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.