I don’t know if any of you wingdings would ever have the stones to read us over on FOXSports. Probably not. But if you did — and if you could read anything other than the day of the week printed in block letters on the back of your tighty-whities — you’d understand that we don’t pull any punches over there. Sometimes I’m hard on players and coaches, because I think you, the fans, deserve an honest, straight-from-the-hip perspective.

But sometimes, it’s because they’re stupid punks who don’t deserve any better. This article is for the latter crew. Yes, I’m aware that a middle-aged (but still fit, you better believe) white man with a beard calling younger, darker-skinned men “punks” might be construed as somewhat racist. But let’s set the record straight: I’m not. If I was, would I even bother with the NBA? And would I have been a successful CBA coach? Would I have ghost-written a book for Darryl Dawkins? Okay, then, that’s settled. That having been said, I KNOW that “punk” means you are the receiving end of a manjection. That’s precisely why I use that term. You got a problem with that? Punk?

Here are the top ten punks in the NBA today.

1. Kevin Garnett. Say all you want to about this guy, with his athleticism and his versatility and his obvious competitive drive and his being mentioned by “gangsta rappaz” like Common as an example of coolness — he’s still a small fry to me. Here’s a new concept for KG: carrying your team on your back. The great ones don’t need a “supporting cast.” If he was any kind of man, like Michael Jordan, he’d already have hardware. End of story.

2. Allen Iverson. Why do I hate him? Let me count the ways: the attitude; the tattoos; the refusal to practice, ever, under any circumstance; the hair; the fact that he went to Georgetown instead of somewhere in North Carolina; the attitude…everything about this guy bugs me. I’m getting bored of trying to expose the myth of this wee leprechaun. He is a great scorer, I’ll give you that. But is everything all about putting the ball in the basket? Is that how teams win ball games? If AI had half the determination of a Matt Harpring or Manu Ginobili, he’d be a champion in my book. But guess what: he’s filed under “L.” For Loser.

3. Kobe Bryant. I don’t think we need to say anything here. Mamba? More like mambo. Or mumbo-jumbo. How my friend Phil Jackson can stand this deviant fraud, I’ll never know.

4. Tracy McGrady. Ever look at someone and you just KNOW they’re not right in the soul? That’s what it’s like when I think about T-Mac. He can’t play defense to save his life, he’s a disloyal traitor, a bad driver, and his commercials make him look like some kind of bat-angel when instead he’s more of a butterfly-spawn-of-Satan. Maybe it’s the eyes, or his cousinship to #5. I just don’t like him or his game (outside of his shooting, most nights), so he’s on my list.

5. Vince Carter. That’s right, we take on the tough targets around here. I know everyone LOVES Vinsanity, it’s really unfashionable to call him out for anything he does, blah blah, etc. But am I the only one to notice that he dogged it up in Toronto before coming to the Nets? Am I the only one to think that he’s not that great without another complementary player on his side? Plus, if you want to keep sweat out of your eyes, STOP SHAVING YOUR HEAD. Just common sense.

6. Steve Nash. Most Valuable Player? More like Most Vicious Punk. Something about this Canuck sets my teeth on edge. It probably all started back when he questioned the war in Iraq — way to get some freedom of speech at the exact wrong time, pal, hope you can sleep at night knowing your comments got good Americans killed. I think it also has to do with his floppy hair, his lack of any defensive skills other than sneakily jumping out into the passing lanes, and his throwing Mark Cuban under a bus. Let’s see how you do without Amare Stoudamire to have your back, you hoser.

7, 8. Amare Stoudamire, Nene. Real men don’t get season-threatening or -ending knee owies before the season even starts. Pathetic.

9. David Stern. Making grown men dress like grown men isn’t the problem. Making everyone in the league bow and scrape and kiss your ring IS the problem. Stop consulting with the Bush aide about how to win the NASCAR dads back; we don’t need southern “fans” with their tomahawk chops and their moonshine cocktails. Basketball is a northern game ever since Naismith invented it, and it always will be. Loosen the reins before the horse dies.

10. All other basketball writers, pundits, commentators, play-by-play men, and so-called “experts.” You all make me sick. If I read or hear or watch one more puff piece by someone I don’t like about someone I don’t like, I’m gonna tear everyone a new one. Don’t think I can’t. I’m in great shape for my age.

Charley Rosen writes for FOXSports.com. He is the author of twelve books about college and pro basketball, and is a former coach of several different CBA teams.