Bunker Mulligan "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." ~Mark Twain

So, the fight last Friday night at an NBA game is supposed to tell us something about the gangsta level of mentality in professional basketball. Folks, let me clue you in. That mentality exists right now in your local youth sports program all the way through high school–in your town. If you don’t see it, you are either living in Smalltown or ignoring it. I wish I was speaking in generalities, but I’m not. I’ve been involved in youth athletics in every age group from smallest to NCAA Division I college. And I’ve had that involvement in a wide variety of cities and demographics.

Kids with standout althletic ability are quickly singled out for hero treatment. If Mom and Dad have their own feet firmly on the ground, and their heads screwed on straight, the youngster will keep the ego in check and grow up just fine. But even among parents who are normally sane, there are some who live an athletic career vicariously through their child, and others who see that kid as a meal ticket for their retirement. Some of these kids will grow up with a strong sense of entitlement, and anyone not impressed with them and impolitic enough to express it are viewed as enemies in the extreme, or “disrespectful” in the least. There is a direct relationship between self-perceived talent and this mentality.

You know the kids I’m talking about. You’ve seen them on the local all-star team. It’s a rare local all-star team that doesn’t have at least one. In Little League, you will see this kid puff up at a pitcher if he gets hit by a pitch. By high school, he may actually charge the mound. They become the “Leon” archetype we see in commercials–any failure is due to someone else’s incompetence. You hear about lack of self-confidence manifesting itself with outrageous behavior. The opposite is more likely to be the cause.

Fans are yet another issue. And it becomes a volitile combination in confrontation. “I paid fifty bucks for this seat, and I’m entitled to express my opinion in any way I feel necessary.” Especially after ten beers. I don’t understand it myself. I go to a game to enjoy seeing good competition and talented play. I may be in the minority, but I see myself as being outside the game. When I played, I can’t remember even hearing the crowd, let alone individual voices. Why would my ego make me believe I had something to offer players much more skilled than I ever was?

I’ve tried through the years to do my part and help talented kids learn that their skills are something to be grateful for, and something to be built upon. Talent can open doors, but it takes much more than pure athletic talent to succeed. And any athlete, no matter how talented, is just one injury away from the end of his career. And it can come at any level. Done. Forever. No multi-million dollar contract.

Ron Artest may now be the poster child for throwing it all away.