Eaasssssyyyyyy there, Draymond. Sir Charles may not be the physical beast he was back in his heyday, but I’d guarantee he’s still got some batshit in him. The man doesn’t give a single fuck. Never has. Never will. My advice for Draymond would be to tread lightly. Forget about getting punched, if Chuck is hungry he may attempt to eat him alive. This man was one of the toughest players in NBA history. Here’s Barkley as he insanely took on freaking Shaq in his prime while Barkley was literally on his last leg with the Rockets:
You think Barkley is afraid of Draymond, or anyone for that matter? Shit no. He’s never backed down from a fight on AND off the court. One of my favorite quotes ever was from after throwing a guy through a 1st floor window in a bar, Charles stood in front of the judge.
Judge: “Your sanctions are community service and a fine, do you have any regrets?”
Charles: “Yeah I regret we weren’t on a higher floor.”
You just don’t fuck with this man, plain and simple. My suggestion to Draymond would be to bury the hatchet ASAP over a round or 40 of beers with Sir Charles. Not just to squash the beef, but any excuse to drink with Barkley is a great excuse. The man is one of the best people/personalities in all the land. When I was living in Philly and Barkley was back in the Delaware Valley (like he is every Summer), I’m always on a full on perimeter search of every dive bar, casino, whorehouse, gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, hen house, outhouse and doghouse in the Philadelphia area. Why? Because he would be the best guy in the universe to shoot the shit with. I NEED to by him a crappy beer only for him to call it turrible. In fact, it’s been confirmed Charles Barkley is one of the chillest famous people in the world. If you see him out he’s very, almost scarily, approachable. He’ll even probably buy you a round or 12. The man’s the man. Although, this doesn’t apply to if you see him at the casino, which is basically every minute when he’s not at a bar. You never poke the biggest bear in the room when he’s either spewing chips or rolling hot on a heater.
Long live The Round Mound Of Rebound.