You know, I’m with Lugg on this one. The NBA and much of its baggage is garbage.

After looking at the ink blotter after the garbage collector’s visit to the NBA All-Star game in Vegas, I am more thankful for the ol’ mans escort into motorsports.

Checking the ink blotter after NASCAR left Cali, no reports of pistol whips. After the NHRA packed up from Phoenix, no bag of bills left on a stripper’s stage. And following the record setting crowd at Atlanta’s Supercross, I didn’t hear of a 5am night club brawl caused by a two-wheeler’s posse.

Professional basketball players are some of the baddest on the planet. They are also some of the most thankless.

I say, put a fat Tide Detergent sticker on the Nuggets uniform and let sponsors run’em. Stern and his Forrest Gump goof balls sure can’t.

I say, logo up the Bobcats hops with a national furniture company and let the La-Z-Boys lay down the law. Billy Hunter and his Herbie The Love Bug bums sure can’t.

Granted, you cannot control what follows you but you sure can control your image. Yet, image is everything for some of these ball bouncers and keepin’ it real is often too realistic.

Say what you will about John Force rattling off a slew of sponsors after a quarter mile jog, his off the strip antics are as dangerous as a Los Angeles Clippers cheerleader's bowel movement. Even an off the track rant from NASCAR’s Tony Stewart can be mistaken for a Christmas gift by pro-ballers standards.

NBA, your jig is up. Douse some Raid on the rats and roaches and welcome in the legs of appreciative jump shooters and sponsor pimpin’ playas.

That's what I Freakin' think.

You?

Shoot me an email @ kennys@speedfreaks.tv or give me a holler at the office 818-995-9159.