Domestic Unbliss, New Style, Part II

On Tuesday the 16th, I read and commented herein about an article I'd read on FoxSports.com vis-a-vis fans harassing a CFL kicker whose overtime miss cost his team a playoff game. The harassment involved not only eggs thrown at the house and manure dumped on the lawn but threats to the man's family. I opined that the fact that beer is as much to blame as is stupidity, and when someone is stupid and inebbriated, the combination is not only dangerous but volatile, unpredictable and always -- ALWAYS -- bad.

Then, Friday night, while my girlfriend and I attended a party, I noticed out of the corner of my eye (on the bar's huge-screen TV's) that Ron Artest of the Indiana Pacers (of the NBA) had been involved in a melee, which is a polite way of saying he acted like an asshole on national television. Apparently, Artest's Pacers were leading by a lot when, with five minutes left in the game, one of the opposing players (Ben Wallace of the NBA-Champion Detroit Pistons) gave him a shove during an attempted layup which resulted in a flagrant foul call. Subsequently, he and Wallace began shoving and that's when things got out of hand.

While Artest excised himself from the situation by walking to center court and ceremonoiusly lying on the scorer's table, a fan tossed a full cup of beer at him which, apparently, hit him in the head. Then, the next few minutes were a cavalcade of excitement: Artest bolted into the stands looking for the culprit, and as he did he was throwing punches wildly at whoever was in his way. Finally he began hitting someone and then a teammate of his (Jermaine O'Neal) got involved. Then, as Artest made his way onto the court to leave the arena floor (the game had been called with time remaining) he encountered a GWD (goofy white dude) replete with Pistons jersey and -- you guessed it -- a full cup of beer. They had words and Artest dropped him with a punch to the face. World Wide Basketball Wrestling.

Next, another fan was on the court and another Pistons player began pummeling him. In all, I counted four fans that got assaulted as Artest made his way from the arena. If nothing else, the next time he graces Detroit with his presence ought to be more memorable than the first showdown between former teammates Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant, no?

Seeing the visceral play-by-play on television Friday night, it's not hard to wonder where the lines are drawn or wonder if they remain between what's appropriate and what's inappropriate. The sickening, magnetic pull of seeing Artest clock a fan trash-talking courtside is as bad as seeing hockey players climbing into the stands after fans taunted their bench and threw things as well. Is any of this appropriate? Of course not. Is it entertaining? Family-safe? Worthwhile?

I'm far from a wet blanket -- I certainly don't have anything against people consuming alcohol nor do I have disdain for people having fun. It just seems that this problem -- the tenuous balance of entertainment and alcohol and violence -- is careening farther into the black. Do any of us really want to see fans getting abused by -- or verbally abusing -- players? The more this occurs the more it reminds me of an Arnold Schwarzenegger film (based on a Steven King short story) entitled The Running Man, in which an innocent man is framed and forced to participate in a horrific game show which depicts various scenarios in which he is supposed to die. The "entertainment" part of it occurs as he tries to run from the game show "staff" who are trying to kill him, and the involvement is the public who want him crucified for an atrocious act he didn't commit.

I'm certainly not defending Ron Artest -- and I regard NBA players these days as Don Imus has on occasion regarded the New York Knicks -- carjackers in shorts. A lot of NBA players thrive or seek the "bad-boy" reputation. Artest, incidentally, was recently in the news over his disinterest in playing basketball this season because he wanted to cut a rap album and promote it. Guess he got his wish on both counts -- coincidentally so. It seems, though, that anytime the inmates begin to get ahold of the asylum, the entire institution dies. Whether it's a work stoppage (hockey, ahem) or players assaulting fans in the stands, there is a fine line which blurs and dissipates all at once. And on Friday night, that line, that blurry, barely-there, fading line -- was crossed by Artest, and he never looked back.

In retrospect, I remember the "good old days" (if I'm permitted to be nostalgic for a moment) when my father and I went to baseball games and there were no rampant vulgarities in the stands (unless the Yankees blew a double-digit lead) and the feel in the ballpark was like a picnic for 52,000. Since salaries have escalated from "He's making how many millions per season?" to "He's making how many millions per GAME?" and alcohol fuels the middle inning boredom and ADD of the American collective society (and the MTV generation), it seems like our problems are spiraling into dark territory. If I had a son or daughter and brought him or her to that game and watched what I saw on that television that night, it would be the last time I'd see NBA basketball. And perhaps this episode has been a portend of things to come, and perhaps I'd already seen this episode on the horizon -- I gave up on watching basketball because thugs playing the modern game of basketball doesn't interest me. I just wonder how much ridiculous salaries paid to uneducated, uncaring, irresponsible, disrespectful imbeciles who play in front of angry, dissatisfied, vicarious-living, inebbriated imbeciles can help us as a culture, let alone as sports fans. And more importantly, I wonder when that line -- that blurry, fading, barely-there line -- will get crossed again.