Crossing a Line

This week, NBA fans in New York, Philadelphia and Utah thought the best way to help the home team was by spitting at an opposing player; throw popcorn at an opponent; or verbally harass the visitors, respectively. The incidents involved five fans, two of whom so far have been banned from all future games (in Gotham and the City of Brotherly Love). I want to dump on these people, big time, until I think of people in glass houses and all. I have never in my life spit or thrown anything at a professional athlete; I have heckled opposing players. It has always been about performance—usually the lack thereof in key situations—and nothing more. But I don’t know if that’s enough to get me off the hook anymore. Anything beyond “You stink, Smith!” may be too much in these times, and even those three words may be stepping over a line. In the future, I think I’ll continue to ride players when in the comfort of home and keep my mouth shut at ballgames. Maybe that way the grandson will learn a lesson about respect.