Monday, June 04, 2012

Sports Updates:

Los Angeles Kings up 2-0 in the Stanley Cup against the New Jersey Devils. It has to be tough for New Jersey to be losing to a city where the only ice is in its margaritas.

After round four of the French Open, there are no players left from the U.S. So American sports fans are looking forward to that match between what's-their-names from wherever-it-is.

Tiger Woods won the Memorial. Tiger is back to his old self. Afterwards he hit on, not two, but three Hooters waitresses.

After chopping off his hair a year ago, Justin Bieber has gone back to the flop mop. "Oh, that is so magnificent," said no straight male who likes sports. 

Since you asked: 
Speaking of sports, I've been reading about the troubles pro athletes have adjusting to life after their sport, especially the ones who cheated with steroids, and I remember my meeting in a bar with an ex-NBA player- whom I will not name - oh, who cares, it was Jerome Whitehead.

Now, I know a guy who was cut by the San Diego Clippers when they were a league joke and he has an ego the size of Montana, so I thought I was prepared when my friend told me he was going to introduce me to a big NBA star.

First of all, Whitehead was no NBA star. He was a very good college player at Marquette when they won the National Championship in 1977, but he was an 11-year journeyman who was traded and cut by five different teams and averaged a tad over six points a game.

The guy used to be a really good basketball player, but not exactly Hall of Fame numbers.

Although I shook his hand, Jerome was clearly not excited at meeting me.  Why would he be? 

There was an awkward silence and I should have gone with my instincts not to talk to the jerk, but I took a stab at a conversation and pointed out I saw him play for Waukegan against my high school, New Trier, in 1973. What I didn't say is my team beat his and went on to finish playing in the State championship game finally losing to a much taller team. 

Truth was the only reasons I remembered him was, a, was a good player from our area who went on to the NBA, the 41st chosen in his draft, and b, his last name was the word for a type of pimple.

When I told him I saw him play in high school, Jerome looked really  annoyed and snapped;

"Hey man, I was an NBA player, I ain't going to remember every damn high school game."

To my credit I did reply;

"Listen, I don't care either, I was just trying to make conversation."

Then I did the smart thing, because  he was 6.10, and walked away. What I wished I had said was;

"You know what you and I have in common? Neither one of us is playing in the NBA right now."