Vitale in hoops hall of fame? It’s awful, bay-bee!

Let’s get this out first. I’ve heard Dick Vitale is one of the world’s nicest guys.

He gives to charity. He’s nice to animals and children. Just a prince of a guy.

I also love his enthusiasm for basketball. Nothing wrong with that. Hey, it’s a great game. What’s not to love?

But to induct Vitale into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame is a little like hiring John Daly as a spokesman for Alcoholics Anonymous.

Look at the inductees: Patrick Ewing, Hakeem Olajuwon, Pat Riley, Adrian Dantley … DICK VITALE?

Where do we start? The screaming? The cliches? His idea that no coach can ever be wrong? His screeching love affair with Duke? Listening to Dick Vitale describe a game is like 15 rounds with Joe Frazier in his prime. It’s not color commentary. It’s aggravated assault.

Here’s Vitale describing a backdoor layup: “AHHHHHHHHHWHOOOOOOO!”

Here’s Vitale describing a reverse slam: “AHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOAWWWW!”

This is wrong. His vocal cords, on which he, unsurprisingly, required surgery earlier this season, should be in Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Museum.

But that’s Vitale’s only body part worth honoring.