Video: Malice at the Palace was 10 years ago today

What happened that night went well beyond nearly $10 million in forfeited paychecks and 146 games lost in suspensions. The melee transformed the Pacers from a Finals contender into a fringe playoff team and, eventually, a hopeless lottery case. Artest commenced a bizarre journey that took him from being one of the country’s most loathed athletes to Metta World Peace. The careers of Stephen Jackson and Jermaine O’Neal were forever tainted by split-second decisions that no human could have possibly premeditated. The media debated security, fan behavior, and the tenuous relationship between players and spectators for weeks. It represented the NBA’s worst nightmare: confirmation of the broad-stroke stereotype that its athletes were spoiled thugs. There were roughly half a dozen elements that caused that brawl to happen, says Mark Montieth, who covered the Pacers for the Indianapolis Star. If Artest doesn’t make that hard foul on Ben Wallace, it doesn’t happen. If Ben Wallace doesn’t react the way he did, it doesn’t happen. If the referees control the situation, it doesn’t happen. If Artest doesn’t go lay down on that scorer’s table, it doesn’t happen. If the fan doesn’t throw the beverage, it doesn’t happen. There was a continuation there, a succession of things. You take away any one of them and the whole thing doesn’t happen.

It felt like anarchy, and it was unnerving, from where I sat anyway, just off the court, mere feet from Ron Artest as he lay on the scorer’s table. Even in a moment like that, when the Indiana Pacers forward’s behavior began to morph from flaky to worrisome, the idea that he’d bolt into the stands and start throwing punches seemed impossible. We didn’t do sports like that. Or we hadn’t. When players fought, they kept it in the field of play. When fans fought, they kept it in the stands. Any crossover was verbal. But, oh, that cup.