FRONT PAGE

ABOUT ORNERY

WORLD WATCH

GUEST ESSAYS

FORUMS

CONTACT US

Print this page	E-mail this page

Hey Artest: Why don't you purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka?

I'm sorry - I think you all misunderstood. Ron Artest wasn't just lashing out impulsively and irrationally when he leapt into the stands and started beating up fans. No, no - since the day of our remembrance of the union between Native Americans and European pioneers was drawing nigh, Artest and his teammates were simply recreating the White Man's invasion and attack of Native Americans and the violent theft of their land. That's all. It was like one of those World War II re-enactments. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody - and, while we're at it, Happy Columbus Day.

But I kid, I kid. This week, ESPN the Magazine - that beacon of social responsibility - reminded us, the ignorant sports fans, in no uncertain terms that "there is certainly nothing funny about the riot at the Palace of Auburn Hills." And yes, perhaps 'funny' isn't exactly the word to use when describing the scene in Detroit that night. But there are plenty of other adjectives that fit the bill - mesmerizing, surreal, asinine, and yes, even laughable.

In more ways than one, the whole thing kind of put things in perspective. For the better part of the previous week, the Big Controversy that had Sports Nation so captivated was the Nicolette Sheridan/Terrell Owens Monday Night Football skit - which was undoubtedly stupid and tacky but, let's face it, relatively harmless, and hardly worthy of the national treatment it received. But the Pacers-Pistons brawl, now this was a different story. What we had here - finally, after so many over-hyped controversies like MNF, Janet Jackson, et al. - was a genuine scandal, happening right before our very eyes. I sat there with family watching the whole thing unfold - Artest attacking the wrong guy, who inexplicably started egging him on before realizing that Artest was much bigger than him; the fan who managed to sucker-punch Artest while impressively holding on to his beer at the same time; Stephen Jackson jumping into the stands to help beat up Piston fans for no reason whatsoever; the one Detroit fan who somehow got on the court, got decked by Artest, got back up, and then got decked even harder by a tumbling Jermaine O'Neal; the chair that came flying across the arena from out of nowhere; and of course, Larry Brown, standing on the court with his hands on his hips with absolutely no idea what to do, or how.

I was simultaneously fascinated and horrified. It was rather fitting to see Artest lose it while wearing Dennis Rodman's old #91, in what seemed like an homage to the kind of behavior we always expected from The Worm. And for Artest himself - getting suspended for the season just days after announcing that he would be dedicated to the Pacers for the rest of the year, and that his as-yet-unrecorded album would be profanity-free "life lessons for children" - the irony is almost too much. On the bright side, at least now he'll have plenty of time to promote his upcoming album. Maybe this was how he planned it all along.

(The most curious developments were Artest's comments after the suspension. In the midst of answering a question regarding what he was going to do without basketball for the next six months, Artest inexplicably notified us that he was "a big fan of the Nobel Peace Prize." Indeed.)

I don't know what's more depressing - the fact that it took David Stern this long to realize the NBA has an image problem, or the fact that the Indiana Pacers, without their three best players for half or all of this season, are still a practical lock for the playoffs in the hideous Eastern Conference. How bad is this conference? The Pacers' go- to guys are now Austin Croshere and Fred Jones - and they still may very well still snag one of the top four seeds. O, to be the in the Magic/Bird/MJ I era again.

As if the already-notorious league needed another black eye, Artest and Co. came through, so to speak, with flying colors. In an era when every scandal is blown out of proportion by the media, here was one so absurd, so out of control, that it actually measured up to the hype. It instantly became legend. And so what did David Stern do? Well, he banned Vince Carter's iPod, of course! (Hey, I would too after being subjected to that blasted U2 commercial for the last three months. I mean, is Bono aware that "One-Two-Three-Fourteen" doesn't make any sense? Has anyone told him this?)

But, again, I kid. Are the suspensions justified? Of course they are. Anyone who says otherwise is merely an apologist. In any other profession, he'd lose his job and never get it back (at least not with the same organization). Lost amidst all of Stern's disciplinary action are the fans who incited the riot. These guys don't just need to be prosecuted, they need to be permanently banned from every arena in the NBA - not just The Palace. Everywhere. And, for the most serious offenders, they should be forced to listen to Stephen A. Smith scream at them on TV every night.....oh, wait.....we've all been subjected to that already. Well nevermind.

The worst (funniest?) bit about the melee was the fact that Artest and Jackson attacked the wrong fans altogether. As the videotape proved, the beer came from a different area of the stands altogether - not from the little squirt in the black T-shirt who got his face shoved into his seat.

If I was him - or any of the other innocent fans who somehow got blamed for the whole thing - I'd be ready to take the NBA/Ron Artest/The Palace for all the money I could get. The first thing I'd do - after bragging to all my friends that I got punched by an NBA star, of course - is find myself a high-priced lawyer. Hey - John Edwards is available.

Copyright © 2004 by Chris Bellamy

Contact the Sports Writer