Rick Romell

Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Dear Giannis,

We ♥ you.

We are OBF (Original Bucks Fans) and we’ve been here every season for the last 50 years.

We watched Wayne (The Wall) Embry and Flynn (The Electric Eye) Robinson when the Bucks played in an arena called The Arena.

We knew The Rabbit, The Cement Mixer and The King. We can tell a pancake jumper from a rainbow jumper from a frog-leg jumper and can show you where on the court you’ll find Broadway and the Toaster. We’re fluent in the dialect of the great Bucks radio announcer Eddie Doucette.

We can even sing the original Bucks’ theme song, the one that praises them because “they play basketball the professional way.”

We were blessed by Kareem and Nellie and cursed by George Karl and his still unfathomable trade of future Hall of Famer Ray Allen for 10 weeks of Gary Payton’s services.

We applauded Alvin Robertson’s ball-hawking hustle and endured Anthony Mason’s excruciating free-throw form. We’ve seen Marques Johnson reverse jam with his back to the basket and watched Glenn Robinson miss that 9-footer on the baseline that probably would have put the Bucks in the finals in 2001.

We had great years in the early ’70s and in the ’80s, and mostly suffering since, including having to bear the shame of Chicagoans regularly taking over the Bradley Center during the Jordan era.

But we’ve never had anyone like you.

Yes, there’s Kareem, the man who made the Bucks instant contenders. Arguably the greatest player ever. And a smart, cool guy who very briefly even hosted his own jazz show on local radio.

But the young Kareem often seemed reserved, distant. And he really didn’t want to be here anyway.

And as excellent as he was on the court, he was efficient, not exciting. He wasn’t what you’d call fun.

Then came you – gazelle-loping, Euro-stepping, dime-dishing, rim-rocking you, with your moves, your drive and your barbaric yawp after especially-ferocious jams.

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Not to mention the work ethic. You hit town a skinny 19-year-old and then hit the weight room, gradually adding 50 pounds of muscle until you looked like a statue in the Parthenon.

And now, Giannis, they fear you.

They fear you on the break, taking one dribble to get from half court to the basket. They fear you when you’re triple-teamed and pass to Lopez or Bledsoe or Snell for a three. And they fear that, at age 24, you’re going to get even better.

All of which, of course, the OBF love. Plus, you like Milwaukee, and you seem to be the kind of regular guy Milwaukee likes. You eat at Omega on 27th and Morgan. You thought it would be a good idea to hold your own garage sale.

We know we’re third string on the local fan scene. Most people here pay more attention to pitchers and catchers reporting or which defensive lineman the Packers might draft to plug the A-gap.

But we don’t care. You’ve made it fun to be a Bucks fan again.

Happy Valentine’s Day,

Rick

OBF

Rick Romell covers retail and general business news for the Journal Sentinel.