Stuff Happens When the Wall Comes Down

Lying down on a scorers’ table in the middle of a game, another rich and lazy jock with a warped sense of entitlement, Ron Artest was everything fans hate about athletes.

And we wonder why someone pelted him with a Big Gulp?

Throwing that cup from the stands, another foul-mouthed fool with a warped sense of entitlement, the Detroit ticket-holder was everything athletes hate about fans.

And we wonder why Stephen Jackson ran up and punched him out?

What happened in Detroit on Friday night wasn’t surprising, it was symbolic, a vivid portrayal of what has slowly become the biggest, nastiest, saddest rivalry in sports.

Players versus fans.

They don’t like each other. They don’t respect each other. They don’t understand each other.

They criticize each other, curse each other and threaten each other, from penalty boxes in New York to bullpens in Oakland.

What happened in Detroit on Friday night, with the Indiana Pacer players and Detroit Piston fans engaging in what may be the ugliest sports brawl ever, was only the third such incident the last two months.

In September, a Texas Ranger reliever named Frank Francisco threw a chair at a fan. A couple of weeks later, Dodger outfielder Milton Bradley slammed a bottle at a fan.

Coincidental?

Ask the folks at Staples Center, where, since last season, athletes have been shielded from fans by a canopy when they leave the floor.

Isolated incident?

Ask the folks sitting behind the dugout at Dodger Stadium, where, in recent years, no amount of cheering and waving will convince the players to even look at them as they leave the field.

“The ingredients for what happened Friday night are embedded in the culture of sports in America,” said Todd Boyd, a USC professor who has written extensively on popular culture. “I’m surprised it hasn’t happened more often.”

As usual, the main ingredient is money. The players make so much money, fans have stopped identifying with them.

The players rarely mingle because they don’t need the attention. They rarely make public appearances because they don’t need the income.

The closest many fans get to players at Staples Center is to stand in the exhaust of their Mercedeses as they speed out of the parking lot.

Do you know that, despite being home to three Los Angeles pro sports teams, there is not one logical place at Staples Center to get autographs?

A fan’s only chance is to be sitting in a seat near the tunnel as the players are exiting after pregame workouts. But those are some of the costliest seats in the building, and the odds of a players stopping are rare.

“There was a time when I could go to a field in San Gabriel on a weekend and see the famous Dodger infield, they would all be there hanging out,” remembers Jim Gott, former Dodger pitcher. “But now, you never see anybody.”

To the average fan, the players have become images on video games. They’re numbers in fantasy leagues. They’re rants on talk radio. They’re not real.

“With all the money involved, the fans forget that we’re human,” said Dave Roberts, a former Dodger favorite who is now in Boston.

So that Detroit idiot who poured an entire drink on one of the Pacers as he left the floor Friday night? That cretin who threw a chair at a player in the middle of the brawl? Those fools who actually trespassed on the court and approached the Pacers in a threatening manner?

The knuckleheads probably thought the players were nothing more than bobbleheads, until those players nearly broke their heads.

“It’s as if the fans think there’s an invisible fence between themselves and the players,” said Michael Roth, a Westside health-care attorney and longtime Laker and Dodger season-ticket holder who has seen fan behavior worsen. “The fans think they’re immune from any consequences.”

As for the players, they realize that their contracts are now mostly funded by television money, not ticket money, so they have lost all feeling of indebtedness.

Fans aren’t people paying their salaries, they are overweight paparazzi.

Interesting how Artest, the most temperamental star in the league, was able to control his temper when punched in the throat by giant Ben Wallace.

Only when a cringing little fan doused him with a beverage did he lose his temper.

Artest respects Wallace. He doesn’t respect fans.

What was once an innocent baseball prank has become symbolic of a dysfunctional relationship. Have you seen it?

Players will attach a thin string to a baseball. They throw the baseball on the dugout. When a fan reaches for the ball, they pull it back.

Such is the uneasy world in which the players and fans barely coexist.

Instead of handing out souvenirs, players taunt fans with them. Instead of cheering excellence, fans are far quicker to jeer mistakes.

What a fan would never dream of doing outside the arena -- cursing someone, throwing bottles at someone -- he does inside with confidence and ease.

What a player would always do outside the arena -- helping up someone they have bumped or knocked over -- they wouldn’t dare do inside the arena.

When, indeed, is the last time you’ve seen an NBA player fly into the stands and, even though the whistle has been blown, assist any of the fans who have been capsized?

Ron Artest and Stephen Jackson need to be suspended for the rest of the season for going into the stands and punching fans.

The fans who threw things or stalked on to the Auburn Hills court need to be arrested and jailed.

The rest of us can only hold our tongue and our children until it happens again.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. For previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.