Colin Cowherd Podcast - Bears Stadium Fight, Can Wemby Be The Face Of The NBA? Luka’s Liabilities, Colin As An AI

All right, let’s chop it up for 45 minutes. Slowest stretch of the year, so let’s start with the Bears’ stadium drama and why any move out of Illinois feels like nonsense against a savvy governor in a true blue‑blood sports town.

This whole thing is a joyless tax play. The McCaskeys want to own a modern venue but lack outside wealth, Soldier Field has long been a headache, and this is just leverage to get a better deal in Arlington Heights.

I live near Arlington Heights, so I’m not driving to Hammond. Indiana’s not footing a bill for a team its fans do not love, and Chicago’s the better stage.

Kevin Warren’s bluster about shovels never materialized, so this is political chicken. They bought the racetrack land for a reason; I think they end up right there.

Post‑football, my clock’s set to the NFL draft with March Madness and the Masters in the mix; the NBA’s trickier without a single face. Do you still ride with it?

I love it and the playoffs still pop. Parity hurts the regular season but makes the postseason chippy and compelling, so after NFL offseason talk, the NBA playoffs are my number two.

The league’s had only a handful of true faces, and while Wemby is a defensive cheat code, his offense doesn’t grab me the way Jordan or Steph did.

He makes pros back out of the paint like it’s a Nerf hoop, and his offense will grow if they play through him more. He’s so young that the ceiling still stretches.

Stars who do not defend get hunted in seven games, which is why Luka needs long wings who can switch and shoot. The Lakers have to win shootouts, and that’s a bad bet in the West.

Luka can absolutely be the best player on a champion if you flood the roster with elite defenders and catch‑and‑shoot guys. The Knicks are good, but two defensive targets in your top duo caps the ceiling.

LeBron means less to Laker mythology than Magic and more to the NBA at large, so the franchise can move on while the league still leans on him.

He’s still must‑see, even taking up golf, and I do wonder what our shows talk about once he’s gone. Without a polarizing headliner, we default to teams like the Knicks and Celtics.

The NBA hums loudest with a galvanizing star, which is why we talk brands and markets more now.

Wemby could short‑circuit the usual timeline and win early, which would change everything. He does stuff that looks physically impossible and that alone can hook fans.

Bigs rarely move merch and he’s not relatable in the way a guard is, so the cool factor is still a question.

I’m more worried about macro issues like injuries, load management, and too many threes than about future stars. Basketball keeps making them, and names like Cooper Flagg are coming.

Fox built an AI that talks like me, and I see it as a tool, not a doomsday machine; I’ll still pick up the phone for my accountant because humans comfort.

Like social media, AI will help and hurt at once—there will be job loss but also medical breakthroughs we desperately need. Live TV feels relatively safe, even if some newsroom tasks get automated.

I’m out on the combine—over‑rehearsed, stars sit, agents polish, and October injuries turn 40 times into trivia.

It’s the underwear Olympics made for TV, and I never found it meaningful beyond measurements.

Regular‑season college hoops lost juice for me, but those four March days from 64 to 16 are still electric.

If you’re under 40, you missed peak boxing and the Big East at full boil—pure theater.

I caught the tail end at Syracuse—media days at the Garden felt huge, and Bayheim once called my show to argue about who should bring the ball up, which was glorious and humbling.

Coaching matters—programs like Villanova and Syracuse show it, and Bayheim turned a remote campus into a draw.

He sold a matchup zone, freedom on offense, and the Dome’s massive crowds, then recruited a Northeast pipeline that made it feel like the pros.

On Darren Peterson, I’m uneasy about the confidence wobble; in a stacked class I might slide him off the top spot if it lingers.

The tape screams decade‑long All‑Star scorer, so workouts and interviews will matter, but his range still looks one to two with Debantsa right there and Boozer safer with a lower ceiling.

Vacation note to end on a smile: dawn tee time alone, back by late morning to splash with the kids, dinner with my wife, then blackjack and music—repeated for six perfect days.

Love it, and love when you drop by—appreciate you, buddy.