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I went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting the other day. And yes, I understand that is kind of an interesting way to start a column.
Basically, I have a friend who is getting her Master’s degree in Counseling, and she needed to observe a meeting for class, so I said I’d go with her… Continue reading
Once again, boxer Robert Guerrero has made me think about some things.
I’ll begin this column by saying this: I thought he was going to win last night. I thought he was going to be the first to beat Floyd Mayweather Jr. I thought he was going to make history… Continue reading
I know a basketball agent who went to the NBA All-Star game last year in Orlando. He was networking with some guys, hanging around after the game, and took a look around at his surroundings.
He noticed a number of women hanging around after the game—a lot of women—and not just any women, women who wanted something. High heels. Short skirts. Tight shirts. Makeup-coated faces, like apples dipped in caramel. Women waiting for the players to come out so they could get their shot, whether it was a one-night stand or a life as a basketball wife… Continue reading
I was trying to sing “Jesus the Nazarene” but instead stood amazed in the presence of my own stupidity.
We were at White’s Ferry Road Church of Christ in West Monroe, La., attending church with the Robertson family, the clan of redneck millionaires featured on the hit-program Duck Dynasty on A&E—and that’s when it hit me… Continue reading
Phil sits in Willie’s office at the Duck Commander warehouse. He’s telling a story, like Phil usually does.
Being with him in person is kind of surreal, like you’re having coffee with a cartoon. It looks like he came straight out of your television and sat in your living room—sunglasses resting on his head, camouflage bandana and pants, as if he’s been hunting all day, and a nest of a beard you could probably turn into a winter scarf… Continue reading
If you could have stood in the locker room before the fight, you would have thought an army was about to charge into battle. The energy gave you chills. The noise made your head throb.
As Robert Guerrero’s team, family and friends gathered around him, howling and chanting, Bob Santos stood quietly, questioning their naivety, nervously wondering if this would go down as the biggest mistake of Robert Guerrero’s career… Continue reading
Cigarette smoke sunk into my skin like cologne.
I was in a random man’s garage—I think his name was Bob—and I had just met him. Bob had wrinkles in his face like he had been tanning and smoking for decades and an unbuttoned shirt that revealed his skinny, almost sickly, chest and stature. I’ve never met a mass-murderer, but if I ever do, I imagine him looking like Bob… Continue reading
Joel Parker was on his way back from the slopes. He pounded another beer and chucked the bottle out the sunroof of his Subaru station wagon.
He pressed his foot on the accelerator, his friends laughing in the backseat, anxiously peering out the rear-window to see if the bottle struck a brand new car in the dealership parking lot… Continue reading
New Year’s resolutions fascinate me.
Not so much the resolutions themselves, but more so the means to their existence.
It hit me one January when I made the mistake of going to the gym. Because of all the fitness-related New Year’s resolutions, the gym was packed and many people didn’t have a clue what they were doing… Continue reading
Zach Johnson dropped the f-bomb on air the other day, and I liked what came from it.
Now, let me explain, before you act like I voted democrat or haven’t read “The Chronicles of Narnia” or didn’t like “Radical” by David Platt (which, I didn’t really, so, sorry, Christian culture).
On Nov. 29 at the World Challenge, unabashed Christian and PGA Tour player Zach Johnson, quite possibly the Tim Tebow of golf, cursed on air, then apologized later on Twitter. His slip-up showed his humanity, and his apology showed his aim. I liked it… Continue reading
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