A recent chat with Milwaukee Bucks forward Glenn Robinson reminded me of an incident with my little brother, my junior by six years. I was about 15 and had some friends over when he walked through the room. He just happened to be carrying all his soccer trophies, an armful. I teased him -- regrettably -- for such a bald-faced attempt to garner our respect and attention.

Robinson is a lot like my brother.

If you live outside of Milwaukee or Big Dog’s hometown of Gary, Ind., the All-Star voting suggests your impression of him is not far from what mine has long been: Undersized small forward. Good jump shooter. Disinterested defender. Not particularly strong or quick. Decidedly overpaid and seemingly out of shape. First-rate grouch. Above all else, a tad selfish.

That impression wasn’t hard to form because a lot of it was true; it’s lingered because he doesn’t have a highlight-making game or a reporter-friendly demeanor. We like our stars a little salty on the floor and buttery in the locker room. For quite a few years Glenn seemed to be the exact opposite.

He’s been selected to the All-Star team by the coaches two years running now, but that hasn’t diminished his overall rep as a guy who looks better on paper than hardwood. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t shy about letting me know what makes him special. He rattled off a list of accomplishments, including the fact that he’s the only lottery pick from the ’94 draft who is still with his original team, and that, unlike ’94 co-rookie of the year winners Jason Kidd and Grant Hill, he’s been to the conference finals. (He’s clearly still disappointed about being the No. 1 pick, leading all rookies in scoring, and finishing behind them in the ROY voting.)

He mentioned two or three other distinctions involving his rookie and career scoring averages (21.9 and 21.2), along with a comparison of everyone in the ’93 and ’94 draft classes. I didn’t write them down, figuring they’d be in the Bucks’ media guide, only to discover neither the Bucks nor the NBA had anything beyond the basics. Big Dog apparently had done his own research.

Robinson also noted that after hearing he was just a scorer, he bumped his rebounding average from 6 to 6.9. Or that after hearing he didn’t play defense, he started off this season among the league’s top 10 in steals (2.45) before a bruised left thigh took him down 12 games ago. (He's expected to rejoin the Bucks for Wednesday's practice.)

That’s where my opinion began to shift. Glenn wasn’t simply demanding respect; he seemed willing to make an effort, on and off the court, to back his argument. His tone wasn’t bitter but pleading. "What do I have to do?" he asked. He’d heard every criticism and tried to address them.

"I figured if you played hard, you wouldn’t have to say anything," Glenn says. "But I feel I don’t get enough credit for the things I’ve done."

No matter how justified, that kind of comment generally comes off as sour grapes. But his teammates agree.

"He is different," says forward Mark Pope. "Before he got hurt, I remember thinking, 'He’s really trying to get somebody else a shot and he’s really trying to get after it on defense.' He was doing those things on purpose, not penetrating and then kicking because he was forced to."

He didn’t have to walk around the Bucks’ practice facility with a cake on Jan. 10, either, offering a piece to anyone who wanted to celebrate his 29th birthday with him.

So he’s still undersized, still not particularly strong or quick, still a good jump shooter. I’ll back off the rest.

If nothing else, I figure I owe it to my brother.

Ric Bucher covers the NBA for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at ric.bucher@espnmag.com.