Why Fans and Players and Playing So Rough

By Bill Saporito

As brawls goes, it was hardly the worst that sport has to offer. Europeans accustomed to soccer's bloodbaths must have been chuckling: You call that a riot? In five minutes of mayhem that was repeated thousands of times on TV, Indiana Pacers forward Ron Artest was seen leading a fast break into the stands at the Palace in Auburn Hills, Mich. Artest was charging down a local lout, John Green, who hit him with a full beverage cup after Artest got into an on-court scuffle with the Detroit Pistons' Ben Wallace. Several teammates joined Artest, punching anyone they could reach. The referees ended the game with 45.9 sec. left, and the Pacers were forced to exit through a shower of popcorn, beer and venom from Detroit fans. Nine fans were hurt, none seriously. But the rumble in Detroit quickly turned into another spectacularly American experience--bad sports behavior morphing into trash television. Booyah! Artest, apologetic but clueless, was soon appearing on the Today show promoting the rap album he had just produced, looking as though he had scheduled everything on his Palm Pilot: Friday, beat the poms-poms out of a fan; Monday, work on that p.r. campaign! Green, who has had three DUI arrests, may not be able to dribble in a straight line, but he found himself on Larry King Live arguing the cause of those who feel that buying an overpriced ticket for a sporting event is a license to spew nastiness at people guilty of possessing far more athletic talent than they do.

The riot in Detroit also set off a second battle across the country, as everyone from sports-radio yakkers to families gathered for Thanksgiving dinner tried to assign blame for the rise of incivility in spectator sports--the athletes or the fans? Call it a jump ball. It's easy to view Artest and Wallace as typical modern athletes: too wealthy and too self-involved. Traveling in chartered jets, surrounded by hangers- on, coddled by agents, they have more in common with CEOs than ordinary Joes. But the distance between athletes and the people who pay to see them may be increasing out of necessity. Some fans who were once happy to cheer for the home team have now turned every contest into a hatefest. Opposing players must be verbally eviscerated, their personal problems made fodder for derision. Home-team players who don't measure up aren't spared either. And the fans are hardly discouraged by arena managers happy to sell them overpriced booze and pump up the atmosphere with lasers and loud music. So does the fault lie in our stars or in ourselves?

NBA commissioner David Stern was outraged by his players. He suspended Artest for the rest of the season, costing him some $5.5 million in lost wages. Indiana's Stephen Jackson, who accompanied him into the stands, was docked 30 games, and Jermaine O'Neal, who clocked one fan from a running start, got 25. (Anthony Johnson, another Pacer, got a five-game rest; Detroit's Wallace, whose shove of Artest set off the chain of events, was iced for six.) The NBA Players Association has appealed Artest's suspension as unreasonable. Oakland County, Mich., authorities are reviewing game and security tapes to determine what charges may be filed against Pacers and fans, although it's not likely that anything beyond a misdemeanor will result. Lawyers for injured fans like Mike Ryan, a 5-ft. 9-in. pilot who was clocked by Artest, are already putting on the full-court press.

But Stern wants the fight to set off a national debate about what he calls the "social contract" between fans and players, which seems to have been voided. "Over the years, at all sporting events, there's developed a combination of things," says Stern. "First, the professional heckler, who feels empowered to spend the entire game directing his attention to disturbing the other team at any decibel level, at any vocabulary. Then, an ongoing permissiveness that runs the gamut from college kids who don't wear shirts and paint their faces and think that liberates them to say anything, to NBA fans who use language that is not suitable to family occasions."

How did fan behavior become so vile? Practice. In cities like Boston, New York and Philadelphia, fans are notorious for their raucous behavior. Emotions in Yankees-Red Sox games get so high that during the closing innings of the sixth game of this year's play-offs, when police had to ring the field, veteran fans scarcely batted an eye. In Philadelphia, fans frustrated by the team's awful play once famously booed Santa Claus during half time. Behavior at Eagles games got so bad that officials seven years ago set up an on-site court in Veterans Stadium--with a jail--to handle the worst offenders. Eagles president Joe Banner says the jail only "moderately improved" behavior at the Vet; it took a move to a new stadium, with a high-tech security system equipped with 100 cameras to spot trouble, to quiet things down, at least for now.

Baseball was birthed by brutes, on the field and off. Games in the late 19th century and early 20th century were filled with violence, from Ty Cobb barreling into second base with spikes flying to crowds storming the field. Still, fans pretty much calmed down until fairly recent times. In a 2002 game between the Chicago White Sox and the Kansas City Royals, a father-son combo leaped out of the Comiskey Park stands and for no apparent reason attacked Kansas City first-base coach Tom Gamboa. This year, another fan at Comiskey tried to tackle umpire Laz Diaz. "There is no question--you can ask any coach on any team, they would concur--that the anger in the voice of this small percentage of fans has escalated," says Gamboa. "I have no idea when this started, but there are some people now, when they pay for a sports event, instead of watching it, they feel like they're entitled to partake in it."

Wharton School professor Ken Shropshire, who has written several sports books, including In Black and White: Race and Sports in America, thinks change in the way fans relate to their teams is fueled by everything from close-up TV coverage to video games. "With the realistic, violent sports video games and the pervasiveness of sports on television, there's closeness, and fans feel they're actually part of this thing now," he says. "From a marketing aspect, all the major sports convey that fans are right in the middle. So they feel they should be part of the game."

Many commentators have delicately cited race as a factor in the brawl (all the players involved were black, most of the fans white), but Shropshire argues that race is less a factor than it was during the 1970s, when the predominance of black players in the NBA gained widespread attention--not to mention in an earlier era when black players in any sport were a novelty. "Look at what Jackie Robinson had to endure," Shropshire says. "For three years, he never went into the stands, and the abuse hurled at that time was more severe. A small percentage of fans have forever done the wrong thing. It's up to the individual athletes to decide to do the right thing."

A bigger factor, says Shropshire, may be the class differences between fans and players, particularly as star salaries soar ever higher. "The working-class guy who has pulled together the money to go to that game is spending a significant portion of his income," he says. "And the most visible thing he sees is that his money is going to the salaries of these players." Stern calls that ridiculous, arguing that fans still consider athletes their heroes. (Just look at this year's Boston Red Sox.) "Nobody is saying Shaq [O'Neal] and Kevin Garnett don't deserve the salaries they get," he says. "Because they are MVP candidates, and they never let up."

For their part, most NBA players insist that they either ignore the abuse or use it as motivation. "The hostile arenas make the game fun," says New York Knicks guard Allan Houston. "They make you want to hit a big shot so you can silence them." Houston, one of the league's gentlemen, admits, "As a player, it's hard not to go after some people, but you have to be a bigger person than that. If you hold back, it makes them look bad. It puts the stain on them."

In some respects, the fans are just taking a cue from the players. Beating the opposition isn't good enough; in-your-face humiliation is preferable. Profane language among players on the court got so pervasive that the NBA had to make it a violation. In football, the NFL has started calling penalties against players for taunting and excessively celebrating after touchdowns. Still, it's players like Philadelphia receiver Terrell Owens--who trampled the Dallas Cowboys logo after a touchdown this fall--who get most of the attention, since their antics are replayed and reinforced on ESPN and sports talk shows.

Mix those strutting pros and hardened fans in today's hoop arenas, and the chemistry is ripe for agitation. Games aren't mere athletic contests; they are in-your-face productions. Laser-light-show introductions, clatter-making Thunder Stix and scoreboard exhortations for more noise contribute to an atmosphere of confrontation. Players shooting free throws used to be accorded an almost respectful silence. Now fans attempt to distract them by jeering and waving towels. It doesn't work, but that doesn't stop the fans' behavior.

Alcohol, of course, plays a part too. In the NFL, serious tailgaters fuel up before they even enter the stadium. Many teams are sponsored in part by a brewer, and beer sales make up a significant percentage of a stadium's concession revenues--a spigot that teams are not eager to cut off. Still, to head off trouble, most basketball and football venues stop selling beer by the end of the third quarter (as does the Palace in Auburn Hills).

The obnoxiousness isn't limited to pro sports either. Many college venues take great pride in their lack of hospitality for visiting teams. At Duke University the denizens of the Cameron Indoor Stadium, known as the Cameron Crazies, specialize in personal taunts that often cross the line. They once showered condoms on a Maryland player who had been accused of sexual assault. Last season they dangled chicken nuggets on a fishing pole near chunky Tar Heels center Sean May. The Crazies are "an integral part of our success," says Duke assistant athletic director of communication Jon Jackson. "The Crazies have had fun without being abusive." Some fun.

Many commentators see the general decline in sports behavior as consistent with falling standards in society as a whole. What do we expect of sports fans in a nation where episodes of humiliation, greed and win-at-all-costs behavior (from Survivor to My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss) pass for family entertainment? "Incivility, boorishness and crassness are everywhere in the idiot culture that we live in," says veteran NBC sportscaster Bob Costas. "And yet we celebrate all this as edginess. This behavior is encouraged."

Meanwhile, back on the court, the Pacers, even with three of their best players suspended, went on to win three of their next four games, while Detroit, the defending NBA champion, is struggling to regain its championship form. The two teams will meet again this season--in Indianapolis on Christmas Day. They are not likely to be exchanging gifts. --With reporting by Peter Bailey and Sean Gregory/New York, Joseph R. Szczesny/ Detroit and David Thigpen/Chicago

With reporting by Peter Bailey; Sean Gregory/New York; Joseph R. Szczesny/ Detroit; David Thigpen/Chicago