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!