, asks presidential aide Josh Lyman if
              there are any special things C.J. likes.

              Josh thinks a moment and says, "Goldfish."

              And sure enough, Danny soon shows up in
              C.J.'s office with a goldfish swimming in a baggie.

              And we all laugh along with C.J. as she
              explains what we all knew: The "goldfish"
              she likes are the cheese snack crackers.

              The scene was as predictable as jelly
              following peanut butter onto a 5-year-old's
              Wonder Bread. But it was charming, it was
              perfect for both characters and it provided a
              nice break amid the whirlwind of interlocking
              dramas that made "West Wing" the best show on TV.

              That was then. With only two shows left in
              the 2001-02 season, alas, the "West Wing"
              news is not so good. When it's clicking, it's
              still the best show on television, and that includes
             "The Sopranos." Too often this year, it has not clicked.

              Too often, creator and writer Aaron Sorkin
              seems to have run low on good ideas and
              been unsure how to handle the ones he has
              had. Too often, it's felt like he's been riffing
              while he tries to remember the song.

              He trapped President Jed Bartlet in a
              lurching story about whether Congress
              would censure him for concealing his
              multiple sclerosis. This produced a few fine
              scenes, like that of Bartlet's chief of staff
              Leo McGarry testifying before Congress. It
              also produced weeks of meandering before
              Sorkin seemed to wake up one day and say,
              "I'm sick of this." So he dumped the whole thing,
              along with at least two subplots — Leo's drinking
              and Mrs. Bartlet's losing her medical license.

              It was the "West Wing" version of the
              "dream year" on "Dallas." Suddenly we
              were expected to carry on as if the previous
              few months never happened.

              In fact, there have been several disturbing
              signs this year that Sorkin has been writing
              from whim as much as vision.

              Take romances. Josh Lyman finally got a girlfriend.
              Josh's assistant, Donna, got a boyfriend. The President's
              assistant, Charlie, had been dating the President's
              daughter. Even workaholic Leo had a date, with his lawyer.

              And then each of these squeezes just suddenly
              seemed to disappear. Is there some singles
              bar where they're all hanging out, waiting
              for the phone to ring?

              Now, with any ensemble cast, players come
              and go. In serial television, life is cheap.
              But romance isn't the only area this year
              where it has often felt as if Sorkin is darting
              about, grabbing this and that and hoping it
              will somehow come together.

              "West Wing" always has had snappy
              dialogue. That's fine. We would expect its
              cast to speak snappily. But whole passages
              this year were snappy just to be snappy.
              They were riffing.

              Presidential counsel Sam Seaborn is a
              serious guy. He spent a whole show
              obsessing over discontinuing the penny.
              Josh forgot about a national crisis when he
              saw a Web site about himself. Aide Toby
              Zeigler, the most serious guy of all, spent a
              recent episode acting as if he had inhaled
              nitrous oxide.

              Now, if "West Wing" were otherwise taking
              care of business, these could be goldfish moments
              - charming breaks that humanize the participants.

              This year, those moments felt like Sorkin admiring
              his own cleverness, which is uncomfortable, though
              not nearly as uncomfortable as his two special shows,
              the first about 9/11 and the second featuring interviews
              with real-life Presidents and their aides. Those shows
              were awful, dripping with smug self-congratulation:
              Look, everyone, we're such a good show that our
              actors can lecture children on terrorism and
              real-life former Presidents hang around with us.

              A few scenes this year were simply bizarre:
              Toby grilling the President about his father,
              the First Lady inviting some gals to come
              get drunk. There's a difference between
              pushing the envelope in high creativity and
              thrashing about in the mistaken belief that
              clever writing can make any idea into
              compelling drama.

              All this said, "West Wing" remains quality
              stuff. The character who ducked the
              turmoil, Leo, remains brilliant, and the
              show hasn't lost the basic elements that
              made it good. It had enough high points this
              year for cautious optimism about 2002-03.

              But it would be nice if Sorkin takes a deep breath
              this summer, avoids drug busts and refocuses on
              what made the show work when a goldfish joke
              was an accent, not a centerpiece.

                      E-mail: dhinckley@edit.nydailynews.com