Jim Litke AP columnist

Guys who own Las Vegas casinos had better know a thing or two about bluffing. And obviously, they relish a gamble.

But those aren’t the only reasons Sacramento Kings co-owners Joe and Gavin Maloof were all smiles when the deal that brought them Ron Artest from Indianapolis was finally sealed.

Artest has that effect on everybody.

At first.

He’s funny and sincere, he arrives full of energy, and more to the point, Artest is conscientious about showing up for work.

Until he loses interest.

And then?

Well, the Maloof brothers probably know something about that, too. Plenty of people walk out of their Palms Hotel and Casino every night with fewer dollars and less sense than they walked in with.

Who knew they had so much in common with the paying customers?

“We’re gamblers,” Gavin Maloof said. “So we’re going to take a chance on him.”

As he spoke, Joe was standing nearby. This was Wednesday in Madison Square Garden, where the Kings arrived to play the Knicks. Separated by a few feet during a whirlwind round of interviews, it seemed as though the two were sharing a script.

“We’re gamblers,” echoed Joe.

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Neither was much more forthcoming about their plans to keep Artest happy and focused, and how it will differ from what the Bulls and Pacers tried.

“The Kings are a family,” Joe said.

A family with a depleted roster and a lousy record, it should be noted. And a coach, Rick Adelman, who was overmatched trying to keep semiprofessional troublemaker Chris Webber in line.

Who do you think will be favored in the inevitable Adelman-Artest standoff? And will the Palms take bets?

“All that’s in the past,” Gavin said at another point. “We want to look forward, otherwise we wouldn’t have made this happen.”

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The problem with Artest is not just his past, but his pattern. With each new beginning, he says all the right things, works his tail off and earns the respect of his new teammates and old adversaries on the court. And then he does something to screw it up.

He throws an elbow at a meaningless juncture in a game, or a fit after a tough loss. He gets fined or suspended, or both. He comes back saying all the right things, working his tail off ... and then decides he needs more time off to produce a rap record.

Artest was that way for 2 1/2 seasons in Chicago, and for 4 1/2 seasons in Indianapolis after that. He never lied or play-acted to get out of work, the way Dennis Rodman did (whose number “91” Artest wore for a while in tribute). He never manipulated team executives, coaches or teammates to get his way, the way Michael Jordan did.

Maybe that’s why people who’ve spent time with Artest say he’s so open and honest — almost childlike — that it’s difficult to stay mad at him for long.