Ever Think Scoop Jackson Cried?
Scoop, the polar opposite of Daniel Pearl, wrote a column about Michael Jordan on November 6 for ESPN’S Page 2.
Well, you could call it a column, or you could call it what it really is: fellatio
I didn’t think it was possible, but Scoop actually deep throated with words.
Ever think that someone would tell you to “wait” before you walked onto the United Center floor? With the arena dark, except for the lights coming from the Jumbotron, which surprisingly has your name on it? Ever think you’d hear the same synthesized music that MJ heard before almost every home game he played in — the drums beneath that sound, the Ray Clay voice — but your name would be called out instead of his?
“Aaaand nowwww, from ESPN.com …”
Ever think that you’d be standing on the United Center floor, bouncing up and down, waiting for your “teammates” to be called out to join you? “From Slam magazine …” “From Hoops …” “From Dime …” “From Men’s Fitness …” Ever think that when they introduced the coaches, the gods of sneaker design — Tinker Hatfield and Mark Smith — would run out of the tunnel? Ever think, after they’d come out — high and low-fiving everyone — that the music would stop, then start again, then … “From North CAROLINA …”
Scoop’s vivid imagery and tone is reminiscent of Truman Capote.
He really captures the essence of what it means to be like Mike.
Unfortunately, the ESPN Page 2 readership didn’t want to participate in a gang bang.
Here are some the comments:
- Worst…Article…Ev er. That was so annoying to read. Hey Scoop, ever think that a former ESPN writer would soon be a Wal-Mart greeter? Me niether…but you may proove me wrong!
- One of the worst posts in the history of page 2…from halberstam, hst, wiley, and whitlock to this? fire this guy.
- Ever think you would waste 20 minutes of your hard earned life to figure out what the hell you just read? Me neither, but I just did. Scoop, are you with us? Did you really just write that? I really think he confused himself in this article, then got to the end and was like, “How in the hell do I end this massacre of thoughts and words?” So then he just put, “Neither did I.” This was painful.