We Americans spend the bulk of our time complaining about two things – politics and sports.

We do so completely oblivious to the idea that, just as we get the politicians we deserve, we also get the professional athletes we deserve.

One minute, we whine about this athlete being selfish or that athlete putting his stats, contract or own glorification ahead of the team. Then, the NBA Finals come along and pulls in MLS-like ratings because there aren’t enough superstars or, more likely, self promoters.

We complain ad nauseum about the chest-thumping, jersey-popping, crotch-grabbing pro, then we deride Tim Duncan for being too boring.

Duncan bashing was in season this past week. Seems the experts, who incidentally, either think the NBA died when Larry Bird retired or only tune in when the tatoo-to-piercings quotient matches Dennis Rodman levels, felt the two-time league MVP’s legacy hinged on Games 5, 6 and 7.

Duncan’s detractors were ready to issue him goat horns after Game 5 because of some shaky free throw shooting down the stretch. Luckily for the Spurs, Robert Horry ripped off his disguise as a mild-mannered sixth man and turned into “Big Shot Bob” in the fourth quarter and overtime.

Horry rightfully was credited with winning the game for the Spurs, but Duncan’s 26 points and 19 rebounds in 48 minutes and sending the Spurs back home up 3-2 in the series wasn’t enough for a lot of people. Duncan had to redeem himself in Game 6 (21 and 15 in a losing cause) and then Game 7. His standing as one of the greatest power forwards ever wasn’t at stake, the nattering nabalms conceded. But a subpar performance in the deciding contest would supposedly define him as just another Karl Malone, you know, give or take two or three championships.

Apparently, Duncan was just good enough for most people Thursday night. His numbers (25 points on 10-of-27 shooting, 11 rebounds) certainly don’t suggest that he played the greatest game of his life, and I’m not about to either.

But tell me, who put up almost half of those points and rebounds in the third quarter, when Detroit was threatening to run away with the game? This after missing his first six shots of the quarter. The last thing I’d label someone who keeps calling the ball in that situation, as Duncan did nearly every time down the floor, is soft.

If and when he got the ball, and I can count on two hands the number of times his teammates had the perfect passing angle and still didn’t get it to him, a double-team or triple-team quickly followed. Sometimes the Pistons were so busy running into each other in their rush to double Duncan that they actually left him open. He made them pay with a handful of 12-15 footers off the glass.

What, a bank shot? That’s so square. Who takes bank shots anymore? He should have at least faded away to make it look good.

When the defenders did converge on Duncan, it wasn’t long before the ball was kicked out to the perimeter, usually resulting in an open jump shot or a quick slash to the basket by Manu Ginobili.

Maybe Duncan should have just kept the ball and stubbornly shot through the double team. After all, it was his legacy that was on the line. Would you entrust your legacy to a ridiculously wide-open Bruce Bowen standing behind the 3-point stripe?

Duncan did. But we all know if Bowen and Ginobili and the others had missed those shots, and the Spurs had lost, people would be shouting that he didn’t want the ball in the tight spot.

Short of a 40-20 performance Thursday night, I doubt anything Duncan did would have been good enough for anyone but the likes of me, a Celtic fan whose still bitter about losing him in the Lottery and would gladly suffer his supposed inadequacies.

But it’s not because Duncan hasn’t proven time and again his ability to rise to the occasion. It’s something bigger. He doesn’t fit in today’s Fox News/Pardon the Interruption culture.

He’s not a polarizing figure or a Jordanesque pop culture icon, so he doesn’t provide fodder for the talk shows with self-serving behavior on or off the court. He doesn’t get the ESPN anchors all in a tizzy and talking slang with windmill dunks or behind-the-back passes. There’s really not a heck of a lot to say about Tim Duncan beyond what only the hard-core basketball fan would understand and appreciate about him, and that doesn’t do diddly for ratings.

This does not sit well with the media, or the millions of sheep out there who count on us to form, rather than inform, their opinions. If the athlete isn’t calling attention to himself, it makes the media’s job that much harder. And if the athlete doesn’t at least provide some exciting video or glib quotes or some life story that’s fit for a movie of the week, we’d just as soon give up and hang the most convenient label we can around his neck.

When that doesn’t work, as it doesn’t with Duncan, all that’s left for the media and the public is to marginalize him. In today’s world, if he can’t assault our senses or sensibilities, he’s of no use to us.

Just watch. The same thing will happen very soon to the New England Patriots. The media and fans outside New England are bored with the Pats, so it’s time for the backlash.

The American sports fan is rapidly going from not being able to embrace a boring winner to not being able to tolerate one. It’s just a matter of time until all of our professional athletes become “personalities” and all of our teams are judged not by their performance on the field but their ability to accumulate the most personalities. Championships will still be won on the field, court and ice (I think), but the bottom line, the business, will be so tilted toward the entertainment side of sports that winning, which is already secondary to too many owners and players, will become secondary to the fans.

Then the owners and players will be giving us what we really want, and boy, will we deserve it.