Does the loutish, off-court behavior of someone who didn’t see a lick of playing time drain all the life from a watershed victory?

It doesn’t. It can’t. Or at least it shouldn’t.

Perhaps you read the juxtaposed headlines from Lewiston High School in Saturday’s edition.

The Blue Devils celebrated their biggest boys’ basketball victory since before any current players were born. Then one of those players made a fool of himself and was hauled off to the hoosegow.

I had the misfortune of witnessing the early moments of this escalation after walking through the swinging doors in a stream of spectators.

As we fled, shook our heads and tiptoed across the black ice, one man muttered, “I wouldn’t last in that job for a week.” I laughed, and yes, I confess that one thought bounced around in my head.

To paraphrase former San Francisco 49ers linebacker Ken Norton Jr., “Same, old, sorry Lewiston.”

May I ask two favors of you? One, allow me to backpedal and repent from that initial reaction. And two, please don’t fall into the same judgmental trap.

Because it isn’t fair. It’s based on a perception that is five or 10 or 50 years ancient.

Lewiston has a terrific senior class that is solid in the classroom, has been outstanding in the athletic realm across all seasons and are good, respectful kids when they’re in street clothes.

It isn’t their fault that those distinctions aren’t the complete focus right now. Their accomplishments are only momentarily sullied by the actions of one kid who probably should have been sent to his room without supper a long time ago. Instead, he got to spend the night, and potentially much longer, in a room without a doorknob.

I saw an angry young man huddled among at least two peers and one police officer, shouting into the night air while someone near the back of the Hampden bus appeared to egg it on.

The officer — speaking calmly and reasonably, it seemed — cautioned the student that if he continued, he would be taken to jail for disorderly conduct.

He attempted to escort the boy away from the scene and calm him down. Instead, the now-former player jerked his arm away, loudly accusing the cop of “harassment.”

That’s when I departed the scene. I didn’t need to stay. I’d seen the movie before and knew how it was going to end.

The police report takes it from there. There was further confrontation. The student allegedly struck an officer in the fray. Chemical spray was used to subdue the suspect.

WMTW-TV reported Saturday that police said the suspect objected to another student’s bag being searched.

If that’s the case, not your battle and not your issue. Move along.

Then there’s the foolishness of hollering back at the Hampden heckler.

Hello! You won. You beat the undefeated, No. 1 team in the league, tying the Broncos for first place. I don’t care if the guy dropped his window, mooned you, shouted all seven of George Carlin’s dirty words and questioned the legitimacy of your birth.

You’re a senior in high school. Be a man, say “scoreboard” and keep walking.

Police didn’t identify the 17-year-old suspect, who was taken to a juvenile detention center in South Portland, according to WMTW. But if he is who multiple witnesses say he is, we are dealing with someone who has habitually experienced difficulty walking away and shutting his yap.

He was working on a growing list of profanity-laced confrontations with officials, coaches and fans alike this season.

So none of this is surprising, and none of it should reflect upon the class organization that fourth-year coach Tim Farrar and a dedicated group of juniors and seniors have built.

This isn’t the same Lewiston High School program that was involved in an unfortunate brawl at Lawrence and forced to play out its remaining games with mostly JV players.

Corbin Hyde, Shawn Ricker and Steven Patrie — to name only a few — are the kind of people you would be privileged to have as neighbors, friends and sons.

They’ve taken a team that won two games both their freshman and sophomore years and exploded to a 7-1 start. Excitement and expectations haven’t been this high since Mike Fennessy, Chris May and rookie coach Andrew Dolloff went 18-0 in 1990.

They’re a pleasure to watch on the court and a joy to converse with off it.

From here until the end of February, I hope that will be the focus, and that five foolish minutes on a Friday night in January will be called what they were.

One adolescent allegedly acting like a toddler.

— Kalle Oakes is a staff columnist. His email is [email protected].