Nov. 12, 1920, was the day the innocence of sports officially passed into memory.

With the turbulent wake of the infamous Black Sox scandal barely a month old, the recent confession of pitcher Eddie Cicotte and outfielder “Shoeless” Joe Jackson prompted frantic club owners to appoint the first commissioner of American professional sports.

To curb the tide of public outrage, league proprietors elected a man of champion resolve — Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis — who earned acclaim for a hefty antitrust penalty imposed upon the reviled Standard Oil empire in 1907.

Named for a Civil War battle site in Georgia, Landis ruled baseball with an iron fist. He halted a course of unbridled corruption and restored the public’s faith in the national pastime. Although (I would be remiss not to note) Landis also held back the integration of the league by at least half a decade.

Racial injustices aside, his disposition never wavered when doling out the letter of the law — passing judgment with absolute authority and unquestionable integrity. In short, Landis seemed everything NBA Commissioner David Stern is not.

Perhaps it comes from the disturbing images evoked by Ray Allen’s allegation that members of his family witnessed Stern wildly cheering for the Sixers in the 2001 Eastern Conference Championships. Perhaps it comes from reviewing the commissioner’s lax history of dealing with player misconduct. Or perhaps it’s simply the fact that his professional background professes an affinity for marketing rather than justice. For whatever reason, I found my confidence in Commissioner Stern’s ability to properly handle the Auburn Hills fiasco perpetrated by a number of NBA stars Friday night as definitively lacking.

Now, it appears, I owe the commish an apology.

Following perhaps the most embarrassing incident in the history of professional basketball, Stern stepped in with uncharacteristic resolve, issuing harsh penalties to Indiana forwards Ron Artest (full season suspension) and Jermaine O’Neal (25 games), as well as guard Stephen Jackson (30 games). Though the judgment leaves Indiana’s roster in shambles and all but decimates any hope of an NBA Championship for the Pacer faithful, the stern reaction — pun very much intended — will, in time, be viewed as more than just a knee-jerk. For the future of the game, a message needed to be sent.

Despite the overwhelming public outcry in the days since the melee, I’ve been hearing a number of ludicrous statements from apologists of this debauched spectacle.

Ridiculous statement No. 1: Up until the fateful dropping of the cup, Artest acted with poise and class.

First and foremost, I would like to assert that no matter how one interprets this statement, it absolutely does not pan out. To begin, I would like to draw the court’s attention to the matter concerning Artest’s recent R&B album. The forward requested time off to promote the release, breaking from his contract with Indiana. His justification? Artest claimed, that as an adult, he should have the freedom to step out of a signed agreement for whatever reason he deems necessary.

So adulthood means bending one’s actions to his Epicurian desires, even acting like a child if necessary to secure that freedom? Great lesson for the kids.

Even simply examining Artest’s behavior on the court in the moments prior to the skirmish, it’s difficult to find the alleged restraint many pundits assert he maintained. Granted, Artest opted not to retaliate against his aggressor, Piston forward Ben Wallace. Here’s where things get cloudy. Instead of standing up to the muscle-bound Wallace with his imposing coiffure and raging disposition, Artest instead decides to release his aggression on some inebriated yahoo up in the stands?

There’s no rational way to excuse the fan. Clearly the man acted every bit the instigator in the Auburn Hills tragedy. Yet, I remain befuddled as to why Artest found it necessary to sprawl out over the scoring table. After all, a chair seems the more conventional option. He wanted attention, plain and simple, and that drew the ire of the Detroit crowd.

Ridiculous statement No. 2: The players who charged in to assist Artest were essentially protecting a family member from harm.

Let’s assume the predication to this statement rings true — that a pro ball squad constitutes a family unit. Even if that’s the case, a responsible party in that situation calculates the repercussions before blindly following the rule of the jungle. Jackson in particular could have served as peacemaker by separating Artest from the cup hurler and his sucker-punching compatriot. Instead, Jackson reacted barbarously, charging at the second man with reckless abandon.

Thankfully, someone managed to restrain Jackson. If the guard had broken loose, the situation could have become exponentially worse. Additionally, O’Neal’s transcourt offensive on the Piston fan who entered the floor appeared grossly overzealous. Artest and the countless others in the frenzy had that situation well in hand. Self-defense provides an argument for Artest, but O’Neal’s haymaker justifiably earned him a lengthy vacation.

Ridiculous statement No. 3: You can’t blame Artest for finally succumbing to the abuse spewed forth by drunken fans in the stands.

Like hell I can’t. The proximity of fans to the action is one of the great appeals of basketball. Racial slurs and personal attacks constitute two of the unfortunate slings and arrows of playing before a raucous crowd. By the professional level, however, it stands to reason a player would be well accustomed this. Artest seems to have a history of showing his thin skin.

Maybe he’s just misunderstood, as his friends and teammates have stated. Personally, I find that somewhat hard to believe. Well, Artest certainly has ample time to pursue a music career now. Maybe he could do a hip-hop remix of The Animals’ 1965 hit “Don’t Let Me be Misunderstood.” Toss in a few inexplicable guest performers, drop a hot baseline, shoot a video switching back and forth between a club in Chicago and the back of an Escalade, and it sounds like a hit.

But make no mistake, Eric Burdon he is not. Thank you, Commissioner Stern, for pulling this joker from the court.