Speak up, trash-talkers
I figured out what I hate about the NBA’s legendary trash-talking:
I can’t hear it.
That’s what the NBA ought to televise. That’s where they ought to train their parabolic microphones, right there on Nate Robinson and Brandon Jennings, two little guys with big mouths and alternating big games.
Robinson is the most fun a Bulls fan can have without Derrick Rose. Nothing the Bulls have done this season or will do for the next couple months will matter until Rose starts games and plays big minutes. Waiting. Waiting. Wait. Ing.
In the meantime, then, there’s Robinson. Did you see that dunk during the Bulls’ vivisection of the Bucks in Milwaukee last night?
His massive dunk apparently cashed some lottery tickets with several teammates. At stake were bets or bragging rights, or both. Whatever, there was something to talk about, and Robinson can talk, believe me.
Believe Jennings, too. Believe that Robinson’s relentless yakking was a big reason that Jennings opened his pottymouth on referee Derrick Stafford in the fourth quarter and was ejected after Robinson sucked him into a charging call.
Jennings, understand, was tossed with only one technical foul, so that must’ve been some classic combination of naughty words.
Which is what I want to hear. Which is what you want to hear, too, admit it.
I want to hear what the players say about girlfriends, mothers and body parts. If somebody greenlights this show, you've finally got an interesting version of "Keeping Up With The Kardashians.''
I want to hear their creative cursing, too. I think we all can learn something from professionals. No bleeping, no lip-reading, just bringing it. I mean, how else will we parents learn what the popular kids are saying on the school bus?
But David Stern won’t let that language come into our homes, no matter that it cannot possibly be worse than anything we scream when forced to listen to Shaq.
This edition of Robinson-Jennings, by the way, figured to be exponentially great after the last Bulls-Bucks game when Robinson refused to shut up even while Jennings was killing it in the United Center.
That’s the good stuff, and always has been. Michael Jordan, Larry Bird and Charles Barkley are Hall of Fame players, but they also were All-World trash-talkers.
Face it, there are too many games that are just awful looking. There are too many games that devolve into the torturous parade to the dreaded free-throw line. It’s interminable. It destroys your will to live. It becomes more unwatchable than my Tribune video blogs.
The NBA has too many games and too many bad games. The league ought to contract by half, but that’s another blog. This is one is about giving me an hour of NBA trash-talking. You can have Golden State-Dallas on TNT tonight. I’d rather have the “Real Points Guards of the NBA Central.’’