So, while I was at home this weekend, Ron Artest et al completely lost it (to say nothing of my two home college-football teams.) Clearly, Artest, Stephen Jackson, and Jermaine O’Neil should never have broken that inviolate line between the court and the bleachers of (rude, inebriated, schmuckish, asking-for-it) Piston fans…but we already knew Artest was a terminal head case. Now, he’s gone for the year, and, for once, I have to say I concur with the crashing-down of David Stern’s iron fist. This cannot happen again.
That being said, while I thought it was interesting to see normally sports-agnostic sites like Drudge suddenly take on the mantle of shocked-and-appalled basketball enthusiasts, I can’t say I see the fracas in Detroit as the end of the NBA, or of Western Civilization in general, for that matter. Then again, I wasn’t all that perturbed by last week’s MNF intro either, so perhaps I’m just a reflection of the sad consequences of a too-permissive society.
Perhaps the strangest fact of that night in Detroit? Rasheed Wallace didn’t get in any trouble (although he’s now making up for lost time.) Ah well, in happier NBA news, at least the no-D-playing, .500 Knickerbockers are inexplicably in first in the awful, awful Atlantic right now.