Some members of the Phoenix Suns actively engage with fans on social media, fostering a connection that strengthens their bond with the fanbase. It’s like a modern-day version of Cheers, where everyone knows their name. They walk into the bar, expecting some high-fives and a couple of butt slaps. But the social media version of Cheers is filled with a bunch of Carla’s, complete with a sharp tongue, constant sarcasm, and aggressive attitude.

Social media is a double-edged sword. While it offers moments of praise and support, it is often the negativity that cuts the deepest. It’s a space dominated by keyboard warriors, where toxicity and hurtful comments abound. Damn Carla’s.

Jusuf Nurkic has been a frequent topic of conversation throughout 2024. From his underwhelming postseason performance against the Minnesota Timberwolves to becoming the centerpiece of fan-driven trade rumors, he’s had his share of criticism. Whenever he has an off-game — a reality for most mid-tier centers — the anti-Nurkic mob is quick to surface, loudly proclaiming that he’s not good enough for this team and that Phoenix can’t win a championship with him at the helm.

I’m not here to tell you if you’re right or wrong on the Nurkic topic. I know where I stand, and I’m sure you know where you stand. What I am hear to talk about is how Nurkic is absorbing the feedback and some poignant comments he made on the subject.

Nurkic, who is known to roam the social media streets, hears the criticism. Following the Suns’ victory over the Lakers on Tuesday night — a game in which Jusuf Nurkic played a pivotal role, scoring 10 consecutive points to open the third quarter and shifting the game’s momentum — he shared his thoughts with Duane Rankin of The Arizona Republic.

“I’ve been judged I feel like for the most of the part since I got here the most,” Nurkic candidly revealed. “It feels like everybody wants me to play the KD role but with two shots. It’s not how it works.”

I’m not entirely sure what Nurkic is getting at here. I don’t subscribe to the notion that anyone expects him to take on Kevin Durant’s role. When he says, “with two shots,” I get that he’s pointing out he won’t score many points if he isn’t taking, or being asked to take, more shot attempts. Perhaps he’s acknowledging that he can’t match Durant’s offensive output if he’s not getting the volume of opportunities.

At least, I hope that’s what he means. Because if Nurkic genuinely believes fans expect him to play like Kevin Durant, he might want to step away from social media for a bit. No one is saying that. No one ever has.

What we need from Nurkic is for him to focus on being the best version of himself: a reliable rebounder on both ends of the court, a defensive presence capable of altering shots, and someone who can finish layups when the opportunity arises. Perimeter defense would be nice, sure, but we understand that’s not his strength. His defensive style leans on dropping in coverage, which stems from his limited athleticism, and that’s fine, as long as he stays effective in his role.

“Trying to play through the injuries and everything for this team. I know who appreciates it,” Nurkic continued. “I don’t really meant to go out and try to prove anything. I know what I bring to the table and what I bring to the team.”

When asked about the noise, Nurkic responded, “It’s not real fans, man.”

“You out there, go out there in Phoenix everywhere, see the real fans. The internet ain’t real world, man. People are going to hate regardless.”

Nurkic has a point: the internet isn’t real. Sure, I’m writing this for a fan blog, but one thing that sets us apart here is our focus on promoting meaningful discourse. We want conversations to unfold in the comments because that’s how we converse and how we understand different perspectives. But let’s be honest, Bright Side is an exception.

Social media, on the other hand, is often a cesspool of judgment, cruelty, and harsh critiques, all dished out without accountability or the intention of fostering real dialogue.

I reflected on this during Thanksgiving. It’s a time to gather with family, enjoy some incredible food, and, inevitably, have debates over topics you may not see eye-to-eye on. Isn’t that how it always goes?

The difference is, in those face-to-face conversations, communication is richer. You’re not just exchanging words; you’re interpreting body language, tone, and expressions. Studies suggest that 55% of communication is non-verbal, and all of that is lost when the conversation is reduced to a string of text on a screen. Online exchanges strip away the humanity, the personalization, and the chance for empathy. Without those nuances, civil discourse often gives way to hostility.

Nurkic is right: people will hate, no matter what. He likely deals with plenty of individuals he’d label as “not real fans.” But here’s the thing: some of us are bigger fans than he might ever realize.

Part of being a fan is being critical. It’s not about blind loyalty or unthinking support. Of course, I back this team. Of course, I want them to succeed. But I’m also critical because I see where there’s room for improvement. That includes Nurkic.

Being a fan means wanting the best for your team, and that sometimes means pointing out their flaws, not out of spite, but out of hope for something better. It’s a difficult line to navigate when negativity constantly floods in through a stream of notifications.

“It’s all about gambling, people betting, trying to tell me what to do,” Nurk said. “It’s funny how that works.”

This is a fascinating observation and highlights one of the most significant cultural shifts athletes face today. Gambling on sports has always been part of the landscape, but the rise of online platforms has amplified its impact. Now, millions of people have a direct financial stake in players’ performances on any given night. When those players fall short of delivering the outcome needed to cash in on some random 7-leg parlay, the frustration is no longer contained. It’s broadcast through a torrent of online vitriol.

It’s a topic worth deeper consideration. Some argue that the growing prevalence of sports gambling is eroding the essence of the game itself. When combined with the unprecedented access fans have to players through social media, it’s easy to see the cracks forming. The focus shifts from appreciation of the sport to transactional outrage, reducing athletes to commodities whose value is tied to a payout.

In many ways, this evolution reflects a broader societal trend: the diminishing empathy in our interactions. Social media, combined with the financial stakes of gambling, has created an environment where the human element of sports is overshadowed. Athletes aren’t just playing for wins anymore, they’re playing under the constant scrutiny of those who see them not as individuals, but as line items in a ledger.

“It’s fun as long as it’s not personal,” Nurkic concluded.

The word “personal” carries a world of emotion within it. Words and actions may not be intended as personal, yet they often land that way, shaped by perception and context. Just take the comment that resulted in me being blocked on Twitter by Nurkic:

Misconstrued (I don’t think Nurkic understood the sArCaStIc FoNt), this was “personal” enough for the Bosnian Beast to say to himself “Yeah, I don’t want to hear from that guy” anymore, and he absolutely has that right.

Social media can be a lot of fun. Some of my closest friendships were born on the ‘ole internet, built on a shared passion for the Phoenix Suns.

But as Nurkic wisely points out: it isn’t real.

Like most athletes today, Nurkic faces pressures that no previous generation of players ever had to endure. Anonymity is a thing of the past. There’s no escaping the ever-present cameras, no true privacy anymore. Add the widespread influence of sports gambling, and the stakes become even higher.

The negativity? It’s always there, bubbling to the surface. The difference is, you only wade into it when you choose to go online. When you choose to do so it becomes as real as you allow it to be. And everyone knows his name.