Having met and interviewed him many times for a variety of regional and national programs, it would be hard and perhaps impossible for me to say anything negative about Dick Vitale the man.

He is simultaneously engaging, witty, entertaining, charming, a font of basketball minutiae with no peer, and one who outwardly would seem to have not a single negative word for anyone at any time.

Criticize his style, the man smiles. Wish a pox on his family for making the wrong selection at tournament time, he turns the tables and makes himself the butt of a joke. Step on his dog, he would likely say the dog used to spar with Hulk Hogan and lives for the punishment.

He is, in one word, unflappable. I genuinely like the man.

The broadcaster is another issue. I respect what Dick has done, and the character he has created for himself and that has been created for him. Make no mistake, Dick Vitale plays a character on TV, just like any other performer. He is paid handsomely neither for his innate knowledge of the game (though he certainly knows more about it than some of the so-called analysts), nor his probing style of analysis (which many would say is non-existent).  

Dick Vitale is paid to entertain the masses.

He is paid to be the guy who yells at the top of his lungs "It's awesome, baby!!!" when a great play occurs instead of dissecting it and teaching you why it happened when it happened. He is rewarded for creating and nurturing catch phrases such as "HE'S A P-T-P'er Baby!!!" instead of boring you with X's and O's.

He has added to his fortune by using these natural and television-taught talents to sell everything from chicken wings to hooters, which can and many times are exactly the same thing. 

I respect Dick Vitale for his prowess as an entertainer. I applaud him for finding that niche allowing him to cash a hefty paycheck in the broadcasting profession, something that has become increasingly tougher to do for those who actually work at their craft.

I bow to his having been on the court, calling those plays, dealing with those players who wouldn't know how to spell "cat" if you spotted them the "C" and the "T" (my homage to Hollywood Henderson for those who caught the drift), and allowing even the follicle-challenged to have a role model other than Mike Tyson and Elmer Fudd.

But a member of the Basketball Hall of Fame? An elevation to stand alongside the immortals of the game on their level as legendary? No offense to Dick Vitale, but the induction is most certainly an offense to many of those already enshrined and those who must wait their chance despite being much more worthy of the honor.

I have long held in high regard those who run the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass. Attending their events as a member of the media and hosting network TV specials from their ceremonies allowed me to rub sharp elbows with many of the true greats of the sport.

I always walked into that Hall knowing that first and foremost they were concerned with the preservation of the game and those who truly belonged among their membership. Of the many Halls, this one, I believed, was truly beyond reproach.

I accept my punishment for being so naïve.

There are so many questions to be asked and so few answers. Why Dick Vitale before so many other deserving coaches, players, benefactors are left standing in the hallway?

Other than being the most recognizable pitchman for commercial products and employer ESPN, what has he done to improve the game itself? Has the Hall reached a point where simple mediocrity and even failure on the court itself is something to be rewarded? Did they simply have an extra plaque this year and needed to fill the slot at the last minute before the engraver started charging overtime?

Vitale's basketball legacy is a simple one and not exceptional at all.

He had a very respectable run at the University of Detroit, but no one was beating down his door to take over a truly powerful program. He was rewarded by the University for bringing it some success and notoriety, taking the job as Athletic Director. Maybe he would have stayed had the Detroit Pistons not come calling, hoping a known entity with a small following in Michigan could transform a franchise and sell tickets.

He failed miserably for a few obvious reasons. He wasn't ready for the jump, one that almost always devours great college coaches, but in his case spit him out like so much used chewing gum. And the Pistons were not exactly a model of front office efficiency to put it kindly.

Vitale's meaningful time in basketball was done and he knew it. Success at a minor college basketball program. Not cut out for being a bookkeeper. Disgraced in the pros. And younger guys were coming up every day.

So Vitale went to work behind the mic at ESPN and never looked back. He has certainly made a name for himself as a broadcaster. He has definitely helped make ESPN successful and has risen to a level of celebrity status where he can be instantly recognized by his trademark verbal calling card.

But what has he done for the game of basketball that is worthy of being called a Hall of Famer?

His critics are many, and many of their points are valid ones. He has long shown favoritism with certain coaches, if not all of them. Vitale still sees himself as a member of their fraternity, and is much too cozy with his buddies and their programs to ever be even slightly objective. This disqualifies him as any sort of true analyst/commentator, because his job is to take to task those who deserve it and praise those who earn it.

His analysis is more often than not, absent. Rarely will he ever break down or explain why a play happened, what could have happened, or what a better play might have been. This would mean the possibility of criticizing a coach, a player, a school, or perhaps the conference or the NCAA.

Vitale is too smart to ever bite the hand that has fed him so well over the years. Then again, remember that he is not, despite what he is billed as, an analyst. Dick Vitale is an entertainer.

A good friend who is in charge of a major basketball media outlet recently revealed that when speaking to his staff about commentators, they all agreed David Aldridge was the best of the bunch. They also agreed that the one person they would never want to analyze or call a game was Dick Vitale, in large part because HE'S ALWAYS SCREAMING AND NEVER REALLY ADDS ANYTHING OF VALUE TO THE GAME OR THE BROADCAST.

Another friend with thick ties to the college basketball community told me he loves Dickie V., but he would be better off with face paint, a red rubber nose and a dancing seal. I responded that Dick would probably think the idea was a hoot and he might ask the ESPN guys for a chance to try it out.

Don't try to sell me that idea that Vitale is one of the main reasons why college basketball has become so immensely broadcast popular, because it won't wash at any level. That would be an astounding insult to any number of broadcasting professionals from the TV networks down to the 1000-watt local radio station.

It would be a hard rebuke to every single producer, director, camera operator, or any other broadcast crew members who work for chump change compared to what some so-called talents pull down. It would belittle the young men and women who carry the water and the rock every night for your entertainment, their future paycheck, and a chance to build yet another lounge on campus for alumni.

I don't blame going to the Hall of Fame on Dick Vitale. On the contrary, all he did was accept what was given to him as any of us would. When he steps up to receive accolades at the Hall ceremonies, one should applaud him for being given such an honor. 

But there are many who will always question if he is deserving. A better idea would have been for the Hall of Fame to afford him a special honor for his broadcast efforts and all-around love of the game he has so passionately promoted and defended for almost all his adult life.

As when the Motion Picture Academy singles out someone for an Oscar that denotes a special relationship to the arts, but also makes the distinction that it is for something done outside the scope of production.

Guy V. Lewis, former coach of Houston. Twenty-seven straight winning seasons, 14 times in the NCAA Tournament, one of the first coaches to actively recruit and break the color barrier at a southern school.

Jim Phelan, former coach at Mount St. Mary’s with 830 victories, 49 years at one school turning out good kids.

Artis Gilmore. Dennis Johnson. Adrian Dantley. Don Nelson. The Basketball Hall of Fame has insulted each and every one of these men with more than just a "no thanks.” It has instead told each of them, and many more I haven't mentioned, your accomplishments mean nothing next to someone with a catchy phrase and a job on television.

With one announcement, the Basketball Hall of Fame has now become irrelevant.

It should be ashamed for such an affront to those the Hall was created for: Legends. 

One must now wonder if they even know the meaning of the word.