I’m a Basketball Wife

So…this whole Derrick Rose  thing has me all out of whack…
The boy (and I’m saying “boy” because he’s younger than me) looks weak…he always has this sad-ass look on his face like his world is completely falling apart (which it very well may be) and then he’s got this “Jay Cutler Attitude” to boot right along with it.

“What? I only scored 8 points?….Dah Well…”

“What? I’m having more and more freak accidents hand over fist with no explanation…Meh…”
There have been some rumors circulating that this may be Derrick’s last year as a Chicago Bull, since the organization may release him from his contract…if it were me…I say “Great Idea!”.  Not only has the boy sucked up good salary dollars while sitting on the sidelines injured, and while I know people can’t help their injuries, it just looks bad in the accounting ledger that they are paying someone to sit on their a$$ and produce so many not so great performances.  If I’m the organization…and I’ve been staying more faithful to him than any relationships on Love & Hip Hop and still have not seen the results that we were so close to touching just 4 years ago,…not only am I getting tired, but now I’m getting frustrated and I’m broke in the process!
I mean his nonchalant mellow-smooth was cool in the beginning when he was “short haircut full steam ahead” Derrick…but now that he’s “I need to get all that money out there next year as a free agent, 4 time injured, 1 time MVP, while my comb seems to have made a permanent home in my drawer and obviously NOT in my head” Derrick…I’ve just lost all sympathy for the boy.
Don’t get me wrong…I’m all for the “hometown hero”…surviving the mean streets of Chicago and the even meaner halls of Simeon, rags to rich and even more riches story, but in the here and now, the boy is F**CKIN’ UP out there…on the court and in these streets.  It looks like he’s scared to breathe for fear that his opposing ACL will tear…and then the orbital eye injury…I don’t know whether to cry for the boy or yell at him…and now with the mask!  This damn bootleg Richard Hamilton windshield wiper looking ass face protective gear he is wearing actually makes his hair look better.  This thing looks like its suffocating the life out of his face…I just can’t.
The boy is gathering false allegations from random thots, speaking too much of his mind to the media while they take rigorous notes so they can reduplicate, in print, his fluent Ebonics…and he can’t give us but 10 words in an interview… and 5 of them are “um”…..HELLO! This is national television!!!  Let’s TRY to speak with some intelligence…or just pull a Marshawn Lynch, chuck the deuces up, and keep walking.  I just want this boy to get the phone number of a very reputable and successful publicist or public relations guru and have that person hold him hostage in NBA Saturday morning detention and educate him on all of the proper English and Grammar lessons he missed and help him retake some of the basic English tests I know he didn’t pass, because the smart kids were taking the tests for him, so he could get into college… a college where he only stayed for the bare minimum before being eligible for the NBA Draft…c’mon, I think its safe to say we knew the game plan from the start on this one: high school ball, college ball, pro ball, to put it simply.
But after saying all of this, all I have to do is see a picture of him and I instantaneously see a little brother that I want to pull for, that I want to win, that I know is so hurt/afraid/scared and trying-to-succeed on the inside for the sake of his career, legacy of his career, and his family…but though I want to still pull…I’m running out of rope…and I really don’t mean to rant, but yes…The Wife Rants.
-Sonnet#C
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