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Let NBA melee be a warning to all hecklers
Published November 23, 2004
A thoroughly delightful moment on the otherwise unsettling video of Friday night's NBA brawl at the Palace in Auburn Hills, Mich., goes by so quickly that you have to set the playback to 1/15th speed to savor it.
It comes just after Indiana Pacers forward Ron Artest has rushed crazily into the stands seeking revenge on whichever fan has thrown the cup of liquid that landed on his neck as he lay on his back on the scorer's table--an island of calm in the sea of Detroit Pistons players who are as enraged and belligerent as a flock of hillbilly cuckolds on "The Maury Povich Show."
I won't retell the whole story--the hard foul that touched off the fight on the floor and the subsequent chaos in the arena that has prompted so much amateur sociology these last few days. You know it by now.
Just enjoy with me the transformation of the slightly built fan in the dark golf shirt--several media reports have said his name is Mike Ryan--from punk loudmouth idiot jerk to terrified little wimp.
When we first catch sight of him, he has his right hand high in the air and his index finger is thrusting toward Artest, an internationally recognized taunting gesture. His left hand holds what appears to be a box of popcorn.
Police later say that Ryan didn't throw the beverage; it's still unclear exactly why Artest rushes past at least one other fan to get to him. But at that instant on the tape, he is every moron who has ever cursed out opposing players from the safety and ostensible sanctity of the sidelines.
He's Robin Ficker, the motormouth who sat behind the visitors' bench at Washington Bullets games and mercilessly heckled the other team.
He's Spike Lee, who believed that a courtside seat entitled him to be a participant in New York Knicks games.
He's Craig Bueno, the Oakland A's fan who, after his wife was struck by a folding chair thrown by a Texas Rangers relief pitcher, told reporters that he buys season tickets near the visiting bullpen so he can insult opposing players.
He's every coward, every drunk, every Big Man phony bully who thinks a ticket to a game entitles him to say whatever abusive, contemptuous belittling thing that pops into his head without risking the everyday consequences of such remarks.
In super slow-mo, Ryan's face loses its cocky self-assuredness, his eyes widen and his mouth forms a startled O in an instant as Artest's scrambling approach makes it clear he's about to smash through the imaginary protective barrier behind which obnoxious fans hide.
I imagine the thought balloon over Ryan's head in the millisecond before Artest pushes his face down hard with an open hand and the popcorn goes flying: "Hmm ... it seems he's a real person, not a cartoon character, and I couldn't mock, cuss out or taunt a real person on the street without risking severe consequences, particularly a real person who is so much bigger than I am and--mfffgggg!"
The cost in lost salary alone to Artest for this moment of apparently symbolic revenge in which his target was not seriously hurt: $5.3 million.
The value of it to those who are sick of the increasingly coarse and degrading behavior of spectators: (all together now!) priceless.
For too long, neither the leagues nor the law has taken unruly fan behavior seriously enough. In some cases, teams have actually encouraged it--passing out devices designed to distract free-throw shooters, for instance.
Whether this is a cause or just a symptom of the overall decline in sportsmanship at every level, I don't care.
Either way it's "poisonous," as NBA Commissioner David Stern put it over the weekend, and Friday's melee underscored the need for a major crackdown--zero tolerance for drunkenness, profanity and malicious heckling in the stands.
Every fan needs to have a Mike Ryan moment of realization: No matter how much you paid for your ticket or how much the athletes earn, it's gutless and disgraceful to hide behind a mob, a security guard or the protection of league rules to shout something at an opposing player you wouldn't say to his face in the parking lot.
Ideally, this can happen without any more popcorn being spilled.
The following was written by Eric Zorn, sports columnist for the Chicago Tribune. This is a rare moment when I agree with what he's written. Fans need to give players a certain level of respect when they're in the stadium.
Back in 1930, basketball games were basically played with a cage like fence going around the court to protect players from the fans. Sounds like it's time for a comeback.
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