Newcastle midfielder Joey Barton finally received his six-match suspension for a brutal, unprovoked training-ground attack on (then Manchester City) teammate Ousmane Dabo in May 2007, that left him looking like “the Elephant Man.€ The original estimate was fifteen matches, with many calling for his outright ban from professional soccer.  Barton was also fined $50,000.

Barton also recently finished a four-month prison term, for an attack on a 16-year-old boy in a Liverpool McDonalds.  Additionally, He has had two other alleged incidents of assault with a taxi-driver and a 15-year-old Everton fan, hit a pedestrian with his car, and stubbed a cigar out in a teammate’s eye at a Christmas party.

Barton will be eligible to play for Newcastle at the end of October, and be paid about $120,000 per week to do so.

Joey Barton presents, perhaps, an extreme case.  But his example parallels a similar lax attitude toward violence in American sports.

The Philadelphia Phillies stand aside when a talented pitcher clocks his wife in the face in public, and their fawning, forgetful beat-writing clique laughs at his zany antics a short time later.

Ron Artest left the court and started an arena-wide riot, but the Rockets think he’s the missing piece to a championship team.

Serial scumbags such as Jerramy Stevens remain in good standing with the NFL’s “Personal Conduct Policy.€ (While Ricky Williams is Satan.)

Run of the mill extracurricular violence in the NBA and NFL has become so ubiquitous it’s a prominent stereotype.

To a certain extent, athletics harnesses violent impulses.  It’s no shock that a linebacker taught and trained into a maiming machine would export it into other facets of life.  But, why does talent trump culpability?  Is there a point where enough is enough regardless of a player’s talent?  Should there be?