Letters From My People

Dear Stacey,

I have my NFL fantasy draft this week. I play among a group of embittered neighbors, and we play for high stakes: each of us have put the titles of our homes into the mix as an ante. The losers will be homeless, while the winner will be a sort of real estate baron.

I personally plan to demolish the neighbor's houses if I win. I always wanted 100 acres to live on. If I lose, I will take my family to live on the Appalachian Trail- we'll be just like Grizzly Adams, but we'll rob an occasional 7-11. Either way, I get open space.

But I never think negative. That said, I was wondering if you had any opinions to offer me insofar as drafting strategy is concerned.

Thank you,

Phil A...Shiloh

   I'd do several things here, Phil. One thing does stand out from the pack, though:

   Get a junkie to run the ball for you.

   Let's face it, kids...the War On Drugs is a failure.

   We pump a ton of money into law enforcement- yet in many cities, it is easier to get heroin than it is to get a cop. We watch as people on drugs dominate the Olympics, smashing records that had stood for centuries. Selling drugs is a great way for a kid to learn about our economy- supply/demand, marketing, wholesale, credit and so forth.

   It doesn't matter. The War On Drugs is wrong, but it is still fact, and we only deal in fact here at High Above Courtside. But fact works both ways....

   The best runner in the NFL last year was arrested in a cocaine conspiracy. The second best one retired to smoke pot in Nepal. Other top backs have had drug problems, too. Better living through chemistry, as we say here. 

   Of course, Ricky is gone and Jamal will have to keep his nose clean (giggle), which should translate to a Marion Jones-like drop in productivity. Therefore, the thing to do is to try to find the best running back who hasn't been caught getting high yet.

   I work with a lot of kids who have dabbled in Alternative Consciousness. There are signs that would allow even an amateur to spot the most clever hophead- without personal interaction. I'd try to find a HB who has several of the traits I'm about to list, and ride him to Home Ownership.

   A) Physical appearance rarely lies. Red, droopy eyes, small burns in their clothing, marijuana leaf necklaces, powdered nostrils, needle marks, and hand-rolled cigarettes dangling from his lip may seem like Warning Signs to the arriviste, but they mean 1600 yards to me.

   B) The NFL, to my knowledge, allows no High School kids in. They also get few Europeans- I can only think of that Olshansky(?) kid from the Ukraine, and a few kickers. All but the true elite do 4 years of college.

   Even a Big High School like Miami (2 Miami first rounders- Sean Taylor and Vin Wilfork- scored a pasta-esque 10 on the Wonderlic intelligence test given at the NFL combines) must try to teach the Big Dummies something, for God's sake.

   Even a Cafeteria major would have to crack a book now and then...and would still pick up some Book Learning by Osmosis just by being in the classroom, even if his books were padlocked.

    That said, I'd try to keep a healthy eye on the Wonderlic scores that the NFL releases every year. While stupidity isn't directly related to drug use- Freud, Coleridge, Kennedy, Poe and many more people of science and letters liked to get Blessed- a kid who manages to be really stupid after 4 years of college should be raising flags like a Harbormaster.

   Any Wonderlic score below a 12 can be viewed as Heroic Stupidity, and would probably have required chemical assistance.

  

 C) Many NFL players supplement their income by doing autograph sessions/beauty contests/mall openings and the like. Others will turn out for charity events and golf tournaments.

   These people aren't Presidents, and have little physical need for bodyguards. It isn't that hard to get right next to Corey Dillon, LaDamiaDamialian Tomlinson, Fred Taylor, or whoever is on your List. Pay some money to a good cause, go to a $100 a plate dinner, and see if the air has a pungent stench around Mike Alstott, or see if glazed eyes and manic speech accompany a chance meeting with Marshall Faulk....and no, it doesn't count if You're the lit-up one. 

   D)  Call the GNC in every NFL city, alter your voice to a Southern Baritone, and ask if your P-B-OK urine test masking agent has come in yet. When they ask your name, reply "Clinton Portis," "Eddie George," "Shaun Alexander," or whatever HB you're considering drafting.

   I hope I have helped you. You gamble for High Stakes. While we at High Above Courtside do not condone gambling, we admire the spirit of the Gambler.

 

   Dear Smurf,

   I work at a hotel in my hometown. A few months ago, a professional basketball player was in town for knee surgery, and he stayed at our hotel. We were talking as he checked in, and he was really nice. He toldme I had "grandi seni," which I'm sure means something really nice in Italian.

   He called down to the desk later and asked for some "fresh." I went up to his room to see what he meant. We had a Sprite ©, and then he said he wanted to show me some Synchronized Swimming moves he was working on.

   One thing led to another, and...well, he served me like a butler. While I never said "no," I did use a sentence with "know" in it at one point.

   Does he owe me money?

   Thank, Smurfy!

   Katelyn....Colorado

  

   You've already said too much, Kate. Try to look traumatized, and hope for a dumb jury.

 

   Dear Thumper,

   If you had a few billion dollars, and could support a team in any market.....where would you choose to have a team....what sport would it be...and what would the uniform look like?

   Suckers gots to know!

   Amanda....Illinois

   NFL....Montana Sasquatches....Fur Uniforms