If Kyrie Irving were an NBA
general manager instead of an NBA superstar, would he give himself a five-year,
$250 million deal like Brooklyn can offer? It’s not an easy question.
Maybe he’d be so deep and so introspective
as a GM, he’d determine that the supremely talented and tantalizing player couldn’t
be trusted with such a sizable commitment.
I suppose he’d sign himself in the
end, though, knowing he’d eventually act up and the team would suffer regret. The
GM might get fired, too, but the player gets paid either way.
The playoffs ended nearly two weeks ago and we’re still adjusting to the hardwood hiatus (shout-out to the WNBA for scratching the itch). With NBA action on pause, the offseason drama is here and a major twist is ahead. Irving’s impending decision will reverberate around the league and the locker room he shares – for now – with former MVP Kevin Durant.
Recently listened to a Tony Evans sermon
on detours, which are unexpected, frustrating and beyond our control.
Clearly, I’ve hit one on this
doctoral journey. I won’t get into the details, other than saying it has
required me to kind of restart.
Yes, I honestly thought I would be finished with this doctorate thing by now, but I’m on a detour and it’s not fun. As Dr. Evans said, they slow us down, change our path and – though aggravating – ultimately get us to the destination.
If you think about it, detours
help you learn new ways of getting where you want to be.
In this case, it has taught me
patience (again), resilience, humility, control, boldness, and confidence. Yes,
that’s a lot, but I’m a whole different person from the sister who started this
journey nearly five years ago.
I’m stronger and think I’m smarter. And more aware of self.
Aware that I can’t crawl back in
time and correct my missteps (or anyone else’s). Aware that I must take
ownership of my process. Aware that sometimes I act or don’t act out of fear.
Aware that it’s critical to focus until reaching my goal.
Detours are like that.
When you hit one, there’s no
choice but to perk up and pay more attention to where you’re going. You even
start to notice things, some that you didn’t notice before.
With each twist and turn, you
learn about your strengths, your motivations, your insecurities, and even your fears.
So yes, I’ve been on a long,
winding, grueling alternate route. But I feel myself slowly rounding the curve
as I learn and grow.
If you’re on a detour, just hold
on tight and stay focused. Take it all in.
They sold their soul for
quarterback Deshaun Watson and got more than bargained for. When he arrived in
March, Watson was facing 22 civil suits accusing him of sexual harassment and
assault during massage sessions.
That number has grown to two
dozen.
Two weeks ago, NFL commissioner Roger
Goodell told reporters “we’re nearing the end” of the league’s
investigation. But he might have to pump the brakes due to recent developments,
making the Browns twist even longer before learning Watson’s fate.
Good!
Cleveland wants to move on from
Watson’s signing, but can’t begin until the NFL makes a disciplinary decision. Meanwhile,
owners Jimmy and Dee Haslam fall asleep every evening (hopefully to
nightmares), wondering what revelations might await the next morning.
Can we take a moment to acknowledge the absurdity of LeBron James’ story?
Born to a 16-year-old mother who
raised him alone, he graced Sports Illustrated as a high school junior anointed
“The Chosen One.” Imagine being a teenager from the hood with your face on 3.2
million magazine covers. You might require custom-made hats for your
swelling dome.
James’ head didn’t get too big, but his
legend has grown exponentially. Then-Boston Celtics GM Danny Ainge said
17-year-old James would be the No. 1 draft pick if he was eligible. Waves of
reporters trekked to St. Vincent-St. Mary High School to chronicle the phenom’s
exploits. “All hell broke loose,” James said in his 2009 book, LeBron’s
Dream Team. “That cover pushed me onto the national stage, whether I was
ready for it or not.”
More than just prepared, he apparently
was built for it.
The hype was unprecedented, unfair,
and perhaps unrealistic. But 20 years later, James has exceeded all expectations
on the court and at the bank, becoming the first active NBA player to reach
billionaire status according
to Forbes. Michael Jordan was retired for over a decade before he hit that
level.
Screenwriters would find James’ life too boring and straightforward. They’d want creative license to add drama, starting with his selection by the Cleveland Cavaliers as the No. 1 draft pick. Placing a teenage player in his home market straight out high school – with an $18 million contract in his pocket – generally isn’t the wisest move. Investor Warren Buffet said he would’ve found trouble with that much success at such a young age, but James was “able to just be sensible and keep his head on straight. I admire him greatly.”
Some lines you never expect to
cross. Some scenarios are too unlikely to imagine.
Yet, here I am, pulling for the
Celtics.
Native New Yorkers with no ties to
New England don’t root for Boston. That’s worse than rooting for Philadelphia.
We don’t care nothing about those I-95 outposts, also-rans not nice enough to
be named twice or have two football and two baseball teams. However, it’d be way
easier to pull for Philly, like supporting your little play-cousin.
Boston? That’s like rooting for the
racist uncle who married into the family.
Hating on Beantown is a given for
most self-respecting Black folks. It’s the default setting for consciousness, unless
you were born in that region and can’t activate the manual override. The mistreatment
of Black athletes there is legendary, a
flea market of racism. Even those who play for the home team are excused
when they confuse Boston with Birmingham. Where else have we seen a flag used like
a spear?
But for the first time and probably the last time, I’m rooting for a Boston team.
Follow
