ILV
Bench
Ailene Voisin: Ron vs. Ron
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Tuesday, January 31, 2006
The Kings are expecting a lot from a guy with a horrible reputation. They are asking Ron Artest to tame his inner beast, in essence, to perform with the ferocity of an All-Star while behaving like the perfect gentleman. They want him to sip from the Kings' Kool-Aid dispenser (see Chris Webber) whenever he feels the urge to, say, kick a water cooler, assault a television monitor or wave a finger to the crowd.
Behavior modification, not a miracle. That's the goal.
No more brawls. No more tantrums. No more vacation requests to pursue other interests. No more suspensions. Just play the game and collect the paycheck, and if his obsession with defense becomes contagious and his teammates respond with a playoff sprint, all the other stuff - all the bad stuff - will be conveniently and permanently forgotten.
So why would anyone suggest any of this is possible?
Because Artest is two people. Because the man known as Ron-Ron is a split decision. One Ron engages in all sorts of crazy activity, even ignites a brawl that leads to the most severe penalty ever assessed by NBA Commissioner David Stern, while the other Ron is so well-liked, is regarded as such a genuinely kind and compassionate human being, that in the aftermath of last week's Artest-Peja Stojakovic trade, members of the Pacers' organization continue to experience conflicting and powerful sentiments. According to team president Larry Bird, their immense relief is tempered by a tremendous sense of loss, perhaps even a sense of failure.
"He's just a great kid," an impassioned Bird said Monday during a lengthy conversation. "That's why this was so hard. We tried to do the best we could. Ronnie's got a lot of things going on, a lot of pressures. But he seemed like he was doing well.
"After the (Nov. 19, 2004) brawl, he would look you in the eye, get more in-depth in his conversations. I felt he was on the road to recovery. It (Artest's trade demands) really caught me by surprise."
Complicating the Artest puzzle are several lesser-known pieces to a personality that contrast sharply with his public image. The sound bites, for instance, seldom mention he is one of the league's most generous players, that he financially sponsors youngsters at the prestigious Five-Star development camp, conducts basketball clinics near the projects where he grew up in Queensbridge, N.Y., signs autographs willingly, mingles with fans routinely, and has a soft spot for the underprivileged.
Artest and his wife, Kimsha, already the parents of four children, also plan to adopt another child this summer because they feel compelled to share their wealth and comfortable lifestyle; race and gender are said to be irrelevant.
"You can learn a lot about a person by going back to where they're from," said Brad Miller, a close friend and former teammate of Artest in Chicago and Indianapolis, "and when I spent an afternoon with Ronnie one day during our (Pacers) playoffs against New Jersey, it was pretty amazing. We'd be walking around, and everybody knew him. This window, that window, people were yelling, 'Go get them, Ron.' He was just down to earth and nice to everybody. I realized right then what a good person he was."
But Artest is also an unfiltered and uncensored monologue, inclined to say whatever he thinks at a particular moment. Issues inevitably arise because he is known to change his mind a few minutes later. Though he chafed in Rick Carlisle's structured offense, for instance, several of those close to the situation doubt he ever really wanted to relocate, that as he stated only weeks earlier, he wanted to live in his adopted hometown of Indianapolis forever.
Yet when speculation erupted in December about a possible swap for Stojakovic, Artest arrived at the Pacers' ensuing game dressed in a purple suit. Asked by a beat writer to explain his choice of colors, the seventh-year pro allowed that he was receptive to joining the Kings if given an opportunity to speak first with Geoff Petrie, and Joe and Gavin Maloof. He just didn't want to be ignored. He feared becoming an afterthought and, somewhat ironically, the matter spiraling out of his control.
"Ron's issues are emotional," offered Pacers CEO Donnie Walsh, "not biological, and like I told Geoff (Petrie), I think the big incidents are behind him. We just reached a point where we had to move on. Our team had become gun-shy. The last time (trade demand), I remember thinking, there was no way I could bring him back. But Sacramento is getting one hell of a player."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Artest can become an addiction. The more you watch him, the more you want to see. Bird on Monday described his former star as "the most unique player I've ever seen," and then proceeded to gush about his skills.
"You look at him," the Hall of Fame forward continued, "and his shot is off-balance, he gets into people going into the lane, hits tough shots. And defensively ... I told Ronnie the only guy he can't shut down (laugh) is Bonzi Wells. Bonzi always killed him."
At 6-foot-7 and 260 pounds, Artest is shorter and thicker than the sinewy Dennis Rodman, the player with whom he most often is compared. He has wide hips and powerful shoulders, thick hamstrings and a slight bow to his lower legs. His low center of gravity, coupled with instinct and anticipation, allow him to consistently hit the floor for loose balls faster than his opponents. And his hands are so sneaky-quick he remains a constant threat to lead the league in steals.
Yet what most distinguishes Artest, 26, from so many of his peers - apart from the outbursts and assorted sorry deeds - is his unbridled, if undisciplined, desire to be great and his willingness to outwit and outwork his opponents. Therein lies the root of lingering leaguewide infatuation. Low-post skills can be taught. Perimeter shooting can improve. But love of the game? Passion for the rebound, for the steal, for the deciding play?
That comes from within, from the heart, and sometimes, as Artest himself allows, from the streets.
"To do well on the playgrounds of New York," he said, "you have to have the basketball. Everybody just stands out there and dribbles. You gotta go get the ball. Growing up I did a little of everything. I was always tall. But I don't know why it is. I just always loved playing defense."
His versatility earned him a scholarship to St. John's; his development resulted in an opportunity with the Bulls, who selected him with the 16th pick in the 1999 NBA draft. His subsequent troubles factored into his trade (almost as a throw-in because the Pacers wanted Miller) to Indiana in February 2002. His subsequent issues - among them an alleged domestic altercation with a former girlfriend - led to a laundry list of suspensions and lengthy absences: Three games for smashing video equipment in New York; four games for confronting Pat Riley on the sidelines; one game for demolishing a framed picture of himself in Conseco Fieldhouse; one game for a flagrant foul on his new teammate, Wells.
On and on it goes, culminating in the Pacers-Pistons brawl at the Palace of Auburn Hills and, ultimately, his dispatch last week to the left coast.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the Kings slumping miserably and the Maloofs pushing hard for a shake-up, Petrie two weeks ago instructed Jerry Reynolds to contact fellow French Lick, Ind., native Bird and inquire about Artest. What Petrie learned - aside from the obvious, namely, that Artest is a superior talent with a checkered history - is that the Pacers went to great lengths in their pursuit of stability. Before Artest was ordered by the league to undergo anger management counseling in the aftermath of the brawl, in fact, team officials had enlisted input from medical and psychology experts, and for years Indiana has had a sports therapist on staff.
And it wasn't enough. The counseling. The coaxing. The coddling. The tough love near the end.
"But people change," Artest said. "I've been through so much. I've played something like 16 games in 1 1/2 years. The people of Sacramento will see. I just want to play. Emotionally, I think I am ready to do this."
About the writer: The Bee's Ailene Voisin can be reached at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com.
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Tuesday, January 31, 2006
The Kings are expecting a lot from a guy with a horrible reputation. They are asking Ron Artest to tame his inner beast, in essence, to perform with the ferocity of an All-Star while behaving like the perfect gentleman. They want him to sip from the Kings' Kool-Aid dispenser (see Chris Webber) whenever he feels the urge to, say, kick a water cooler, assault a television monitor or wave a finger to the crowd.
Behavior modification, not a miracle. That's the goal.
No more brawls. No more tantrums. No more vacation requests to pursue other interests. No more suspensions. Just play the game and collect the paycheck, and if his obsession with defense becomes contagious and his teammates respond with a playoff sprint, all the other stuff - all the bad stuff - will be conveniently and permanently forgotten.
So why would anyone suggest any of this is possible?
Because Artest is two people. Because the man known as Ron-Ron is a split decision. One Ron engages in all sorts of crazy activity, even ignites a brawl that leads to the most severe penalty ever assessed by NBA Commissioner David Stern, while the other Ron is so well-liked, is regarded as such a genuinely kind and compassionate human being, that in the aftermath of last week's Artest-Peja Stojakovic trade, members of the Pacers' organization continue to experience conflicting and powerful sentiments. According to team president Larry Bird, their immense relief is tempered by a tremendous sense of loss, perhaps even a sense of failure.
"He's just a great kid," an impassioned Bird said Monday during a lengthy conversation. "That's why this was so hard. We tried to do the best we could. Ronnie's got a lot of things going on, a lot of pressures. But he seemed like he was doing well.
"After the (Nov. 19, 2004) brawl, he would look you in the eye, get more in-depth in his conversations. I felt he was on the road to recovery. It (Artest's trade demands) really caught me by surprise."
Complicating the Artest puzzle are several lesser-known pieces to a personality that contrast sharply with his public image. The sound bites, for instance, seldom mention he is one of the league's most generous players, that he financially sponsors youngsters at the prestigious Five-Star development camp, conducts basketball clinics near the projects where he grew up in Queensbridge, N.Y., signs autographs willingly, mingles with fans routinely, and has a soft spot for the underprivileged.
Artest and his wife, Kimsha, already the parents of four children, also plan to adopt another child this summer because they feel compelled to share their wealth and comfortable lifestyle; race and gender are said to be irrelevant.
"You can learn a lot about a person by going back to where they're from," said Brad Miller, a close friend and former teammate of Artest in Chicago and Indianapolis, "and when I spent an afternoon with Ronnie one day during our (Pacers) playoffs against New Jersey, it was pretty amazing. We'd be walking around, and everybody knew him. This window, that window, people were yelling, 'Go get them, Ron.' He was just down to earth and nice to everybody. I realized right then what a good person he was."
But Artest is also an unfiltered and uncensored monologue, inclined to say whatever he thinks at a particular moment. Issues inevitably arise because he is known to change his mind a few minutes later. Though he chafed in Rick Carlisle's structured offense, for instance, several of those close to the situation doubt he ever really wanted to relocate, that as he stated only weeks earlier, he wanted to live in his adopted hometown of Indianapolis forever.
Yet when speculation erupted in December about a possible swap for Stojakovic, Artest arrived at the Pacers' ensuing game dressed in a purple suit. Asked by a beat writer to explain his choice of colors, the seventh-year pro allowed that he was receptive to joining the Kings if given an opportunity to speak first with Geoff Petrie, and Joe and Gavin Maloof. He just didn't want to be ignored. He feared becoming an afterthought and, somewhat ironically, the matter spiraling out of his control.
"Ron's issues are emotional," offered Pacers CEO Donnie Walsh, "not biological, and like I told Geoff (Petrie), I think the big incidents are behind him. We just reached a point where we had to move on. Our team had become gun-shy. The last time (trade demand), I remember thinking, there was no way I could bring him back. But Sacramento is getting one hell of a player."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Artest can become an addiction. The more you watch him, the more you want to see. Bird on Monday described his former star as "the most unique player I've ever seen," and then proceeded to gush about his skills.
"You look at him," the Hall of Fame forward continued, "and his shot is off-balance, he gets into people going into the lane, hits tough shots. And defensively ... I told Ronnie the only guy he can't shut down (laugh) is Bonzi Wells. Bonzi always killed him."
At 6-foot-7 and 260 pounds, Artest is shorter and thicker than the sinewy Dennis Rodman, the player with whom he most often is compared. He has wide hips and powerful shoulders, thick hamstrings and a slight bow to his lower legs. His low center of gravity, coupled with instinct and anticipation, allow him to consistently hit the floor for loose balls faster than his opponents. And his hands are so sneaky-quick he remains a constant threat to lead the league in steals.
Yet what most distinguishes Artest, 26, from so many of his peers - apart from the outbursts and assorted sorry deeds - is his unbridled, if undisciplined, desire to be great and his willingness to outwit and outwork his opponents. Therein lies the root of lingering leaguewide infatuation. Low-post skills can be taught. Perimeter shooting can improve. But love of the game? Passion for the rebound, for the steal, for the deciding play?
That comes from within, from the heart, and sometimes, as Artest himself allows, from the streets.
"To do well on the playgrounds of New York," he said, "you have to have the basketball. Everybody just stands out there and dribbles. You gotta go get the ball. Growing up I did a little of everything. I was always tall. But I don't know why it is. I just always loved playing defense."
His versatility earned him a scholarship to St. John's; his development resulted in an opportunity with the Bulls, who selected him with the 16th pick in the 1999 NBA draft. His subsequent troubles factored into his trade (almost as a throw-in because the Pacers wanted Miller) to Indiana in February 2002. His subsequent issues - among them an alleged domestic altercation with a former girlfriend - led to a laundry list of suspensions and lengthy absences: Three games for smashing video equipment in New York; four games for confronting Pat Riley on the sidelines; one game for demolishing a framed picture of himself in Conseco Fieldhouse; one game for a flagrant foul on his new teammate, Wells.
On and on it goes, culminating in the Pacers-Pistons brawl at the Palace of Auburn Hills and, ultimately, his dispatch last week to the left coast.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the Kings slumping miserably and the Maloofs pushing hard for a shake-up, Petrie two weeks ago instructed Jerry Reynolds to contact fellow French Lick, Ind., native Bird and inquire about Artest. What Petrie learned - aside from the obvious, namely, that Artest is a superior talent with a checkered history - is that the Pacers went to great lengths in their pursuit of stability. Before Artest was ordered by the league to undergo anger management counseling in the aftermath of the brawl, in fact, team officials had enlisted input from medical and psychology experts, and for years Indiana has had a sports therapist on staff.
And it wasn't enough. The counseling. The coaxing. The coddling. The tough love near the end.
"But people change," Artest said. "I've been through so much. I've played something like 16 games in 1 1/2 years. The people of Sacramento will see. I just want to play. Emotionally, I think I am ready to do this."
About the writer: The Bee's Ailene Voisin can be reached at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com.
Last edited by a moderator:
