I've been a Pistons fan since the fourth grade. My heroes were Joe Dumars, Isaiah Thomas, John "Spider" Salley, and the microwave (Vinnie Johnson). I worked for the Detroit Pistons during undergrad as an instructor for their camps and clinics. I still have poster, t-shirts, and other things from the bad boy era.

I cheered them on the last few years (at times reverting back to my middle school days). In my office at home I have the towel, poster, newspaper clippings (which Kara stood in line to attain) and championship tee-shirt.

Having said that, I was utterly ashamed at what took place on Friday night at The Palace between the Pistons, Pacers, and spectators. First, I'm ashamed that I contribute to the religioisity of Pro Sports in our culture. One could make the argument that big sports has emerged as the new religion (stadiums as sanctuaries, athletes as deities)--I contribute to the grose reality that has become sports in America. I do not understand the chaos that ensued. I don't comprehend Artest, Wallace, O'Neal (who I was sure killed the fan who came on the court), Jackson.
I do not understand the fans. I do not understand the NBA commissioner who hugs the major beer companies in private for the money they pay to advertise, and then chastises the fans (and the results) of having the beer in the stadiums.

Everyone takes the blame in this one. No one is without guilt...except perhaps for the young boy shown on cable television holding his mother's leg, crying in horror.
I hope healing can come from this. But more than that, I hope we realize how insignificant sport really is in light of so much evil and brokenness in the world.