I love to pop. My intramural basketball team calls me “The Big Popper,” or at least I like it… I love to pop. My intramural basketball team calls me “The Big Popper,” or at least I like it when they do. Actually they haven’t ever done that, but I wish they would.

Unfortunately for my team, I don’t pop jump shots like we need. I choose the hipper, trendier, more controversial kind of popping, the one that has driven sports journalists and analysts alike wild as of late.

I choose to pop my jersey, a pandemic that traversed the college basketball landscape toward the tail end of the season and has become an absurd thing to argue about.

Pitt fans remember “jersey-popping” on a day near and dear to their hearts — Valentine’s Day. Point guard Carl Krauser, after leading the Panthers to a gut-wrenching, come-from-behind win in the Carrier Dome over rival Syracuse, celebrated in a harmless way.

He grabbed his uniform around his chest and “popped” the panel boasting PITTSBURGH, pulling it forward to display the school name to the crowd and camera, wearing a smile as wide as the sea of disappointed Orange fans accompanying the gesture.

This is what jersey-popping is. What the big deal about it is still escapes me.

Experts constantly trade barbs about the problems with this new fad, shared by teams of all sizes, skill levels and seeds. To those against it, jersey-popping is viewed as the “showboating” and excessive cockiness that college basketball has worked so hard to limit, particularly via automatic technicals for acts like hanging on the rim or trash-talking.

But for crying out loud, flashing a part of your uniform? What’s next, requesting punishment for congratulating a teammate?

Ben: Nice shot, Bob.

Bob: Thanks …

(Shhiiirrrk from the whistle)

Ref: Technical, congratulatory remarks.

It isn’t imperative to the integrity of college basketball, but the problem with jersey-popping is that it is getting this much scrutiny to begin with. Columns are written nation-wide, shows like “Pardon The Interruption” have it as a topic, and magazines like Sports Illustrated even rag on it.

When I see a player “pop” his jersey, it reminds me of an adage my old coaches used to say to me, something most coaches instill in their players. “The name on the front of the jersey is more important than the one on the back,” a clever, backhand way of reminding players the team is more important than the individual.

It’s not as if players are popping the back of their jerseys, where the individual name lies, after a great play. Flashing the front of your jersey after a game-changing run or landmark victory could even be construed as, gasp, pride — and who would want a player to be proud of an institution where he gets a college education and plays basketball at a competitive level?

Showboating isn’t something the sport should be proud of, but it is something that people need to realize will never be completely curbed. Players will find a way to draw attention by way of things other than incredible athletic ability no matter what, so is there a reason to scrutinize this method — one that isn’t really that bad?

Jersey-popping doesn’t hurt anybody, and it puts no player on the court at risk. The biggest risk is that a player rips his jersey, something so laughable that it should almost be encouraged just to see if it actually happens to somebody. There are just too many other things players could do to show off that are worse than the popping.

But there are still some who call it a ludicrous and punishable offense, calling for technical fouls to be issued to players caught in the act of popping. Who knows, in a few years, being proud of your school and who you represent virtually every second you are awake may also be deemed worthy of a penalty.

Coaches typically also instill a second value in their players at young ages when it comes to scoring goals, points or really anything that involves scoring — “act like you’ve been there before and expect to do it again,” a la Larry Fitzgerald in his two-year stint at Pitt. After every touchdown, the superstar calmly handed the ball to the referee and trotted back, poised to do it again.

This is the ideal, but it is also not realistic when so many players play at such a high level. The cameras and national attention also prompt players to do crazy things when the lights brighten and the ball is tipped. Players are going to celebrate, and there are worse things they could be doing than popping jerseys.

Pride is something special in college basketball. There’s something majestic about it that is lost in the millions of dollars and constant team changes in the pros. Once a player goes to the NBA, the only thing he may have left to pop is the back of his jersey because the front changes too quickly to even grab the fabric.

So, in spite of all of the jersey-popping critics, I myself have become a popper. Not only because I am proud of my winless team, but because I know it annoys people for no apparent reason. I will pop my basic white, cotton t-shirt proudly so long as experts continue to talk about it. The next time I make a shot, and we lose by 16 instead of 18, I will pop my jersey to all the pop-haters.

Hopefully we aren’t the skins team next week though, because that hurt last week.

Geoff Dutelle is the assistant sports editor of The Pitt News. Pop him a message at [email protected].