Great Defender Artest Can’t Defend This One

That was the night the lights went out in Detroit, only this time there were no innocent men.

The NBA has been embarrassed a few times, for example this summer, when Great Grandson of Dream Team managed a third-place finish in the Olympics, or last summer, when Kobe Bryant was arrested, or the ‘60s, when Wilt Chamberlain did a piece for Sports Illustrated titled, “My Life in a Bush League.”

But everything pales before Friday night’s near riot, when all the systems designed to confine the emotion that’s part of the game to the floor, melted down.

Not that it’s hard to figure out whom to blame:

1. Ron Artest, for going into the stands.

2. The crazed fans, especially the two guys in Piston jerseys, one of whom actually squared off on the 6-foot-7, 245-pound Artest and got his lights punched out. The other one jumped on Artest, wrestled with an Indiana assistant coach and was slugged by Jermaine O’Neal after a 20-foot running start.

As to why the two fans placed themselves in that position, I’m guessing it’s underage drinking and/or listening to one gangsta album too many.

3. Detroit security, which must have been at Dunkin’ Donuts.

Of course, without No. 1, you wouldn’t have had Nos. 2 and 3.

It all goes back to Artest, the tightly wound Pacer forward who fouled Detroit’s Ben Wallace from behind, precipitating their brief fight and the two minutes of milling around that served as the tinderbox for this bonfire of vanities.

If no one knew they could go so low, Artest has been practicing for this his whole life.

In Chicago, he was prescribed medication -- which he wouldn’t take -- and became so difficult, the Bulls traded him. After all his adventures in Indiana, the Pacers thought about trading him last summer even though he had become one of the game’s best players.

Anger bubbles deep within Artest and who knows what else? It was only two weeks ago that he asked for a month off to promote a rap album he produced for the label he owns, in another of his Ron-to-Earth communiques.

He was benched, with pay -- that made eight suspensions in three seasons -- but nothing will keep him from being Ron Artest. That means he averages 20 points and is one of the great defenders, but he’s so competitive, he cheap-shots every opponent going to the basket, which is why Wallace got so upset.

It wasn’t that the foul was so dirty. It was that, with Indiana leading by 15 and 49 seconds left, it was so unnecessary. Because the teams are bitter rivals and the Pistons had already learned to hate Artest, it was Go Time.

The “fight” was just a two-handed shove to Artest’s throat, after which Artest, who’s shrewd if not quite together, backed away, knowing Wallace would get the suspension and he’d get nothing.

That’s the irony of what is normally called “violence in the NBA” -- there’s almost none.

If it appears that there is, it’s because David Stern hands down such Draconian sentences, it turns little scrums into big stories. Actual fighting -- trading punches -- effectively ended years ago. Compared to the brawls in hockey (back in the day, when it existed) and the dugout-emptying baseball, the NBA is like Sunnybrook Farm.

However, life as the NBA knew it was about to change. Artest, who was lying on the press table, was hit by a plastic cup and went berserk.

Of course, fans can’t do that, but crowd behavior is bizarre. There are few fans who wouldn’t be shocked if they knew how savage a crowd sounds, from the other side.

In an ESPN poll in the aftermath of this incident, 19% of the respondents said they’d had too much to drink at a game. Given the people who have but are in denial or too ashamed to admit it, that’s a disturbing number.

Artest and all professional athletes work in this zoo-like setting, in which there is one overriding rule:

You can’t ever go in the stands.

It doesn’t matter if you’re right. It’s not just that if you go in the stands, Stern will suspend you until your next birthday and it will cost you such a big piece of your $70-million contract, you’ll actually feel it.

You can’t go into the stands because if you do, everything breaks down.

What we call “security” at our games, which are, thank heaven, not like English soccer, is actually a token force that proceeds on one assumption:

Everybody will stay on his own side.

The players are going to stay on the floor. The fans are going to stay in the stands.

In this context, what Artest did wasn’t self-defense, but payback. He was upset at having a drink thrown at him, but he wasn’t in danger. If he had the sense God gave a goose, he’d have figured out that if he could sit still for Wallace shoving him in the throat, he could sit still for having a drink thrown at him, which would be preferable to starting a riot.

By the way, on top of everything else, it looks as though Artest got the wrong kid.

On the bright side for that kid, if he wasn’t the one, he’s looking at a $100,000 out-of-court settlement from Artest, minimum. If you think there are a lot of cops going over the videotapes, it’s nothing compared to the lawyers.

Things then devolved into the nightmare that will haunt the NBA: One of Wallace’s brothers -- the heavyset man in the gray shirt -- punching Indiana’s Fred Jones from behind.... Someone throwing a chair at O’Neal.... Cops using pepper spray.... Fans drenching every Pacer who went up the runway.... Jamaal Tinsley coming back down the runway, brandishing some kind of long-handled hammer.

Worst of all, there was Darvin Ham’s young son, crying in the arms of a friend.

The thing everybody had better remember is how quickly a crowd becomes a mob, which is what this one in the Palace of Auburn Hills became, to its everlasting shame. Hopefully, lots of faces were caught on videotape and they’ll all be arrested.

This might be more than embarrassing, or as Stern called it, “humiliating,” or as ESPN’s Bill Walton called it, “the lowest point for me in my 30 years in the NBA.”

This might pose long-term problems that go far beyond the troubles of one dizzy Indiana forward.

Because the Indiana players can claim self-defense, they might not accept their share of the responsibility.

Because union head Billy Hunter has to take cognizance of his membership’s feelings, the union could oppose Stern’s sentences, as it opposed Latrell Sprewell’s.

(We got a preview from ESPN’s hyperventilating “Shoot-Around Crew,” which blamed the whole thing on the unruly fans and called on the union to back the players.)

There was already great mistrust between the league and the union as this contract expires. There was no actual issue separating them before, but this could become one.

If Stern locks the players out, the situation could turn as dire as the NHL’s is now.

Actually, at this point, a year off might be a good idea.

It’s hard to remember the days when everyone felt they were in it together, when Magic Johnson talked about that torch he got from Julius Erving and wanted to hand to Michael Jordan.

Now that torch is forgotten and never mentioned any more. Now they pick a team to represent the U.S. in the Olympics and all but two guys drop off.

Maybe a year off would help everyone appreciate what they have, because now it’s every man for himself. Artest just happened to veer into the stands and everyone followed.

It was fitting. A leader for today: Ron Artest.