EAST RUTHERFORD, N. J. -- When Kenyon Martin was a kid, the bullies ruthlessly teased him. They listened to his stutter and laughed louder and louder. They pushed him to fits of rage and ultimately to a resounding resolve to vanquish those voices. As the years passed, Martin grew into a hulking 6-foot-9, 230 pounds, a No. 1 pick, an emerging NBA star with an anger borne out of those long ago days that never leaves him. It flushes Martin full of fury, sculpting him into this menacing, marauding S.O.B. the Nets had gone too long without employing.

	Kenyon Martin earned his second suspension for this foul on Tracy McGrady. Now he's up to five.

The Nets have had malcontents and clown jesters, but never his presence, his disposition, his blind ambition to persecute opponents with the sheer force of his will. Here was the star to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jason Kidd and truly take these Nets somewhere.

Something happened. Something changed. Something snapped. It started with Karl Malone on Dec. 22, escalated with Tracy McGrady within two weeks and soon Martin had started an unseemly campaign to frighten the NBA. It has gone too long, turning destructive. The NBA's angriest young man has turned downright vicious, and suddenly it's threatening the Nets' season.

Martin has lost eight games to suspension. He's lost his mind at times. He's lost the benefit of the doubt with officials. He's lost the trust of his bosses and teammates. Just a week and a half ago, Nets officials dragged Martin to the principal's office at the NBA headquarters in Manhattan. It didn't matter. Within days, Martin reached back and thrust an elbow toward the face of Atlanta's Shareef Abdur-Rahim and cost himself a mandatory two-game suspension. The Nets have had it. From general manager Rod Thorn to coach Byron Scott to his teammates, they're confounded. They're angry. They're wondering what do with the angriest young man in the NBA. How do they stop the rage before it destroys this magnificent Nets season?

"What is (it) that is causing the reaction on the basketball court?" Scott wondered last week. "After the first and second time, he was genuinely upset about it, that he had let his teammates down. I hope that hasn't changed. We're not eight games ahead of Detroit. We have a race here."

Martin doesn't seem to understand the consequences here. He's threatening to ruin everything: The regular season conference championship, the playoffs, and -- believe it -- a legitimate chance to reach the NBA Finals. It isn't just the referees watching and waiting for him to lose it, but everyone else, too. "We can't continue to think that when he's on the court, something's going to happen," Scott said. "This has to stop now."

The Nets don't have time to wait for Martin to grow out of these thuggish spasms. This is their time. This is the year. Allen Iverson, Vince Carter and Grant Hill are hurt. The Bucks are dysfunctional. The Knicks are over, the Heat out and, yes, things seldom ever break this way for the Nets. But once they get to the playoffs, the Nets have to believe Martin is there unconditionally. They have to trust him. They have to believe. Today, they can't. Today, they're fearing the possibilities when this should be the season they embrace them.

"There's a greater chance of something happening in the playoffs, the way the game is played," Scott said. "It's going to be a lot more physical, a lot more halfcourt. Guys are going to be grabbing, bumping. When its starts, there's a whole lot more at stake. You can't have your best player sitting on the bench for two games because of a flagrant foul."

This is the hard part. Martin refuses to stop playing the persecuted victim. He refuses responsibility. All you get out of Martin are dismissive and defiant words, and ultimately, repeat offenses. "I'm not changing the way I play," Martin snarled. "I'm not changing."

David Stern had a message for him this week: You will change, or you won't play on a regular basis in the NBA. If this was just NBA judge and jury Stu Jackson's fight until now, it is no more. Martin has turned into a far bigger issue for a league obsessed with image. For now, he's bad for business. Understand, too, that Stern never loses these tests of will with his employees. Never.

It isn't so much Martin's line on the stat sheet as it is his snarling, unapologetic style that screams of a new day for these Nets. Maybe Martin doesn't see it, but he has a chance to be an All-Star. This isn't Bill Laimbeer or Rick Mahorn or Dennis Rodman needing to play this part to keep a job. As Martin himself said, "I wasn't the No. 1 pick for nothing," and it's true.

He was the 2000 No. 1 pick for a telling reason: Through the years, the Nets have never had a player of Martin's talent and temperament, tough and talented. Yes, everything had started so perfectly this season until Martin chased down Karl Malone on a fast break and obliterated him. Something happened. Something changed. Something snapped. He clotheslined Tracy McGrady. The suspensions started. Martin has insisted to Stu Jackson that he isn't a thug, and this could well be true. He just needs to stop acting like one.

Everyone is tired of his excuses -- exhausted of them. He's been back from his latest suspension two games now -- a win over the Sixers, a loss to the Timberwolves -- and the Nets desperately need him to keep playing. They're fighting for the Eastern Conference top seed, fighting years and years of dysfunction that always seems to engulf them. The Nets haven't won a playoff series since 1984. Finally, they have a chance again, a chance to go a long way. Kenyon Martin is too talented for this bad act, too important to the Nets. Byron Scott is right: This has to stop now. This can't go on. There's too much to lose.

Adrian Wojnarowski, a sports columnist for The Record (Northern N.J.), is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.