A very shot blog today. I read in the sports news some of the details of the Draymond Green altercation. That he got in a fight doesn't bother me. I'd be the worst hypocrite if I criticized him for that. However, Draymond, you got to get off of that "Do you know who I am" crap. You are smarter than that. You are no more or less important than the kindergarten teacher and the guy who works his butt of collecting your garbage. You need to get over yourself, and a be a Warrior.
This poem has a lot to do with honesty, telling it like it is and not condescending to stars just because they think they're big shots.
Why My Wife Could Never Coach in the NBA
For Melanie
She is far too honest. She will not abide laziness.
After a loss, the locker-room would not be pretty.
She would start with the Stars first, then work
her way around the room with her game face on,
in her teacher-voice telling each one of them
exactly what they did wrong. my wife is a stickler
for details. With her red pencil sharpened to a point,
she would dispense Failures. She's seen many Duke
games on TV coached by Krzyzewski, who looks
like he has sharp teeth. Like him, she'd get in their faces
and gnaw off their noses. She would yell, shitfuckpiss,
which she's often done embarrassingly in the past.
Outside the locker-room, the reporters listening
would write about her behavior that the commissioner
would not appreciate. There would be a blood-bath
of honesty. In the end, not enough players
would be left standing to suit up for the next game.
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