Crispy bacon. The NBA playoffs. The morning after you’ve slept with someone you’ve been attracted to for a long time. YouTube strippers. New Klosterman books. Achieving perfect beard symmetry.
Listed above are the only things on Earth that give me more pleasure than making true predictions and saying “I told you so,” so imagine my elation when Kyrie Irving — a person I touted last summer as the most complete high school point guard I’ve ever seen — ended up being the number 1 overall pick in the NBA draft.
But, although I’m still very confident that Irving will end up being a standout player once this G0d-awful lockout ends, I have to say that I’m disappointed in the fact that he’s making headlines this summer for all the wrong reasons.
From “Kyrie Irving has already gotten himself in a weird Twitter beef” (via Ball Don’t Lie)
Duke product Kyrie Irving, the first overall selection of the Cleveland Cavaliers in last month’s NBA draft, has filed a harassment claim and hopes to acquire a restraining order against a woman whom he allegedly met on Twitter. Also, knock us over with a feather if this doesn’t happen 25 more times in the 12 months with several other players.
Now, Irving did nothing illegal, and after reading about some of the particulars of this situation, the restraining order is definitely the right move. But, my disappointment lies in the fact that Irving somehow managed to even associate with a chick who is so conspicuously batshit that even Casey Anthony would say “That bitch is f*cking crazy!” (Too soon?)
It’s especially perplexing when you consider Irving’s atypical (well, atypical for a professional athlete) background. He grew up with a loving and supportive father (former professional basketball player Drederick Irving), had an upper-middle class upbringing, was strong enough academically to get accepted to Duke, and, from all accounts, is mature beyond his years. Basically, he’s the type of guy who should definitely know better than to have any type of interaction with a broad from the Bronx who calls herself “Miss Hawaii.”
But, although Irving’s misstep was disappointing, I can’t really say that it was all that surprising. I’ve been 19 before, and, well, lets just say that a line-up of the women I slept with or would have slept with at that age could easily pass for the dancers in the Walmart rap video.
Plus, professional athletes (and by “professional athletes” I mean “black NBA and NFL players who didn’t stay in college for four years“) are at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to being able to identify and even meet quality women.
Think about it: If an athlete leaves school his freshman or sophomore year to enter the draft (or doesn’t go to school at all), most of the women he’s going to encounter as a young adult will be groupies. He’s not going to have the same opportunities to meet decent women with actual lives and aspirations of their own because they’re just not going to travel in the same circles.
Obviously, there are exceptions to this rule, but the majority of the men in that life don’t know anything other than the Evelyn Lozadas of the world. Because of this, a guy like me actually has more access to quality women — and “quality” in this case refers to women who are attractive and actually have goals past poking tiny holes in condoms — and more opportunity to actually get to know these women than most black professional athletes ever will.
Still, while the troubles a Kyrie Irving or a Roy Williams might have with women are easy to understand, how do you explain the fact that “guys like me” — regular joe schmoes with degrees and dads and sh*t — still make some of the same mistakes?
I mean, shouldn’t we know better? Shouldn’t we have been taught how to discern between “mate potential” and “may potentially cut holes in each of your shoes because you were 15 seconds to late to pick her up from work” sometime between sophomore year and last summer? Shouldn’t we have learned that the ability to bootyclap is an asset, not a requirement, and definitely not something you want to show off to your boss at your company’s annual volleyball game? Shouldn’t we know that the only woman whose big butt and smile merits automatic trust is Annie the Chicken Queen?
I can’t even excuse myself from this, as I’ve done things as a fully grown adult that would even make my 8 year old niece say “Uncle Champ, that was some dumb ass sh*t. Even I knew she was nuts, and I still suck my thumb and think Freddy Kruger really exists!!!”
We can’t use “well, she looked good” as a valid reason because while good-looking women are more likely to be nuts (It’s scientifically proven and sh*t), most of us can just as easily find an attractive woman who actually isn’t two sandwiches short of a picnic. Plus, well, some of these crazies we end up sleeping with and/or seriously dating aint exactly going to be Jet Beauty of The Week any time soon either. Shit, I see women working at the seafood section at Costco who look better than Miss (Ha!) Hawaii.
Part of me wants to say that batshit comes in all forms, and some women hide it so well that it’s difficult to sort the crazy colored Skittles from the rest of the bag. But, although this is true — some women are truly on some Jason Bourne shit when trying to keep from being spotted on the batshit grid — it’s a cop out. We all know when we’re taking a chance on a potential eventual restraining order, but we ignore the red lights and keep driving right on through that intersection, hoping that a police camera or an oncoming Dodge Ram don’t catch us.
Hmmm. Kyrie has his built in excuses. What the hell are ours?