Ron Artest's A Series of Unfortunate Events


© Gregory Broome
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From here on, this column will tell the story of the NBA in the context of the individuals most responsible for its achievements and failures, its glory and embarrassment: the players. The cast will include the triumphant, the defeated, the bystanders to history. Unfortunately, there is no other place to begin;

RON ARTEST

A recent article on Slate.com makes the argument that the Series of Unfortunate Events (S.U.E., ironically enough) is positive for the league: "at that exact moment, millions of people were talking, probably for the first time in history, about a regular season NBA game." The assumption is that people talking about something automatically improves its value, a risky logical leap.

I liked it when Brandi Chastain took her shirt off at the World Cup, but I haven't watched a soccer game since. I know that if anything interesting happens at one, it will be placed on a continuous loop on SportsCenter.

It's rather clear that watching NBA players slug fans, while children sob and senior citizens lie prone on the ground, might meet the criteria of bad publicity.

As for Artest, I don't have the professional credentials to evaluate him. That's not a joke; I don't believe it is proper or responsible for basketball analysts to diagnosis a problem for which they are severly underinformed. If it is, ESPN should invite a panel of mental health experts to the next halftime show and have them critique Larry Brown's substitution patterns. I will instead simply cite the wisdom of Michael Wilbon and Charles Barkley, each of whom starkly pointed to Artest's need for professional help long before the S.U.E., and the failure of Isiah Thomas, Larry Bird, and other Pacer handlers, who too often chose to enable rather than confront Artest's destructive behavior. Bird and his staff do deserve credit, however, for continuing to support their player. To abandon him now would be the height of hypocrisy.

Finally, Artest's lack of judgment should have been apparent to all when he attached the fortune of his record label to Allure, and their album "Chapter III," as if anyone had read the first two chapters. It is surreal to watch Artest promote R&B's version of "Leonard Part 6."

STEPHEN JACKSON

If you were to merge the games NBA Live and Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, you'd be playing as Stephen Jackson.

FRED JONES

Here's a hypothetical question Jones likely was not asked before the S.U.E.: Would you allow a huge, intoxicated man to repeatedly punch you in the side of the head in exchange for greatly enhanced career opportunity? We'll never know what Jones would have answered; that decision was made for him. What we do know is that Jones has taken the unexpected opportunity and established himself as an exceptional NBA player.

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