The Artest mess: talented but troubled, the Pacers forward might have cost his team its season with his leading role in the near riot in Detroit

Sporting News, The, Nov 29, 2004 by Sean Deveney

Imagine being an employee who must sit in a chair while, a few feet over each shoulder, crowds of observers loudly register their opinions, mostly negative and sometimes grossly profane. This is what NBA players do nightly. You must sit there and accept it without confronting the observers in question--the verbal abuse is just part of the job. Now imagine that abuse turns physical. Instead of hurling epithets, the observers hurl objects. Maybe a bucket of popcorn, maybe a cup of beer. This is not part of the job. This is assault. What do you do?

If you're Ron Artest, you leap to your feet, you bound into the crowd, and you find someone who might (or might not, as it turns out), be the guy who tossed his drink at you. If you're Ron Artest, you then treat that guy as if he were a too-stiff pillow--you try to pound him till he's soft. This leaves several players recognizing your actions as self-defense, a natural human instinct, but others looking at it differently.

If Artest had not gone into the stands, says Magic forward Pat Garrity, "Nothing happens. The whole thing does not happen."

Plenty happened last Friday at The Palace of Auburn Hills, when a skirmish between the Pistons and Pacers devolved into a bizarre and revolting display after Attest stormed into the crowd seeking revenge for the apparently heinous crime of being hit in the upper chest by a plastic cup. Fans and players fought in the seats and on the floor, and nearly every kind of food product available at The Palace was hurled at Pacers players. Pacers coach Rick Carlisle said he feared for his life. Pistons coach Larry Brown said it was the ugliest thing he has seen as a coach or a player. Commissioner David Stern, in a statement, called the incident, "shocking, repulsive and inexcusable--a humiliation for everyone associated with the NBA."

Blame fans. Blame alcohol. Blame a security force that was not prepared (and, realistically, could not have been prepared) for widespread chaos. But most of all, blame Artest. The NBA did, suspending him for the rest of the season--a punishment that was warranted. Restraint in the face of fan hostility is difficult but necessary. Arrest showed none. True, he was hit with an object from the stands, and the idiot who threw it should have been arrested. But it was a cup that hit him, not a brick or a Molotov cocktail. Artest apologists have pointed out that he was assaulted when he was hit, but remember: He was assaulted by a plastic cup, and he responded by administering a beating from his 246-pound body.

NBA officials were in Auburn Hills and Indianapolis the next day, interviewing players and coaches, deciding how suspensions should be doled out. The league did not go lightly on anyone, suspending nine players for a total of 143 games. After Artest, the most severe penalties were handed to Pacers Stephen Jackson (30 games), Jermaine O'Neal (25) and Anthony Johnson (five). Pistons center Ben Wallace, whose shove of Artest ignited the fracas, got six games.

Artest is the most controversial figure in the NBA and possibly in all of sports. (The brawl made Terrell Owens' Desperate Housewives skit look like an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.) Artest is an All-Star, the reigning Defensive Player of the Year and a wonderfully unique play can pour in 25 points. Yet he is a player who has harmed the Pacers more than he has helped them.

Whether you think of Artest as a victim or a menace, he has unquestionably jeopardized Indiana's chances at a championship. Artest's suspension was costly enough. But he also led O'Neal and Jackson to suspensions, costing the Pacers their three best players. When Indiana played Orlando at home the night after the Detroit melee, Indiana had just six players available and lost. The Pacers figured to battle Detroit and Miami for the East's best record.

Now they'll be fighting just to reach the playoffs. The question of what this does to the Pacers seems silly. "I think it's self-explanatory what this does," says rookie center David Harrison. "We've got six players. What do you think it does?"

The fact is, Artest has done this to his team, and if you're a talent evaluator, you must weigh his temperament against his skill. Asked if he would want Artest on his team, ESPN radio analyst and former Warriors coach Eric Musselman said, "If you know he's going to be out there 82 nights, you want him. He plays hard all the time, he's a player the opposition fears and respects. ... But when there are suspensions, your ballclub is affected. Then he becomes a distraction you don't need. What Artest did in Detroit really hurt his team."

The exercise of weighing how much Artest helps his team against how much he hurts it is not new--it has just reached a new level. Go back to Artest's days in Chicago, where his personality pushed the Bulls to trade him. He allegedly almost came to blows with coach Tim Floyd because Artest wore sweatpants on the bench while sitting out a game with an injury. Reporters in Chicago still recall with astonishment the time an angry Artest lifted and chucked a heavy stretching machine across the team's practice floor.