Lover's Scorn

OK, let's get this out of the way; I am adding a new commandment to my blog: Thou shalt never mention Brett Farve again. If I have to acknowledge from henceforth he will be referred to as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". Anyone who mentions "You-Know-Who" by name will be subject to arrest and punishment.

Now that we have taken care of one egotistical, narcissistic, attention starved, and slightly neurotic athlete, let's talk about another (jk, I love LeBron, lol). Because this was a relatively low-key story, I feel it is my responsibility as a journalist to look at it from every angle, dig up every detail and be more unbiased than Bill O' Reilly is with Barack Obama (seriously, this is a big story, how could no one have covered or discussed this). Anywho, LeBron jolted his dried up ex-team, the Cleveland Cavaliers, for his new, sexy team, the Miami Heat. LeBron saw a greater opportunity and took it; no one should blame him for it. LeBron joins Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade to form the most powerful trio since the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost (I hereby christen these guys the Justice League! Great moniker, right!?).

But, as in all relationships, there is the break-uper and the break-upee. The Cleveland Cavaliers were the break-upee (as evidenced by this letter from Cavs owner Dan Gilbert, you can practically smell the tears and the vodka). In a recent interview with GQ, LeBron finally responded to said letter, "I don't think he ever cared about LeBron." I give LeBron extra points for referring to himself in the third person (He's like Lord Voldermort; he refers to himself in the third person, and he is better than the rest of us). However, LeBron is wrong; Dan Gilbert loved LeBron. He needed LeBron; it's like getting hit with divorce papers after 40 years of marriage. Dan became a shut in, he did not like going out, and he took his partner for granted; meanwhile LeBron stayed in shape, stayed in-tune with pop culture (thanks to my blog) and finally got tired of his loyality being assumed. To save a doomed marriage, Dan allowed him to stay out all hours of the night, come home when he felt like it, and even made sure his dinner was ready when he finally came home from with lipstick on his collar and a missing tie (ok, I am taking this a little too far).

Dan believes if he can't have LeBron, no one can! He cried, yelled, cursed; heck, the only thing he did not do is set himself on fire like the Roman wives when their husbands died (he did beg, this guy is an accurate re-enactment of Dan Gilbert). I am sorry to break it to Dan but...LeBron has found someone else; someone younger, better looking, and dude, let's face it, it's South Beach (you can frown if they want but tell me if you want to live in a city nicknamed, "The Mistake By the Lake")! So Dan, if you are reading this (I know you are) listen: You have to let LeBron go; I know it's hard. Who knows, maybe you will luck up and find someone who likes you for you (not likely but hey, hope springs eternal). Maybe after you put down the Jack Daniels and Orange Juice, you will realize this break-up was for the best. You will get back in shape, start dating again and maybe even come face-to-face with LeBron and talk about the good times. But, until then, stay strong!

I'm Back!!!!

Hi everybody! I know, I know, it's been too long! I stopped writing without any explanation but I assure you this blog was not canceled (this blog is critically acclaimed; though that did not save Arrested Development) but fear not; for I am back and better than ever. It has been brought to my attention that I broke one of my ten commandments but believe me when I say I will never break them again(I have given myself one hundred lashes; they were very painful and it just stopped hurting to sit down).

So, the one-trillion dollar question: Donte', how was your summer? Well, I saw the majestic black dolphins of Quahog, I traveled to Colorado and learned how to rap in Spanish, I planted an idea in the mind of a prominent basketball player (I even met this guy), and last but not least I wrote a book but that was nothing compared to everything else. I guess the next question is: How did I pay for all of these trips? Well...(I am not proud of myself; I got a chest contusion after too many chest bumps) but that's neither here nor now, the important part is that my summer was awesome (though I will never be able to bro-out ever again)!

So, for all the sports blogs that have started up in my absence and thought I would not come back, I am telling you to CEASE AND DESIST (That's right, I just used all caps). This is your only warning: If you continue I am coming after you, Michael Corleone style (that was a bit extreme, I take it back...kinda)! I am serious when it comes to my return; I'm hungrier than Mike Tyson after eating his opponents children and angrier than a Mel Gibson voicemail. I'm focused and ready to give the bloggersphere the unfiltered truth (well, as much as humanly possible). There's nothing else to say...I'm back!

Don't Tase Me Bro!

The infamous words uttered by this University of Florida student have found new relevance this week. (Because I am a student at the University of Georgia, I am legally obligated to say this Florida student is stupid...and he smells funny.) On Monday night, a fan at the Philadelphia Phillies game found out the answer to the question, "What's the worse that could happen?" when he ran out on the field during a game and was promptly tased (oh wait, was that the wrong video? Okay, here's the right one.) While people are debating if the police used excessive force, I say, meh, he got what he deserved. Okay, so he is 17 and he asked his dad for permission; how was security supposed to know? He could have been some lunatic with deadly ambitions in his heart (it is not like it has not happened in a baseball game before). With this in mind, the worse always has to be assumed. Even if he meant no harm and thought it would be hilarious...well, it was for me (lmfao, I guess that is what these kids are saying these days). It was a split-second decision; it was impossible to know his intent. If anyone thought the force was excessive, then obviously they have never run onto a field before; the force is always excessive. Be it by taser or being hit by a 250-pound football player, the point is if you are dumb enough to run out onto a field, then you deserve what happens. Plus it is so cliche', like proposing at a baseball game. (Like running onto a field, do it at your own risk).

Because 75% of people need dramatic examples to convince them doing something dumb actually has consequences, it is nice to have a dramatic example. People read signs and take them with a grain of salt but they will remember that guy who got tased. Will it still happen? Well, of course. Look at my statistic: 75% of people believe it cannot happen to them until it does. For example, with as many celebrity men who have been caught cheating on their wives a rational person would say, "You know, maybe men should not cheat on their wives." They did not believe it could happen to them, and this was after we all witnessed a dramatic example of what could happen. What happens in these situations is that the other 25% say to themselves it is a bad idea and they will never do it, or they are doing it and they need to stop before ending up like our friend in the picture above. (This picture is the perfect allegory for life, someone is always chasing after you with a taser). So 17-year old tased Phillies fan, if you are reading this (I know you are!) I believe despite the beleaguered look on your face in the picture above, you are a (relatively) law abiding citizen who did something stupid. We all do something stupid from time to time. I do believe you will never do it again. If it happens again, then your judgment is no better than mine, as evidenced by this video!

Wild Wild West

In my infinite wisdom, I have managed to connect my Western short story from last week to my story this week. My story this week talks about Roger Goodell and how he is trying to bring law and order to the NFL. Now, it is no secret in recent years the NFL has had a problem with their player's behaving badly off the field. All sport leagues have this problem: the NBA is just coming out of their disciplinary problems, and baseball players have seen more syringes than crackheads in Harlem. The NFL, however, has been dominating the news over the past three seasons. From Michael Vick to Donte' Stallworth to Ben Roethilisberger, it has been a mess.

When Roger Goodell took over, the NFL became (and still is) the king of the hill on the sports landscape. With that said, the discipline policy under his predecessor was lax if not non-existent. For example, Leonard Little committed vehicular homicide while driving drunk. His punishment: an eight game suspension. I know some people would feel that is fair; until he was caught driving drunk again! He was not punished for the latter offense. This guy should be banned! Say what you will about Pete Rose, but he never killed anyone! Oh, then there was the love boat scandal (if you don't read any other link, read this one) where no one received punishment. (While video of the incident cannot be shown, this is an accurate re-enactment).

Enter Roger Goodell. No more DUI's, no more sexy parties. I cannot say I blame Goodell. After only 4 months on the job, Darrent Williams was killed in a drive by shooting. A couple of weeks later Adam "Pacman" Jones showed what happens when making it rain goes wrong when he was involved in a Las Vegas shootout. Things were getting out of hand and something needed to be done. While I do not agree with all of his decisions (Michael Vick being one of them) I will say he has been consistent. Ben Roethilisberger may not have been convicted but will still get punished. Sometimes extremes have to be taken when necessary (especially with a guy like this running around). So, Commissioner Goodell, if you are reading this (I know you are), remember: there was a point when the west was won. The law established itself and the lone ranger mentality was no longer needed. Your policies work now, but there will come a point when they will no longer be needed and you will have to give up that power. If you continue to be judge, jury and executioner it will only lead to one logical outcome: revolt. Well, in your case maybe an impeachment, but you get my point. Wow, that was heavy! I want to end on a funny note. Time for a random youtube video!

The Revenge of John Brown

(Disclaimer: I have decided to change it up this week. This is not a sports story; it's a short story. I hope you enjoy.)

May 9, 1867

"Hey Johnny, get me another beer!"

"No! You haven't paid for the last one!"

"You know I'm good for it! I am about to win this next hand."

"Then you woke up from your dream."

Everyone laughs.

"Screw you, Parker. I'm winning!"

Arnold never wins. He is always losing. Day after day he comes into my bar, gets drunk and loses money. I'm tired of him.

The door opens and a man comes in. The light is blinding me. He stands like a long shadow in front of the door. As he starts walking forward, I notice he is wearing a black vest, black shoes, black overcoat, black boots, and black hat. Well, I'll be: a Negro! He's about medium height and clean shaven with eyes as black as coals. He is strongly built. He looks stoically over at the card table, walks over and sits down at the empty seat across from Arnold.

"You don't mind if I join you boys, do you?" he asks in a low, raspy voice.

"Who are you calling boy!?" Nick exclaims as he pounds the table.

"Nick, calm down." Parker says.

"Yeah Nick, we're progressive folks 'round these parts." Arnold laughs.

Nick sits back down in his seat to the right of the Negro.

"Let's start a new game since we have a guest," Arnold says with a grin.

Nick takes the cards and shuffles them. He passes them to the Negro, who gives five cards to everyone.

"So, do you have a name stranger?" Arnold asks.

"John Brown," the Negro answers.

"What, like the guy they hung a couple years back?" Parker inquires, now interested.

"The same," Brown replies emphatically.

"Figures!" Nick says as he puts down a card.

"So, Mr. Brown: what brings you 'round here?" Arnold asks.

"I'm just passing through," Brown answers.

"Well, everyone's passing through," Parker retorts as he drinks from his beer.

"I'm heading West," Brown answers more directly.

"Why?" asks Arnold.

"You guys sure are talkative! Are we playing or what!" Nick blurts out.

"Nick, what's wrong? We're just being friendly," Parker says.

"Like you've never seen a colored!" Nick yells, becoming increasingly irritated.

"Nick, I'm sure Mr. Brown doesn't mind---"

"Stop calling him Mr. Brown!" Nick snaps at Arnold.

"John will do," Brown says calmly as he gently puts his cards face down on the table.

"Okay, John," Nick replies, slapping his own cards down.

They go back to playing the game. Arnold is losing as usual, but Brown is not doing too bad. Though every once in a while Nick gives Brown a dirty look, Brown is not deterred. Arnold finally breaks the silence.

"So John, what brings you here?"

Arnold always starts talking when he starts losing.

"I'm searching for my brother," Brown explains.

"Well, no offense, but I don't think he's here," Arnold laughs, nearly choking on his beer.

"He's not my blood brother. We were brothers of the same cause," Brown continues.

"So, what are you going to do when you find him?" Arnold asks, picking up everyone's cards to start a new game.

"I'm going to kill him," Brown states matter-of-factly.

"Wow, that's heavy!" Arnold chuckles, messing up the cards while shuffling.

"Well, it's a loyalty thing," Brown says.

"Ain't that right!" Arnold agrees.

"He was the son of a slave owner, but he had a change of heart. He said he believed all men should be free. Then people started dying, and somewhere between saying and doing, his beliefs dissolved," Brown elaborates.

"A deserter? I thought you abolitioners stay together?" Nick chimes in.

"It's not about his being against slavery. He joined a cause and he was supposed to see it through," Brown says.

"Amen to that!" Parker shouts.

"He betrayed the people he volunteered to help. Even to a man like me that's cold," Brown states while seeing the cards he has received.

"Sounds like one hell of a guy," Arnold says smiling.

"Yeah, he's pretty funny too," Brown laughs.

"Really?" Nick responds flippantly, looking at his cards.

"Y'all want to hear a joke?" Brown asks.

"As long as it's funny," Arnold chuckles.

"Alright. Hope I tell it right. A lawyer married a woman who had previously divorced two husbands. On their wedding night, she told her new husband, 'Please be gentle, I'm still a virgin.' And the man asked, 'How can that be if you've been married two times?' And she said, 'Well, husband #1 was a doctor and all he cared about was how I felt. Husband #2 was a stamp collector, all he ever did was...God! I miss him! But now that I've married you, I'm really excited!' 'Why?' the new husband asked. 'Well, you're a lawyer. This time I know I'm gonna get screwed!'"

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!.. wow!" Nick and Parker shout.

Everyone is laughing but Arnold.

"Isaac?" Arnold says in disbelief.

It was the quickest draw I have ever seen. Arnold frantically grasps his throat, falling to the floor, bleeding to death. Brown stands up, walks towards Arnold and kneels down beside him. Nick and Parker are stone-faced.

"I---I---thought," Arnold hisses as he is holding his throat.

"You thought I wouldn't find you?" Brown asks mockingly.

"That---was eight years ago!" Arnold says weakly.

"Time does not heal all wounds. Betrayal does not deserve forgiveness," Brown explains unemotionally.

Arnold's head hits the floor and he lets go of his throat. Brown takes off his hat and places it over the dead man's face. Brown gets up and walks toward the door, the light blinding me as he leaves. I look back at Arnold. Arnold never wins; he's always losing.

Escape from Philadelphia?

I have read my posts from the past two weeks. I have no idea what got into me. Apparently I was possessed by the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe. Everything was so serious; I need to lighten up, like this guy (he has a wonderful way of looking at life). The topic this week revolves around whether the Eagles should or should not trade Donovan McNabb?

Donovan McNabb has always had the deck stacked against him. He was booed on draft day, he was called an overrated quarterback by the KKK's own Rush Limbargh, and then there was the T.O. saga. McNabb has never got the respect he deserved. All he has done is lead the Eagles to four consecutive NFC East Championships, five NFC Championship games, and a Superbowl. He has also made six Pro Bowls, and he is the least intercepted quarterback in NFL history. Oh yeah...he has great highlights!

So, what is Donovan's reward for putting the Eagles back on the sports world map? Getting shipped to the blackhole: that's right, the fudging Oakland Raiders! To the members of my audience who are sports illiterate, let me put it to you like this: Oakland blows. I cannot come up with enough synonyms to describe the suckitude of the Oakland Raiders. To put it politely: I would rather go hunting with Dick Cheney before I go see an Oakland Raiders game. I would take my chances with trying to pass Kermit the Frog on a canoe (funny thing happened...) . Going to Oakland is like dying a very painful death (after all, this is their owner). Donovan deserves better.

So, should the Eagles trade Donovan McNabb? Well, no. Eagles head coach Andy Reid drafted and developed McNabb. They have been through thick and thin. They're like twins; well, except one is black and the other is, um....just look. Anywho, you get what I'm saying! They're Ebony and Ivory, Sherlock Holmes and Watson, Ike and Tina, so on and so forth. If one goes, so should the other. Why would any team trade its best player and hand the offense over to an unproven quarterback on a team with Superbowl aspirations? It's like starting a war then invading another country before the war is done (oh wait...). So, Andy Reid, if you are reading this (I know you are), finish what you start with the person who got you there. Let's face it; you and Donovan have been together for about 11 years. If you divorce now, you will never find anyone better. Then 10 years from now when Donovan finally gets recognized for his greatness and you're old and bitter, it will be your fault.

When It All Falls Down

(The following story is not for the faint of heart. Parental guidance is strongly advised.)

Antoine Walker. He was an High School All-American in 1994. He was an NCAA Champion in 1996. Sixth overall pick in the 1996 Draft. In 1999, he became the proud new owner of a six-year, 71 million dollar deal. He won an NBA Championship in 2006. As of 2010, he is out of the NBA. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that he is in lots of debt?

So how could a man who has earned over $110 million dollars over his 13 year career lose it all? How could a player who once fearlessly hoisted 3-point shots now be afraid to answer his phone because of debt collectors? How could a 3-time former All-Star who averaged 17.5 points per game and 7.5 rebounds per game during his career only average 13 points and 10 rebounds for the Guaynabo Mets (?) of the Puerto Rican Basketball Federation?

I know this is a story we have all heard before. The top three reasons why celebrities lose their money: a) Their manager took it. b) drugs. c) sex (having baby mommas can get expensive; just ask this guy.) In Antoine's case there was an addiction but not to drugs. Antoine was addicted to pleasing people. He got high off making his driveway look like a car dealership showroom. He enjoyed the thrill of betting big on blackjack. Antoine was higher than Lil' Wayne during one of his recording sessions. However, like all addicts, Antoine came crashing down from that high.

It is unfortunate to see someone with this much money lose it all; it is even sadder when his only crime is that he cared too much. Antoine is not a bad guy. I know this is a tragedy, a regular cliche, but they are called cliches for a reason: 10 times out of 10 they are true. I find it mind boggling (and almost offensive) that someone could spend that much money in his lifetime. This is mainly, but not entirely, due to my cheapness. Some people will say, "Hey, he's stupid" or "That's what he deserves" but frankly, no one deserves this. I would not wish his fate on my worst enemy (if I actually had one). Most people will shake their heads. Some people may even have the nerve to say, "What a waste!"

The truth is Antoine Walker has had these thoughts more than he may care to admit. I am sure he has looked at his face in the mirror and did not recognize the person staring back at him. The truth is Antoine has beaten himself up more than anyone else could ever do. So, Antoine, if you are reading this (I know you are) I cannot relate to what you have been through. I know you were young and never had lots of money until Rick Pitino dumped a garbage truck full of it on your front lawn. I was born into a situation where I did not want for anything. I cannot tell you anything that you have not already heard. Antoine, you are in a unique position. You have the ability to truly give something back: your story. It is probably the furthest thing from your mind right now, but you do not have to be one of those guys who gives empty advice. Your words have weight to them now. You can tell young players that sometimes the only way to help people is to be selfish (you can't help your family and friends if they cannot help themselves). Sometimes saying "no!" is not always a bad thing. If you tell your story the right way then it will be one of triumph rather than defeat. I have a special interest in seeing you get back up: I want to see you shimmy one last time. So Antoine, after you get through this, smile and shimmy.

Iverson's Song

I remember as a child, I dreamed of being a basketball player. I fell head over heels with basketball at 8 years old. I was an average player, but I still dreamed. I always thought I would grow to be 6 feet tall or taller. I thought I would be a shooting guard or small forward (which is my natural position). I thought I was going to be a great shooter, passer, defender and rebounder. I dreamed of being that guy who would walk into his huddle, show his teammates his back and tell them, "Let me carry you guys." I thought these things and did not say them out loud for good reason. The reality is that by the time I got to high school, I was 5'8" and I would only grow one more inch. All the guys I used to be taller than shot past me. Add that to my low confidence and you could imagine why I did not think I could ever be great, let alone good. At this point, however, I discovered a player who was barely 6 feet tall and weighed less than I. He was a blur on the court, crossing over people left and right (I smiled looking at this). He was a phenomenon. The NBA has never seen anyone like him: his cornrows, his tattoos, his way of playing the game. One can imagine this made quite the impression on a 14 year-old introvert like myself. He represented a confidence that I have only begun to embrace now. The guy I am talking about is Allen Iverson.

After realizing that I will not be the next Michael Jordan, I started patterning my game after Allen Iverson. I worked on my ball-handling and tried to copy his mannerisms (on the court). I tried to make myself into an Allen Iverson clone. Obviously, I am not a great basketball player. (If I were maybe I could be helping Georgia right now because Lord knows they need it). I wanted to be Allen Iverson. I did not care about Kobe; he was too perfect. Tracy McGrady was too passive. Vince Carter was half-man/half-injured. Iverson played hard every night; he left everything out on the floor. He represented all of the undersized basketball players who have ever played the game.

While Iverson may not have been a perfect person, he was a perfect basketball player. A guy with his build was not supposed to dominant a game like he did. He would drive to the rim and finish shots with lots of contact and still come back for more, like he was addicted to the pain. There have been several occasions where he would miss a wide-open jumper only to come down and make a more difficult shot. It was like he needed chaos to be successful. This is reflected in his relationship with Larry Brown. They were the most famous dysfunctional couple this side of Eminem and Kim. However, it is no coincidence that Iverson had the best years of his career under Brown. After Brown left, Iverson would not be the same. The Phildephia 76's grew tried of Iverson and traded him to Denver (guess who became my new favorite team?). Denver did not become the powerhouse everyone thought they would, so he got traded to Detroit for Chauncey Billups, who led Denver to the Western Conference Finals in his first year. ...And did AI do the same for Detroit? Well, not so much.

It was a sad sight to see when no team wanted to pick up my favorite player. He ended up signing with the Memphis Grizzles, for goodness sake (for the people who are sports illiterate, Memphis Grizzles is another word of sucky). He put on a good face during the press conference, but no one thought that it would last. He was soon released. How could this be happening? Then, he retired, but no one thought that would last either. Then, like any long-term couple that breaks up, the 76's called up Iverson and asked, "How is it going?" Before long, they have rekindled their love affair (and like any love affair Iverson sealed his re-commitment with a kiss). Iverson was not the same, but darn it, he was back where he belonged! This moment, however, was only temporary. Reality came back home and kicked the dream out of his house. The reality is that our heroes do not necessarily go out the way we want them to. The reality is that Allen Iverson's daughter is sick. The reality is that his time is up (Father Time is undefeated against aging athletes). The reality is that Iverson may truly be done as an NBA player. Even after everything that has happened, I still hold out hope that the guy I grew up watching will come back. I still imagine he has one or two crossovers left in him. I want to see him play again for selfish reasons, but reality has set in and dreams are fleeting. So Allen, if you are reading this (that would make my day), I want to say thank you. I cannot and will not be objective about you. To me, you are the greatest player ever. In my mind I will always see the young man who turned the NBA on its ear, the man who had more highlights tapes than Lil Wayne has mixtapes, and the man who showed a 14 year-old child that only the size of someone's heart matters, not their height.

Hello World

Sorry, I had to include this picture of Tiger because he looks blacktastic. Any who, if you all have been following my blog since my first post (and I know you have because this blog has more followers than Scientology; I am converting Tom Cruise as I type), then you are well versed in my ten commandments. Quickly: what is commandment number 5? If you guessed "honor thou mother and father", then maybe this blog is not for you (I have committed so many blasphemies on this blog that I am surprised my readers have not spontaneously combusted). The correct answer is "I will not make fun of Tiger Woods (because the poor kid has been through a lot)." Because I am a man of my word (like this guy), I will not bury Tiger because, honestly, he is boring. So what, he cheated. I do not agree with it, but it happened in December. It is time to put that horse out to pasture. I am more interested in the idea of why people are so disappointed in Tiger.

When Tiger first turned pro, he was all smiles, and with a great deal of shyness, he said, "hello world." Many people thought this was refreshing...until this commercial came out before people could get use to the fact his name is Tiger. From that point on he won majors, made lots of money and did great philander...sorry, philanthropist work. He had such a squeaky clean image, but honestly, who is Tiger Woods? I know there are a lot of celebrities we can say that about, but some of them allow their personalities to come through. For example, I may never know Allen Iverson on a personal level, but he was always an individual on the basketball court. Sure, he does not project the All-American image like Tiger, but he is still the embodiment of the American dream. From his braids to his crossover to his reckless abandonment on the hardwood, Iverson lives by his own standards and refuses to allow anyone to define him. He is one of the most popular NBA players of all time and influenced many others. Through the good and the bad, Iverson is someone fans could wrap their arms around. He had no problem flying off the handle at times (exhibit A). Tiger seemed controlled and cold. He was in firm control of his public persona. Tiger was a company man, first and foremost.

This is why people were so fascinated by Tiger's infidelity. He was the golden boy; he was the one who could never make a mistake. Many felt that with the image he projected there was no way he could get caught with his pants down, but it happened and now he is apologizing. Even this took three months to do. Tiger still showed that he had issues with control by only inviting associates and friends to his press conference. Some people may say that they only care about when Tiger is coming back to golf, but this is not an issue he can play himself out of.

So, the million dollar question is: Donte', what are you trying to say? Well Tiger, if you are reading this (you better be because I have been officially hired as your image counsultant), this is not the end: this is your rebirth. Your father helped break the color barrier in the Big Eight conference for baseball. A couple of years ago you had a chance to take a stand and talk about the seriousness of lynching when a certain golf announcer put her foot in her mouth. I know you do not like being called African American, but come on. It is part of your ethnicity. Any person with African descent knows what lynching means, yet instead you brushed off a perfect opportunity to show another side to yourself. Now you do not have a choice: whenever you come back from your self-imposed exile, something has to change. I am not saying you have to go to the same lengths that Jim Brown and Muhummad Ali did, but there has to be substance beyond the brand that is Tiger Woods. This Tiger must be more personable, more lovable, more loose and less robotic. You have more money than God so that should not be a problem. It is true that the evil a man does lives after him while the good is interned into their bones. The greatest gift anyone can give is himself. After we are dead and gone, we want people to remember us for more than our accomplishments; there needs to be something more, something tangible that people will feel. Tiger Woods should want to be remembered as a great human being, not just a great golfer. If Tiger remembers this, then he will truly be wealthy, not just rich.

Best Week Ever: NBA vs. Drew Brees

Sorry about last week folks, I had some technical difficulties (by "technical difficulties," I mean that my ghostwriter dropped the ball, and I was forced to fire her), but no worries, I am back and better than ever. In my continuing quest to stay hip and fresh, I will take a page out of VH1's playbook and decide who had the best week ever: the NBA or Drew Brees.

On Sunday the NBA hosted its 59th All-Star Game at Jerry's World (or, if you prefer, Cowboy Stadium) in Arlington, TX. The game was extremely competitive, with the East pulling out a 141-139 victory over the West. While in past years the game took a backseat to the festivities that take place during the weekend, the game was...how can I put this...actually good! There was not a lot of the sloppy play that has plagued this game in the past, and there were many highlights. The NBA gets extra points for actually showing women during their halftime show. Shakira straddled a cage..um, I mean performed first. The NBA is truly the place where "amazing happens" because they allowed Shakira to perform, and if a walrobe malfunction were to occur, it would be during a Shakira performance (what is the over/under on that?). Shakira performing would have been enough, but then the NBA pulled out their trump card: Alicia Keys. Her beauty and elegance is only matched by her musical talent. Oh, and Usher performed, too. A great game, good performances and no shootouts...all in all, a pretty good weekend for the NBA, but they will be deducted points because of a surprisingly uneventful All Star Saturday night that saw Nate Robinson(aka Gary Coleman-lite) win his third Slam-Dunk contest.

So that means that the winner of (granted during the introductions). This Is True's first (and last) best week ever competition is (drum roll....envelope....can't open it....what!...it's in braille?...I need a blind person....okay, got a blind person...okay, the winner please) Drew Brees! Did anyone really think that the Superbowl was the end of the football season? Well, the season is just heating up. Drew Brees has been everywhere, no seriously. He was on Ellen, Oprah (sorry, this was the best clip I could get. Oprah refused to meet with my people), Letterman and of course that horrible Disney commercial (which is a time honored tradition for every Superbowl MVP...well, except this guy). Next Drew Brees will be given the Noble Peace Prize, but there will be no uproar unlike the time this guy won it. Then Brees will be knighted, christened as a saint and get his own book in the Bible. Yup, that is one hell of a week. So Drew Brees, if you are reading (I could always use your support), you are truly Dontelicious!

Untitled (Because I Could Not Think of Anything Better)

I was going to call this post "When the Ain'ts Come Marching In," but because it was not original, clever, or funny--and it would showcase my Atlanta Falcons bias--I decided to leave this post untitled (though technically it is a title). Any who, how about that game? I guess that is why they call it the Superbowl. Actually, there was nothing really super about it. The commercials were about as entertaining as an episode of According to Jim, and the game itself was not like last year's slugfest. At the end of the day the audience had two choices: either the sports broadcasters would dump Brett Farve and slurp Peyton Manning more (and better) than any quarterback ever before or we would hear about how the Saints victory made the blind see, pigs fly and Lindsay Lohan relevant again (the first two happened but there has been no sign of the corpse formerly known as Lindsay Lohan). While what the Saints have done is amazing, I will leave it at that. Lord knows that for the next week we will bombarded by images of Drew Brees and his son, Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian (I would not object to seeing Kim however) and countless unfunny Mardi Gras jokes.

I reluctantly "cheered" for the Saints on Sunday. To tell the truth, I was pretty indifferent. I was hoping that the commercials would at least be entertaining, but they were a bigger buzz kill than Buzz Killington (and highly disturbing). Then at halftime we were subjected to the NFL's continued crusade to ban boobs from football by having The Who perform. Their performance must have been a tribute to their longevity. If that performance lasted for more than four hours I would have called a doctor. For what was supposed to be the premier sports event of the year, it was sorely lacking. I wanted more: where was the spectacle, the magic, the streaking?! For something that was supposed to be the Superbowl, it was anything but super. While episode number 343 of the Simpsons taught us that choreographing the Superbowl halftime show is not easy, it should at least be entertaining. Even if it were a spectacular failure, it still be worth seeing. That is why I can respect a man like GOB Bluth. Sure he is a butthole, nobody respects him, and his family does not like him (wait, what was my point?...oh yeah), but at least when he fails at his magic tricks, he does it with flair.

So, Roger Goodell (NFL commissioner), if you are reading (and I know you are), remember: people watch the NFL because big muscular men in tights and shoulderpads fly into each other at high speeds. There is a reason why many NFL players have to be taken care of for the rest of their lives after they retire: their bodies are a down payment for the glory they hope to own. With that said, football can still be entertaining! Let Chad Ochentacinco have James Cameron choreograph (choreograph is the word of the day!) his next touchdown celebration (in 3-D!), let boobies back into the halftime show. Heck, allow Adam "Pacman" Jones to make it rain before the start of every fourth quarter. Put the "Super" back in the Superbowl! Look at New Orleans: their team has just won the Superbowl and Mardi Gras is coming up. By the time February ends there will not be a New Orleans (Katrina has got nothing on that, wait...too soon?). Do you think that a little thing called destruction will stand in their way? They will build the city back up and continue to party! The No Fun League can learn from New Orleans' determination to get wasted by any means necessary!

The Washington Bullet

As predicted last week, an athlete did make a complete ass out of himself. As the title indicates, I will comment on the Gilbert Arenas situation but not in the normal tone that I have established in my first three posts because this case is no laughing matter. At the end of December, Gilbert Arenas admitted that he stored guns from his house in his locker room at the Verizon Center in Washington, D.C. A strange situation only got stranger when it was revealed that Arenas and teammate Javaris Crittenton had a Mexican standoff (in layman's terms, they pulled guns out on each other) over a gambling debt (because nothing says pay up like a loaded gun).

Now apparently Gilbert did not believe David Stern (NBA commissioner) heard what happened. To make sure that he did, during pregame introductions in the next game Arenas took his fingers, pointed them like guns and "shot" his teammates. As anyone could imagine, David Stern was pissed. He immediately suspended Arenas indefinitely after the incident, and on January 27th Stern suspended Arenas and Crittenton for the rest of the season.

It is no secret that David Stern is very image conscious of his league (which is a deeper and highly convoluted issue in itself). After the brawl for all in Detroit, Stern instituted a league-wide dress code that ruffled more than a few feathers. While I did disagree with it at the time, I realized that most jobs have a dress code and the NBA is a place of employment. David Stern for all intents and purposes is the boss, and with millions of dollars on the line, who would mind dressing up in a suit instead of a throwback jersey (Those are so 5 years ago)? While the image of two young black millionaires with guns drawn at each other screams image nightmare, I will say that it was Arenas' arrogance that offended Stern more than anything else. That defiant (or stupid) gesture with his teammates may have cost Arenas the last four years on his five-year, 111 million dollar contract (who knew that finger pointing could be so expensive).

Gilbert Arenas is one of the most explosive scorers in the NBA, with a career points per game average of 22.7. At 6'3", he is big for a point guard. He has almost unlimited range on his jumpshot and great strength and speed to get to the basket at will. Arenas' appeal, however, is his unorthodox behavior. When he was a free agent in the summer of 2003, in order to choose between re-signing with the Golden State Warriors or signing with the Clippers or the Wizards (his eventual destination) he...wait for it... flipped a coin! His free-spirit and talent made him a fan favorite, but this same devil-may-care attitude is what got him suspended.

It was great that Arenas left his decision to sign with the Wizards up to "fate," but he probably should have done his research. If he had, then it would have become apparent to him that a) Washington, D.C. has some of the most strict gun policies in America, and b) WASHINGTON, D.C. HAS SOME OF THE MOST STRICT GUN POLICIES IN AMERICA! (just thought that point needed to be repeated.) In the late 80s/early 90s, Washington, D.C. was considered the murder capital of America. The Wizards late owner Abe Pollin became so conscious of this that he changed the name of the team from the Washington Bullets to the Wizards. It is a known fact that lots of athletes own guns but to actually bring guns to the workplace? (I drive a bus, and Lord knows what would happen if I brought a gun to work and somebody found it). Gun owners (especially athletes, who have a tendency to move a lot) have to take these things into consideration because if they do not then they could end up like this guy. I could spend days analyzing the gun culture in the African American community (which is at the heart of this very issue), but the point is that Arenas has to know that you cannot put out a fire with gasoline. He only made this situation worse, and he is lucky that a suspension for the rest of the season is all he got from the NBA. I am glad David Stern suspended Arenas. What he did was incredibly stupid. Charles Barkley was wrong: NBA players are role models. It is ideal for children to look up to teachers, police officers and firefighters, but it is not realistic. We live in a materialistic culture, and the fact of the matter is that the people with the most money and exposure are the role models. So Gilbert, if you are reading (I could always use your support), you can turn this around by being a role model because you have been through so much already. With your life experiences, you can be the inspiration that a young man needs. If there is a child who is homeless, who is not getting playing time on their team or being called a zero, would it not be nice for that child to say, "If Gilbert overcame this, so can I." We all make stupid mistakes, but they are our mistakes. We have the ability to turn lapses in judgment into moments of self reflection and understanding.

How I Learned to Stop Hating and Feel Indifferent Towards Brett Farve

That is a long title but it is true. Like any addict there comes a point where one must admit their addiction, acknowledge it's existence then ignore it and go back to doing it until you get caught in the car with a hooker. Then it is only a matter of time before Jesus, Allah or the God of your choice is found. Well, that is my random rant of the day! Any who, it is very easy to hate on Brett Farve. The amount of sportscasters who have man crushes on Brett Farve is about the equivalent of baby mama's Lil Wayne has (he is at four baby mama's and counting. We all laughed when he said that he wanted to screw every girl in the world but little did we know he was very serious.) In many people eyes Brett Farve can do no wrong. He can throw interceptions that end his teams season and still get away unscathed. He could get on the stage of Saturday Night Live and rip up a picture of the pope and many people would say, "That is Farve being Farve, look at the technique he used to rip up that picture". Because of this and his back and forth about retiring, Brett Farve was my go to guy to hate on in sports (it use to be this guy but the poor kid has been through alot).

It became so easy to hate on Brett Farve that I ignorned the fact that he is one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time. This season he threw 33 touchdowns and only 7 interceptions. While he holds the record for most interceptions thrown in NFL history, he also has records for most touchdown passes, consecutive starts, passing yards and butt slaps (can NFL players file sexual harassment charges against teammates or can Brett Farve get away with that too?) He also won a Superbowl with a guy who could pass as a walrus ( if you think not look at the before and after. Along with this guy and this guy the walrus look is definitely in this season). The point is that Brett Farve has done alot. He is a great quarterback and he had the best comeback this side of Mickey Rourke (Old guys seem to be another must have item this year). Nobody has made this much fuss over a forty year old man since they found out this guy was a virgin.

After realizing that Brett Farve has given hope to broken down, over the hill athletes everywhere (and seeing how one day I will be one of these broken down, over the hill athletes) I have come to begrudgingly like Brett Farve and admire what he has done. Whether he decides to retire, then unretire, then retire again but not before he unretires from his official retirement Brett Farve should earn our respect if for no other reason that if we (the fans) choose not to acknowledge him we will look like a fool with our pants on the ground. So, Brett, if your are reading this (I could always use your support) you have become my favorite gunslinger because unlike John Wayne, you actually like black people.

(Next time on This is True, an athlete will make a complete ass out of themself and Donte's ghostwriter will consult them on their image makeover.)

Pete Carroll vs. the NFL II

Wow, I almost died trying to write this post but I did not, hooray me! I was thinking about addressing all the college coaches getting fired for hitting their players but I was afraid Mark Mangino would make me crawl over a hot football field on my knees( he has a HUGE temper, he cannot even enjoy his son's high football game). Because I value my life I will instead talk about Pete Carroll's decision to leave greatness at USC for mediocrity in the NFL.

When I first heard about Pete Carroll going to the Seattle Seahawks, two things came to mind. 1) Why go to Seattle? (This team has had bad luck with injuries, I really believe that Jim Mora spit on a Bible and God is having his revenge). 2) Why leave USC? I do not understand why a guy who has won two national championships, resurrected a prominent program and has Snoop Dogg's cell phone number would want to leave. He has his pick of what players he wants on his team. If I was a player I would not mind seriously injuring (but not killing!) another player just to be the fifty third man on the roster. I would do things that I will regret later in life to be on his team. I mean nasty, naughty, deranged things(not the run-in-the-mill I was so drunk things, things I cannot take back). Pete was good to his players; do you need a house? Pete Carroll got you (exhibit A). Who does not want to play for a coach like that?

Pete Carroll decides to leave sunny California for rainy Seattle? There is a reason why grunge rock is slit my wrist depressing. Starbucks coffee originated out of this area because people had to have a reason to leave their homes. Add these factors on to the aforementioned blasphemy and the fact that he went 33-31 as a head coach in the NFL and it has become clear that Pete Carroll loves misery. That is the only explanation!

To try and get into Pete Carroll's frame of mind I turned to a show that we could all take life lessons from, the Simpsons! In episode number 294 (yes, I did come up with that off the top of my head, there was a lot of math involved.) Lisa gets promoted to the third grade. Lisa is scary smart and was the boss of her second grade class. When she got promoted, however, she struggled mightly. Needless to say she decided to be the "big fish in a little pond" at the end of the episode or in other words she decided to go back to the second grade. So why have I just questioned Pete Carroll's manhood and compare him to Lisa Simpson? Other than the fact that they are both yellow, they both excelled at a certain level. Now he is leaving a level that he is a proven success at for a place that he has proven he cannot win at. He is like the David Caruso of coaches (we love him on CSI: Miami and NYPD Blues but nobody wants to see Kiss of Death or Jade, if I lost you then my point is proven).

In conclusion, Pete Carroll is insane. Einstein's definition of insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result. Pete Carroll went from coaching grown men to spoiled brats and now it is back to grown men. It is very rare that someone gets better at something by going down in difficulty. Carroll is no better at coaching NFL players than GOB Bluth is at doing magic tricks. Pete Carroll is leaving USC and he is getting replaced by a man more hated than Ben Affleck (He Who Must Not Be Named). Pete, if you are reading this (which I hope, I could always use your support) remember that the sequel is never better than the original and in your case if the original was craptastic, the sequel could only be the equivalent of Batman and Robin with the rubber nipples.

Introduction

Hey everybody! My name is Donte' Slocum. I had an epiphany the other day; I do not have a blog! In the world that we live in today everybody has to make their opinion known (or at least believe that everybody should know what they think on a day to day basis). Well, I am almost not that conceited, but feel like I am missing out on this blogging thing so I have decided to give it a try. Before I get into what my blog will be about, I guess this is the part where I talk about myself. I am 21 years old and I attend the University of Georgia. I am from Atlanta, GA. My mom and dad are still married and I am the oldest of three children. I have two younger sisters. Well, glad I got that short intro out of the way. I will make frequent mention about my school, family and other personal quirks (there are a lot of them) when it seems relevant to the subject at hand.

Now, to answer the burning question that the two or three people who are reading want to know; what will Donte' blog about? Well, here are some clues: If you have not noticed already, I am a guy and what is something that most can do all day and not get tried of? It begins with an S. It is something stimulating, it can get exhausting but at the end there is a great payoff if it is done correctly. Yes, that is it....sports! Now before assumptions can be made about how I am a typical man, it took awhile before I started watching sports regularly. I have always played sports but it was not until I was 14 that I started to watch, care and pay attention to sports. My guy gene has taken awhile to emerge (and in many ways I am still waiting) but now my television stays on ESPN. I will watch other shows such as Burn Notice or House but sports is something that interest me. I cannot really get into reality television (except for Making the Band, I use to watch it when the Da Band walked to get Diddy cheesecake), the news is as fun to watching as Mark Wahlberg acting in The Happening (his...breathy...voice...was...annoying) and lets face it: video games are not what they use to be (when society has to turn to a videogame console to get back in shape, we have failed as a society). Sports is the one thing that can bring this world together (ex: Olympics) if only for only a short amount of time. Sports can also cause a grown man to cry multiple times a year, just ask the poor fans of the Los Angeles Clippers or a fan of any team in Cleveland.

Well, it feels good to blog! I should do this more often and I will! These are the basic rules of thumb or, for the religious people in the audience, my Ten Commandments. Because I do not want God to get mad at me I will not use thous or thys and for the adultors I will not say anything about coveting your neighbors wife (cause we have all been there).


My Ten Commandments:
1. I will update this blog every week (or die trying!).
2. I will make reference to Arrested Development whenever possible (best...show...ever).
3. I will try to be rational whenever I talk about the Falcons (huge Falcon fan).
4. I will tell my readers about movies they should see (my passion for sports is only exceeded by my love for movies).
5. I will not make fun of Tiger Woods (the kid has been through a lot).
6. I will not be the angry black guy (this is very important, I want more readers).
7. I will try to bring a unique point of view to the table (or as original as my ghostwriter can make it).
8. I will continue to this blog after it goes out of style (which may happen in the next three minutes).
9. I will make my mother proud (and she is very hard to please, she is expecting half of my salary one day and I AM NOT KIDDING).
10. Finally, I hope that if I can bring a little food for thought to any of my readers I have done my job.

Well, those are my ten commandments and I will live by them. While since I do not have a clever catchphrase yet I will just say have a good week and I will post something next week or die trying!