trash-talking
(trash-tok'ing) n. [Colloq.] the act of a person, usually an athlete, who talks to an opponent in an excessively boastful or scornful manner. See also: in your face, running your mouth, your mama
It is the rage of the schoolyard, the ball field and, if you're not careful with your housebroken adolescent, your dinner table. It's called trash-talking, and it's another gift from America's sports culture. Even Michael Jordan has been known to indulge. One late evening at the Olympics in Barcelona, the greatest basketball player in the world pulled his famous tongue back into his mouth and began using it on his fellow Dream Team superstars. He japed Larry Bird for having sunk to the role of a towel-waving bench warmer, then turned on Magic Johnson. "Without you," Jordan said, "playing the Lakers is like a vacation. This year I'm bringing my wife and two kids. But if you come back, I'm only bringing one kid."
Once upon a time this was just old-fashioned bench jockeying. But now jock banter has gone hip-hop and been given a new label. As black athletes have become increasingly dominant in pro basketball and football, they have brought with them the Zeitgeist of the playground. One central tenet: it's not enough to beat your opponent when you can humiliate him, too. Take, for example, the Seattle SuperSonics' brash young point guard Gary Payton. In a recent game, as the opposition scrambled back, yelling, "D-up," meaning "Tighten up the defense," Payton fired a perfect pass, producing an easy basket and his comment "D-up that, bitch." Payton's foe had given up not just two points but also a piece of his manhood.
While some "trash" is witty, most is a variation on the "I'm gonna," "You're gonna," "your mother" themes that, as NBA trash-talker Chuck Person says, "can't be printed in your family publications." It's prevalent enough-among both black and white jocks-to have prompted a backlash. Earlier this season, for instance, the Charlotte Hornets went on a four-game winning streak and arrived in Boston talking as though they had won a division title. The Celtics put a stop to the streak and the boasts. "I had no idea they talked that much trash," said Robert Parish, a veteran of three Celtics championship teams. "I was glad we could give them a slice of humble pie to calm them down." New York Knicks coach Pat Riley put a stop to some antics last month, too, when he benched three players after a trash-talking duel with Mark Jackson, a former Knick who was traded to the L.A. Clippers in September. After L.A. won the game and Jackson got the last word-"You want to talk garbage? Bring it on!"-Riley made "a maturing change" in his lineup.
At first, trash-talkers tried to psych themselves up and their opponents out. Larry Bird liked to inform opponents of his intention of scoring-and, on occasion, from exactly where on the court he would be shooting. M. L. Carr, a former Celtic known for his physical defense, took his inspiration from what Richard Nixon used to call the madman theory of foreign policy. "I'm going to end your career tonight," Carr recalls having warned opponents. "They knew I was crazy and would do anything to win, so they had to be thinking about it."
Today, by contrast, trash-talking is an end unto itself. Person knows he should shut up when pitted against the talents (and talkers) like Jordan and Charles Barkley, but admits, "I'll say something to anybody." That's because he views talking less as a weapon than as part of his personal style. When Person's hot, he'll shout at the opposing coach, "Get this f --- ing guy off me. He's killing your team." Next time down the floor, he'll add "It's a H-O-R-S-E game out there for me."
Run and taunt:
Similarly, pro football, with all its posturing, often resembles pro wrestling. Before the advent of NFL stars like "Neon" Deion Sanders, a runningback just used his hands to hold the football. Now the league should transform its punt, pass and kick contest into a run, point and taunt competition. No tackle is too routine, no five-yard gain too meager to become a cause of celebration. "Guys are behind by 30 points and they're running with their fingers in the air," says Will McDonough, NBC's NFL commentator. "Everybody's playing to TV now." Basketball's most famous ex-coach, Red Auerbach, thinks players resort to trash-talking for attention. "If Chuck Person didn't mouth off," says Red, "who would know who he is?" To talk some trash, Chuck would be a non-Person.
Another legendary coach, Paul Brown, counseled players who were overly demonstrative after scoring a touchdown, "Son, act like you've been there before." But today's pros are unlikely to be moved by such old-fashioned notions. They just might take note of Shaquille O'Neal, the sensational- rookie destined to succeed Michael Jordan as the dominant personality in the NBA. After more than holding his own in his first matchup with Dream Team center Patrick Ewing, O'Neal said, "Pat's a great player; I'm a pretty good player." Now that's really talking some trash.