http://www.chicagotribune.com/topic/sfl ... picgalleryLawyers. Arbitrators. League officials. Media. Fans. Jermaine O'Neal had a lot of explaining to do, to all sorts of people, and none of it was pleasant. "But the toughest part for me was to explain it to my daughter," he says. He hadn't brought himself to tell Asjia what had happened on Nov. 19, 2004, or why, in the days that followed, he was home watching games in progress rather than reviewing games on tape. But a sharp 5-year-old doesn't take long to figure it out, especially when her friends are fans of her father, and that father had recently participated in the ugliest brawl in NBA history. "Dad, somebody told me you were suspended for punching somebody."Her information was accurate, and could be easily confirmed by video airing endlessly on every imaginable television network. O'Neal's Indiana Pacers just 45.9 seconds away from a statement victory against the defending champion Detroit Pistons. Pistons center Ben Wallace shoving Ron Artest after a hard foul. A fan tossing a cup of beer on Artest as the Pacers forward lay on the scorers table. Artest, and then teammate Stephen Jackson, storming the stands. Fans throwing chairs, bottles and popcorn buckets.Asjia's father, considered one of the NBA's more thoughtful and philanthrophic players, impulsively sliding across the floor and landing an overhand right to a fan who had raced onto the court. "More than anything, you want to be considered a great father and a role model, especially for your kid," O'Neal says. "So that was hard."
Asjia is 10 now. Her father is 30, and Tuesday night will play his fourth game for his third team, the Heat. He will face the Pistons. Detroit's roster is much different than it was on that night. So is O'Neal. "I told some of the guys in here, that changed my life," O'Neal says. "That was the beginning of some really tough times in Indiana for me. Even though I was still able to make some All-Star teams, mentally I was worn out. And once I wore out mentally, physically I started to wear down. I'm just now starting to get my feet under me." O'Neal's story starts in Columbia, S.C.. Raised primarily by his mother Angela, he developed a love for sports, football above any other. He was a quarterback on the Eau Claire squad, with an arm strong enough that he still likes to show off his spiral. "I just got too tall," he says. He grew five inches to 6 feet 9 in one summer, and he grew mentally and emotionally under the tutelage of his basketball coach, George Glymph, who challenged players and occupied their idle time with cross-country training and extra study halls. When Glymph first met O'Neal, the teenager was withdrawn, ashamed of his financial circumstances. Glymph practiced interviews with him, and by the time O'Neal graduated, he was self-assured enough to accommodate the dozens of fans lining up for his autograph. Against Glymph's advice, he applied for the NBA Draft, just as fellow South Carolina star Kevin Garnett had the year before. Portland drafted him 17th overall and, over the next four seasons, O'Neal received his "College 101" training from Trail Blazer veterans Gary Trent, Rasheed Wallace, Scottie Pippen, Detlef Schrempf and Brian Grant. "I can't think of any better way to learn the business than to be involved with it," O'Neal says.
Except that he wasn't that involved on the court, playing sparingly. That changed after his trade to Indiana. He led the league in blocks in 2000-01 and won the NBA's Most Improved Player award in 2002, when he started a run of six straight All-Star selections. He also impressed off the court, winning the Magic Johnson award for cooperation with the media in 2004. His image was pristine. "Obviously, the Detroit situation shocked the whole system," he says. "Obviously you don't condone any type of fighting. But you've got to make the best decision for you and your family at the time, and you don't have a lot of time to think out that process. If someone hits me over the head with a chair and kills me, who is going to tell my wife and my daughter and my son that Daddy's not going to come home?" Instead, Daddy would be spending more time at home. The NBA initially suspended O'Neal for 25 games, longer than anyone but Artest or Jackson. An arbitrator in federal court reduced it to 15 games, ruling that the punch came "in the flow of the game" and O'Neal had a right to protect himself and teammates. Criminal and civil charges were dropped. Still, it took its toll. The Pacers, who lost 10 of 15 games during O'Neal's absence, were never the same on or off the court. "All of a sudden, it became about other issues, not basketball," O'Neal says. "We always talked, me and management, about things we needed to do to make the image look better for our team and our city. Basketball was just secondary, and I never had the opportunity to really address the issues that I was having physically."