It has been almost ten years since Metta World Peace won his only NBA title, as a starter on the 2010 Los Angeles Lakers. It capped a very dramatic decade of basketball for the man formerly known as Ron Artest. His early years were marked by equal parts promise and controversy: Though his toughness and competitive spirit made him a world-class defender, they also contributed to his reputation as an aloof and excitable teammate, whose temper was liable to set him off at any moment. After his only career All-Star appearance in 2003–2004 (in which he wore four different shoes, hoping to get a shoe deal), World Peace began the 2004 season on an Indiana Pacers team that included Jermaine O'Neal and Reggie Miller, and looked poised to make a run at the NBA title.
That hope, and World Peace's season, fell apart just nine games in. Late in an early-season game against the Detroit Pistons, World Peace leveled a hard foul on Ben Wallace, which led to an on-court scuffle, which led to the most notorious night in NBA history, the highlights of which live on in infamy: Artest, in an uncharacteristic attempt to get away from the conflict, lay down on the scorer's table adjacent to the court; amid a chorus of boos, a beverage came raining down from the crowd, hitting him in the chest; Artest jumped up and ran into the crowd to choke out whoever was bold enough to toss their drink at one of the league's most volatile players. Things escalated into a full-on melee between the Detroit fans and the Indiana Pacers, who had to escape back to their locker room under a shower of debris thrown from the crowd. Artest was suspended for the remainder of the season (73 games), and the "Malice at the Palace" became the defining moment of his career.
All of this is recounted in great detail in Showtime's upcoming documentary Quiet Storm, out this Friday. Though it includes extensive footage of the 2004 brawl, it's also the story of the other dominant theme of World Peace's narrative, one that's become more and more public after those turbulent early years: his struggle with mental-health issues. Growing up in New York's Queensbridge Houses, World Peace began counseling when he was just 13, when his parents separated, and it was then that he says things started "to go south for me emotionally." He continued that counseling throughout his NBA career, often at the encouragement of teams who desperately wanted his talents but not his demons. In 2010, as a productive member of that L.A. Lakers team and the man who hit the three-pointer that sealed the Finals win, World Peace thanked his therapist in a post-title interview.
It came at a time when speaking out publicly about your mental struggles still carried a stigma. And now, World Peace revisits all of this in the new documentary, which he hasn't watched yet (he wants to wait until it comes out "to be surprised"). Recently, he sat with GQ to go deep about what it was like to be called "crazy" by so many people at a time when he was really struggling, to detail what he remembers about the brawl, and to give some surprising answers about what he’d do over and what he’d keep exactly the same.
GQ: Are you nervous to watch the documentary?
Metta World Peace: I wasn't until some people asked me that question. Now I'm like, "Shit, do I have reason to be nervous?" I think I do, because it's gonna bring back so many memories. I never thought I would have the opportunity to distribute this type of content on a huge platform. [I didn’t have] your typical post-NBA player career. [A lot of ex-players] go on ESPN, and you go on TNT. It's hard for me to get on TNT because I just don't have those relationships.
Michael Jordan had the documentary Come Fly with Me. Now, I'm not Jordan, but I have my own story that I want to tell. I get to tell some deep personal stories and move beyond this, and then launch a basketball documentary: How good Metta World Peace was as a basketball player. Other people can get right to that. Jordan doesn't have to explain a personal story in a documentary. I have to do that.
Why do you have to do that?
I think it's just to clear things up. Back in the days, media was different. It was all corporate—there wasn't social media—and it was one message for the most part. So when I was playing, I was very disruptive. Nobody really understood that. If you wasn't Michael Jordan or Tim Duncan, you was considered thug, gangster. That's not the case with everyone.
What do you think was the biggest misconception about you when you were playing?
Everything people said was true. I'm from the streets, I'm from the hood. There's no misconception, it's just about accepting. Can you accept it? I'm not from where you're from. I love where I'm from. I had a mother and father up to the age of 13. Then they separated, and things started to go south for me emotionally.
In our neighborhood, there was all sorts of things going on: drugs, violence, fighting, all type of things like that. That became normal. You walk around your neighborhood, and you're not afraid—you should be, but you’re not. If somebody gets shot today, it's like, “All right, he got shot today. It was fucked up, but we'll move on.” That's not normal, man. No kid should have to go through that. So when you ask, "Is there a misunderstanding?" No, there's no misunderstanding. You've just got to accept where we're from.
Adam Silver recently spoke about how he hears all the time from NBA players, how they're unhappy these days. And Kevin Love and DeMar DeRozan have spoken about their struggles with mental health. It feels like the NBA has been really progressive with those issues, but I'm curious how much you felt there might have been a stigma when you were playing.
When I played, if you came out and you said you needed help, the media would laugh, call you “crazy.” And who knows the media person that was writing the stories—did they have problems? I would love to go back and check every name who wrote a story and then see the problems they had. Did they get divorced? What did they go through? Do they have criminal records? I remember when people used to call me crazy, I got tired of worrying about it. I just didn't care anymore. I was like, “Whatever, it is what it is. They're not going to say it to my face.”
Back in those days, I would just say whatever was on my mind, so I would just tell the media person to f-off. In 2010, when I thanked my psychologist on television, it was still a stigma at that time, too, but I didn't care. People be going through things. I felt like it was necessary for me to say that so people can understand: “Hey, I had the biggest game of my life—a superhero for L.A. The superhero had help. The superhero thanked a psychologist.”
I remember people made a big deal about that when that happened.
People was calling me “crazy” for saying that. "He thanked his psychologist, he's crazy!" I don't know how you're crazy for helping yourself.
How much of that noise did you hear when people were calling you crazy?
Luckily, when I would hear it, I couldn't contact each person and say "fuck you," so I just let it slide.
[laughs] But did it get to you?
Sometimes it did. I would say it showed when I was talking to the media, and I would say things or act out. Certain things I did in the NBA, I didn't do when I was growing up. People were like, "Why is Ron acting like that? He don't act like that." I was frustrated with a lot of things, so a lot of the stuff was [me] lashing out. You got everybody attacking you from so many different angles, and not only that, you're going through your own shit.
There's a moment in the documentary where you talk about how, when you made it to the NBA, it magnified your own inner turmoil. Why?
Anything I was thinking or any characteristic I had, good or bad, it magnified it. It was spiraling out of control. Back in those days, you think alcohol or marijuana can help. Instead of having an occasional drink, you're doing it as a therapeutic thing. If you're drinking, thinking that's going to solve a problem, you're making it 20 times worse. For me, getting my first check, it highlighted how I was really feeling. It was spent on things to suppress certain feelings. Going out, clubbing, drinking.
At what point did you take to counseling? Did you find it helpful immediately, or was that something you had to warm up to over time?
I was 13 when I first did counseling. My whole family was going to counseling then. When I was 13, my apartment burned down.There was about 14 of us, maybe 15, maybe somebody else. We was in a three- or two-bedroom. Then when our apartment burned down, we had no place to stay for a little bit, so everybody was struggling. We had nothing. Then we stayed in a shelter for a couple of days—everybody was scattered. In two weeks, housing got us an apartment and said, "Listen, we got a one-bedroom for you." We all in a one-bedroom.
Fifteen of you?
All of us. It was fun as kids. And then about a month into that—maybe two months—they found a double apartment. We got a big apartment. Five bedrooms, it was much better. There's not a lot of double apartments in Queensbridge. At that age, there was a lot of that stuff happening—and my parents separated at that age—so I went to go see counseling, free service on the 40 side of 10th Street.
It was tough going into that building, because people knew on the second floor of that building was where the therapist was. Sometimes people would make fun of you. At 13 years old, that's not easy. You're trying to hide, you walk into the building trying to make sure nobody sees you.
How did your apartment burn down?
In my room, we had this crazy electrical wire out. They fixed it sometimes, but then, for a couple of years, they didn't fix it. It just caught fire. Sometimes we'd put a light bulb [there], and you gotta make sure you don't hit the wires because it'd spark. One day it just caught fire.
Were you in there?
Nah, my brother was in there, but he left. My cat died in the fire, but nobody was in the fire.
Were you ever worried that the work you were doing in counseling would at all take away from your competitiveness, or the chip on your shoulder that you played with?
Not really, I never thought about it. I was getting in a lot of trouble in Chicago [after I was drafted by the Bulls]. I was doing crazy shit. [The team] asked, "Is anybody in your family on medication?" I said, "My dad." Then they gave me half the dosage my dad was getting. But I couldn't do it. The first time I took the medicine, it made me feel really awkward, and I never took it again. They were like, "Did you take your medicine today." I was like, "Yeah, I took my medicine."
I just threw that shit in the toilet, man. I ain't taking that shit. I couldn't deal with it. When I was diagnosed later, it was depression. Then they go back, and they open up the wounds, and then close all the wounds and shit.
What do you mean?
They talk to you and say "How far back can you remember? What can you remember?" Anything you can't remember, they get that information from your mom, your dad. There was a lot of stuff going on, but as a kid you don't know until you get older and you start to see stuff. At 40 years old, you're not thinking about any arguing or fighting in the household.
But that shit can stick with you.
Absolutely. You get pinched when you're four years old you're gonna move. Next time somebody go like that, you're going to be like, "Don't touch me." It starts to become a part of your character. So then when you find all that stuff out, you start to be able to say, “Oh, wow, this is why.” Because if you don't know why, you're just trippin' out. Somebody could be in the hood and ready to let their gun just go. Why? Why would you shoot someone for no reason? Some people don't know why. At least I had the funds to figure out why. Not everybody has a lot of opportunities, parents in counseling. It's all expensive.
What was your first breakthrough in that exploration to figure out why?
Obviously when you go through those sessions you don't change overnight. It don't happen in one day, but it was cool to figure it out. Slowly I started to accept things, things other people thought was crazy, you’re like, "It's not really that crazy, it's just the process." We hired one therapist, it was like $85,000 for like three months, it was crazy. The guy would come from Pennsylvania, see me, go see my mom, go see my dad, get us all on the phone. It was a whole process.
Is it at all painful now to go back and revisit some of the things that happened during your playing days? I'm thinking specifically about what happened in Detroit.
The brawl? If anybody was to throw something at me, I'd smack the hell out of them again. Nobody's allowed to hit me with anything. Never. Even before the brawl. I'm just not raised like that. So, other people, don't throw anything at me. I won't throw anything at anybody. The brawl was a problem between me and one man, that was it. Me and Ben Wallace wanted to fight, but we couldn't really fight—there was too many people in the middle. Then another man just threw something at me. For me, it was that simple. The only thing that is difficult to deal with is my awards. I only have eight awards. If I had a better career, I would have had maybe 20, 25 awards. But I only have eight.
I'm trying to follow you—you mean because of your reputation?
I was the man in Indiana. I was averaging 25 [points per game]. I was 23 years old, in my prime. At that point, I already had one Defensive Player of the Year, I had All-Star, third team all-NBA, first team all-defense. Later in my career I got two more first team all-defense. The year before I won Defensive Player of the Year, I led the league in suspensions. Led the league in technical fouls. So I didn't make any all-team, all-defense. The media was like, "This guy's crazy.” That's cool. After I made my first All-Star, the brawl year, I would have been All-Star in Indiana, but I was suspended for the year. So that's one All-Star, a Defensive Player of the Year, and maybe a first-team—definitely a first-team all-NBA. That year definitely. So that's three awards.
Then, I come back after the brawl and I request a trade. I didn't even play that season [in Indiana] because they said, "You're detrimental to the team." They didn't play me until I went to Sacramento in January. So that's another All-Star, definitely, and first team all-defense, and second, third team all-NBA. Now I'm in Sacramento, I'm on somebody else's team, and the team is not that good now. I still made first team all-defense there, but no All-Star, no all-NBA. And the East was easier. So you just add three awards a year, that's about twenty something awards.
How much regret do you have?
For the awards? I have a lot of regret about the awards. Only two things I have regret about in my career. The James Harden incident—it wasn't as bad as he made it seem but it could have been worse.
That was the elbow, right?
It wasn't necessarily the elbow. It was that I couldn't control my emotions. I'm 32 years old at the time. I was having a great game, I was playing my best Laker basketball. It took me a couple years to figure out how to play with Kobe. I was playing my best basketball. I had 16 in the first half. I was killing them. I got a dunk. When James Harden came up from behind me and pushed me, I'm like, "Get the fuck off me." I didn't know it was him, it could've been anybody. And I wasn't able to just play basketball. That moment was a moment where I'm like, "Shit. Again?" So that was one of my worst moments. Then the awards. I don't have all the awards I want.
In the film, they talk a little bit about how, in 2004, you guys had you, you had Reggie Miller, you had Jermaine O’Neal—you guys had a real shot to win a title at Indiana.
That team was crazy. That team was unbelievable. That team was a hell of a team. Everybody says we could have won it. We definitely could have won it.
How tough is that to live with?
I kind of regret that. I think when I won a championship [with the Lakers], I got on the podium, the first thing I did was thank [former President of Basketball Operations for the Pacers] Donnie Walsh, Jermaine O'Neal, Al Harrington, Jamaal Tinsley, Steve Jackson, Anthony Johnson. I had to thank them, because we knew we was title ready.
It's also interesting because it's all tied together. If the stuff in Indiana doesn't happen, who knows if 2010 with the Lakers happens? You don't learn the lessons.
[Former General Manager of the Chicago Bulls] Jerry Krause said to me, "Ronny, you're a great player, but if you keep acting like this I'm going to have to trade you." And I remember [Former Chicago Bulls coach] Bill Cartwright came into my room and said, "Listen. You got one chance, I'm here in your room begging you. Please stop. I'm trying to keep you here." I said, "Okay." And then the next day, I do something crazy, and they trade me. Then Donnie Walsh, he was like, "Ron. Whatever any other team offers you, I'm gonna match it. I just need you to change and be cool." But I was so stubborn and rebellious and into my own head. I couldn't control anything. But it's great to know that Donnie thought about me like that. He wanted my name on the rafters. Larry Bird said I was one of the top 10 players in the NBA. I'm grateful, man. I'm grateful.
When you say you couldn't just be cool, why do you think it was hard to just be cool?
At that time, the NBA was too much for me, I wasn't ready for it. Definitely not. I actually tried to go to Greece, I tried to go overseas. Greece was paying like four million. At that time, I was like, is it worth being stressed? I was like, cool, I'll just go overseas. I was just trying to break away.
When was this?
In 2003. Early. I put in my retirement in 2003. I got my retirement papers from the NBA.
And then what happened?
I wanted to retire. I just wanted to chill for a minute. Every day I'm competing in practice at a high level, and I think, emotionally, your body doesn't know the difference from you being super mad or supper happy. So even if I'm working hard and I'm playing well, I'm super excited, I still have no control. And I'm super intense in practice. To the point where I wasn't even liking my teammates. If I'm competing against you, you're against me. That was my mindset, you're not my teammate. Not only are you not my teammate in that practice, but you're not my teammate for like two weeks, because if anything went down, I'm gonna hold that grudge for a couple weeks. I couldn't let things go. It became too much, I just wanted easier basketball. I wanted easier everything.
So that was 2003 you put in your retirement.
Right before the brawl, man. Because my grandma passed away in October, it was so crazy then. Right before the brawl, I was like, "Yo I need to get the fuck out." I wish I would've retired. I wish I would have did it, but then I was like, nah, don't do it.
My career was great, it's a good story. I'm happy with it and I'm grateful for a lot of things. Michael Jordan said I was his favorite player in 2002? I could find it online. I said that on TV one time and Charles Barkley was like, "Michael Jordan didn't say that about you. Michael Jordan's gonna say you're his favorite player?" The motherfucker said it, man. I didn't make him say it. Right before I got traded from Indiana, LeBron James said, "I'm happy Ron Artest left the east." You can't put that on the trophy. Those are words, and now they don't want to find that. Nobody wants to surface that so I can use it for my documentary, but it's all good.
Charles Barkley said, "Man why would LeBron say that? Man, you can't show somebody you're scared." I was like, "Barkley, he's just giving respect, man." I didn't say it to Barkley, but I'm like, he's showing respect. That moment, what Michael Jordan said, what LeBron James said, Larry what Bird said, and Kobe Bryant said I was the best defender of all time at the championship, in the locker room. I have a lot to be grateful for. The greatest players, hall of famers spoke those words. If hall of famers are speaking those words, I must be a hall of famer, man. They ain't talking like that about no scrub.
At what point after the brawl did you know that it was as big of a deal as it was?
I found out I got suspended on TV. The day I got suspended, literally the next day, I was selling T-shirts on my website. Then my website crashed. I didn't know how to capture data at that time. If I knew how to capture data at that time, wow.
What do you mean?
I mean it was millions from around the world on our site. I sold some Tru Warier T-shirts, but I didn't have enough, I didn't know how to do e-commerce at that time. People from Iraq, all around the world, people was on my site and I had no content. I don't even know what the hell we had on the site.
Did you sell a lot of t-shirts that day?
I sold a lot of t-shirts, but I didn't know how to make them all. My check stopped. I'm 23 years old, no check. November 15th—nothing hits. It's crazy, because I signed [R&B group] Allure [to my record label, Tru Warier]. We completed the album, they had great records on there. And they couldn't go on a promo tour, we couldn't sell the album.
Because of the brawl?
Yeah, we had no budget. I'm like, "Yo, I'm sorry, but I gotta get by on what I got. I can't put no money behind this." It was so many things that was happening during the brawl. I think I went on NBC the next day and they was asking questions about the brawl, and I was selling the album. I was like, "Listen man, I'm done. What do you want me to do?"
When you say you got your retirement papers in 2003, what does that mean, exactly?
I called the NBA, called and told him that I wanted to retire, he was like, "Are you sure? You wanna think about it?" I'm like, "Okay, I'll think about it." I called him back, I said, "No, I don't want to think about it, give me my retirement papers. What is the process?"
And this was around 2003?
Before the brawl.
The brawl was 2004.
The brawl was 04-05. It happened in ‘04.
So you tried to retire in ‘04?
In ‘04.
So they sent you the papers, and then what happened?
Everybody was like, "Yo, you okay?" “No, I'm not okay.” But I just didn't sign the papers and send it back through.
And then you decided that you'd keep playing?
I just kept playing. I got through it, it was good.
You said you only have two regrets. Would you foul Ben Wallace again on that foul?
I would foul Ben Wallace again. Absolutely. You know why? Because you play hard, all the time. It's very important. If I'm down 30, and the other player wants to shoot, whatever man. Shoot the ball. Some people get upset because somebody shoots the ball. You play hard until the end. There's only one way.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
