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Here is the article I wrote based on my Draft Lottery experience on Tuesday.

My latest article

I think yesterday will go down as one of the worst days I've ever had. I messed up at work two times, and then I had to justify/explain my error over and over again (or maybe it just seemed like that). I had to sit in a meeting with someone who thinks they are much smarter than they really are (or maybe its the way they chose to convey their intelligence that annoyed me), and because this person is above me on the work food chain, I couldn't say jack. Then I wrote a mean-spirited blog entry yesterday about someone I'm doing a favor for, and I ended up having to delete it, but now I wonder if this person read and took offense. And then finally, my son continues to do poorly in school, and I am mad as hell at him even though I know his mother is partly at fault as well. Now I will once again have to convince the Virginia courts to uproot my son from his mother, his brother, and his support system of almost 14 years, and allow him to live with me..a task I have failed at several times before.

And to top it off Starks got ejected...(I really hope this reference makes sense to somebody). The good news is I get to attend the NBA Draft Lottery tonight in New Jersey at 8pm. Maybe the Wizards will win and I'll get a kickass story...

This picture was taken in 1984, shortly after a performance by Wynton Marsalis in New York City. I was nine and my brother was six, and God bless my dad for doing whatever he had to do to get our family backstage. I played the trumpet, and Wynton was an up and coming star, so it seemed like a perfect match. At the time my family was living in Connecticut, but when we moved to the D.C. area a few years later, we went to see Wynton several times at Blues Alley, and we would always go upstairs, and talk to him after his performance. One time, at my father's request, I brought my trumpet mouthpiece to the show, and Wynton allowed me to play HIS horn, and I was on cloud nine. I was in high school at the time, and I thought I was headed to jazz stardom with Wynton's help.

Just two years later, after I made the basketball team, started writing for the school newspaper, and discovered the joys of girls, I abandoned the trumpet, and I was sure I disappointed my parents and Wynton. I went to see him at Blues Alley in 1992, and I explained to him that I had given up on the trumpet, and he wasn't even mad. He said whether I played or not, the important part was that I was a jazz fan for life, and that would never go away, and he was 100% with that point.

Sadly, Wynton is big time now, so when he comes to D.C., he usually performs at the Kennedy Center (I can't blame him there), but I still miss the intimate feel of his earlier shows. When he was here in 2009, I was scheduled to meet up with him backstage, but I couldn't go to the show, because my lady (now wife) was having surgery around that time, and that was much more important, but I need to attempt to meet up with him again (and tell him to stop talking bad about all rap music).

And that picture that I started this entry with? Wynton used to carry that around in his trumpet case for years, because my brother and I represented his first young fans. So if you ever meet him, you should ask him about that picture of Rashad and Jamal he used to carry around, and he'll tell you his version of the story I'm telling you now.

I have no words today. If you can just click on my "article" from yesterday's blog entry, I'd appreciate that. But today, I just want you to listen to last 18 seconds of the song I'm about to post today. Actually, listen to the entire song, but put headphones on, and focus on the last 18 seconds specifically. Listen to this man sing his heart out over a woman he doesn't want to leave him. Listen to the raw emotion and passion and tell me who the hell is singing like this today..there aren't many....

These are the Manhattans by the way..

I didn't write this article, but I contributed to it.

For the longest time when my immediate and extended family got together on a major holiday like Mother's Day and went out to eat, I really was not much of a factor when it came to have the who-is-going-to-pay-the-bill conversation. I mean sure I would contribute money for myself, my mother and maybe my brother, but I wasn't pulling out enough money to pay for the 6-10 people at the table. Usually my grandfather or one of my uncles would take care of that before I even sniffed the bill. I vowed to get in on that conversation one day, but as of late, I had not been in an extended family outing, so my shot at redemption had been delayed--until yesterday that is..

Yesterday there were seven of us out at breakfast after church, and as we ordered the food, the waitress asked if there would be one bill, and who she should give it to once it came. Immediately my uncle said, there would be one bill, and he would be the one to pay it. When he turned his head, I summoned the waitress and asked her to give ME the bill when it came, and to ignore my uncle. Sure enough when that bill came, the waitress coolly put it right in front of me, and I paid without anyone noticing what the smooth maneuver I had pulled off.

When it was clear that everyone was finished eating, both my uncle and my grandfather (who never really officially put his bid in beforehand) both prepared to take out their money, and I politely told them I had taken care of it. Then they insisted that they get in on the tip, and I again told them that their money was no good here. Then to deflect the possibility of an awkward moment, I told them that this type of initiative on my part would NEVER happen again..everyone laughed and we left. I must admit it made me feel like a grown man..

Of course my grandfather one-upped me right before I left to drive back to D.C. He pulled out a $20 bill, and told me to use it on gas. I tried to tell him he didn't need to give it to me, but he had already turned his attention back to the television, and the remote was firmly in his hand. I suppose there are some things you never grow out of, no matter how old or grown you think you are...

I'll be on blog hiatus until Monday, since I am driving to Cleveland, Ohio to see my mother, grandmother, etc. So I will leave this song as my ode to Mother's Day:

Chris Rock has a joke that basically says that when a man (although I'm sure its not sex specific) comes home from work, he needs about 10-15 minutes to get his head together, before he's ready to talk to his wife, his girlfriend, family, etc. This rule does not really apply to me because my walk back and forth to work is about 20 minutes, so by the time I get home, I've worked out any work-related angst that may have lingered beyond my 5:30 dismissal time. And even when I haven't, a stiff shot of Johnnie Walker Black is more than sufficient to knock out the rest. That's just how I rolls...

But when I get to work in the morning, the "Chris Rock rule" is definitely in effect. I need about 10 minutes before I can speak--unless their is an emergency project that needs tending to. I'll say good morning to everyone, and then I need to get to my desk, turn on my computer, look at my emails, put my lunch in the fridge, get my fruit out and sip my Venti Soy Green Tea Latte from Starbucks. After I do that, I'm ready to be friendly and as chatty as Ann Curry in the morning.

Unfortunately, I work with someone who does not respect these unofficial boundaries I've put out there. Less than two minutes after this person sees me walk by, they are at my desk and in my face talking about trivial sh*t (Bin Laden's capture, the government shutdown, a shooting at the National Zoo, etc). It is not as if I don't have an intelligent viewpoint or opinion about these issues, I just don't have them to offer at 8 in the f**king morning, when I'm just getting to work. At first I humored this person and talked a bit, but recently, I've just started executing the neglect method, and I just don't look up. This person still talks to me from time to time, but I don't return the favor, I just keep my head forward and focused on the computer screen. Then after I am sufficiently finished getting my head together, I go to the this person's desk and see if there's any residual conversation to be had, and usually there isn't. Crisis averted.

And yes I realize I'm using phrases like "this person" and "someone", but I have to protect myself here. I've made many enemies because people want to use google my name just to be generally nosy, and then they roll up on this here blog, and start judging me (justifably so I might add). For example, my neighbor STILL doesn't speak to me after she saw my blog (she magically appeared in my gchat list one day a group of my neighbors had a spirited email exchange about our landlord, and saw my blog attached to my name), and saw that I had falsely accused her of being a lesbian (I'm still not convinced I'm wrong, but I'll wave the white flag regardless). She speaks to my wife, but when she sees me, she looks at me like I stole her bike or something. I thought about apologizing, but then I realized that its my f**king blog and I can do what I want..I still may apologize one day though, because I'm trying to keep my enemies to a minimum. But I digress. Sorry for the babbling.

And now I will post a random song that came on my ipod that I absolutely LOVE. The song is called "What Can I Do?", the group is Pieces of a Dream, and both the video and the song have late 80s written all over it.

You know what love is? It's when your favorite aunt who lives in Cleveland, Ohio calls you on a random Sunday during the NBA playoffs. She's completely oblivious to the fact that the Heat/Celtics game is on tv, and you are knee deep in this contest, she just has some things she needs to discuss with you, so she calls. About five minutes into her conversation, she asks if you're still coming to visit her when you come in town on Friday, and you say absolutely I am. Then she asks--and this is the good part--what you want her to cook when you arrive. You hedge a little bit because you really haven't heard a family member (who isnt your wife) ask you to customize a dinner menu, but when you start hesitating too much, your aunt gets mad and tells you to be a man, step up to the plate, and tell her what the hell you want to eat...

So you tell her you want her famous potato salad, greens, chicken, biscuits, and then you stop there, and she says she will have all that and more, and the conversation ends. You forget to request some sort of pie or cake, but you're confident that she'll throw that in for good measure anyway. You really want to immediately go back to the Heat/Celtics game, but now you're flustered, and instead of thinking about LeBron, Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett, you start fantasizing about that meal on Friday, and just how primal you plan to be while you're eating it (pause). Your wife, who was allegedly knocked out on the couch, perks up when she hears you come back in the room, and asks if that was your aunt talking about food, and you confirm, and even she gets a little excited, before falling back asleep on the couch.

It is only Tuesday, and I'm still excited.

At one point while I was at the Penn Relays on Saturday, I looked to my left and saw my 13 year old son, and I looked on my right and saw my brother and my father. My brother and father were having a discussion about Usain Bolt (who was not in attendance) and my son had his binoculars up to his face looking at something (I am pretty sure he was looking at a girl's ass, but he denied it both times I asked him). No one saw me looking at them, and no one knew how proud I felt at that moment, but that was fine by me. Its important to have family traditions, and for me, its important that those traditions involve the men closest to me. Plus, I want my son to see me interacting with my father and brother..he needs to see us argue, laugh, discuss adult subjects and all that.

Anyway I know I'm rambling right about now, but Saturday's experience was great. And next year, which is an Olympic year for track, it should be even more fun, and maybe Usain Bolt will make an appearance...

Oh and please read my read my article

Every year before the NBA playoffs start, Los Angeles Lakers coach Phil Jackson picks a time--usually after his team loses--and takes a subtle swipe at the referees. He doesn't have a set script in terms of what he says, but it is always something to the effect of, "There are a lot of teams that get more calls than we do, and I hope when the playoffs start that evens out, because dammit we deserve it and I'm Phil F. Jackson."

Shortly after he gives that annual speech, the fireworks begin. The NBA league office usually fines Phil and the Lakers a substantial amount, other owners get flustered and start accusing Phil of manipulating the refeeres, opposing coaches get pissed and say Phil is the master of mind games, and even his own players get a little exasperated that Phil is up to his antics once again. But when the playoffs start, Phil and the Lakers get favorable calls, they win games and everything works out in his favor. At some point he probably steps back and tells his team, "See what I did there?"

The same applies to Mr. Donald Trump. Somewhere in that rich, attention-starved diabolical mind of his, he decided that he was going to be a pain the ass, en route to his attempt to possibly run for President. And since this pursuit of the Presidency would have be done from the Republican viewpoint, Trump had to customize his plan for that side of town. And if he could gather some Tea Party folks along the way, then that would be even better.

So he excavated the birther issue, he casually threw out the word "blacks", he questioned Obama's academic background, trashed Mitt Romney's method of getting rich, boasts that he's rich and smart, and if he had extra time to spare, he promoted his show, "The Apprentice". The media has reported every move and speech that he made, black people got upset and called Trump a racist and vowed to revoke their support (support of what? I'm still not sure), Obama called a press conference and reluctantly (but in a smug dismissive fashion) flashed his birth certificate like a gang sign, and Democrats and Republicans just wished this man would go away.

And at some point during Trump's day, probably when he's on the golf course with a cigar, a stiff drink and his pals, he winks at them and says, "See what I did there?"

My mother and Hill Harper a few weeks back..this has nothing do with anything, I just think its a swell picture..

I wonder if he's saying, "Love 40"...(an obscure Hav Plenty joke)

Marvin Gaye's, "I Want You" came on my ipod on my way home from the pool this morning, and I was reminded of the brilliance of this song. Then I remember what I wrote about this song on this here blog way back in May of 2007. I realize it is lazy and perhaps a bit pompous to be quoting my own blog, but this is what you come to expect from me isn't it?

Here's what I wrote:

You ever listen to your favorite song, and hear one part that you just cannot get out of your head. You keep rewinding and rewinding, and you wish someone was around, so that they could hear it too. THIS is the real reason why blogs were created, just so you could share these private, and previously elusive moments with friends and family. I'm sitting here at work, listen to a song, and I hear my favorite part for the 1000th time, and I say to myself, someone else needs to hear this. So now you will get the chance

Yes I have posted this song before..twice before in fact, but now you have something to listen for..starting at the 3:54 mark of I Want You by Marvin Gaye and ending at the 3:56 mark, you'll hear the following in the background: ooooooooWEEEEoooooo. Yes the rest of the song is great, but that part is beautiful to me. its haunting, its chilling, and other things that i don't possess the vocabulary to describe yet.

Oh and one more thing, my friend Nichole wrote a short story the other day, and you can check it out right here.

The New Lenny Kravitz comes out this summer Here's a preview:

So today's damn-I'm-getting-old(er) moment came right after I finished my morning swim. I didn't see the lifeguard when I initially got in the pool, but as I got out and dried off, I noticed he was walking around and cleaning up around the pool. I kind of glanced at his t-shirt, then I did a double-take and looked a bit closer, and noticed that his shirt said, "The Infamous Mobb Deep".

Now if I was a different kind of dude, I'd have been simply taken aback by the fact that this guy was white and a Mobb Deep fan, but I'm not that ignorant and that didn't throw me off at all. What DID throw me off however, was the fact that this lifeguard is 20 years old. That means Mobb Deep was in its heyday when he was between 5 and 9 years old--there's no way in the world he was listening to them then. In fact, I was 20 years old and in collee around then, and I was playing the sh*t out of Mobb Deep and loving it..they've fallen off a bit since then, but Prodigy just got out of jail, so I'm sure he'll be releasing something soon. And yes I actually just typed that sentence.

Anyway, before I walked by the lifeguard and headed to the showers, I stupidly asked him if he was a Mobb Deep fan, and he said he was. Then I asked him (the way older people so arrogantly do sometimes) what his favorite Mobb Deep song was and he said Quiet Storm with Lil Kim, and I agreed that was a good song, then he asked me mine and I said "Drink Away the Pain" or "Live N***a Rap" on Nas album (I said "N" word, not nigga). He didn't know either one of those songs (they came out in 1995 and 1996 respectively) and I instantly got a little annoyed that a Mobb Deep fan wouldn't know those songs, but at this point I realized I was coming off like a music snob, so I abruptly cut off the conversation. Plus I felt stupid for actually saying "N" word out loud..I never realized how ignorant the song title, "Live Nigga Rap" was before..again I digress

Before I left he asked me if I heard Prodigy's new song since coming out of jail, and I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He gave me the name of the song, told me some rapper named Currensy was rapping with him, and that I should check it out. And then magically my age advanced from 36 to 56..because I had no idea who Currensy (I now know that's how its spelled) was, and I had no clue anything new had been released. I just said I would look out for it, and got the hell out of there. So this morning I will play all the Mobb Deep cds released before 2000 to make myself feel better.

I have nothing of note to say today, so I will share a project that a friend of a friend has taken on called, "Letters From Dope People". The video I'm linking to below is the fifth installment in a series of interviews, and it features 9th Wonder and Phonte of the former group, "Little Brother". Even if you have no clue who they are (and chances are high that most of you do not), it is still entertaining to watch..at least I thought it was.

VIDEO PREMIERE // Bilal "Little One" from Centric TV on Vimeo.

Right before I walked into my building this morning, I noticed a woman wearing very short skirt. She was a plus-sized, Ashley-Stewart woman who looked to be about 5'6" or 5'7", and she wasn't overweight, she was just thick. But her skirt was yellow and short, and she was desperately clutching the sides of the skirt for dear life, and I couldn't figure out whether she was pulling it down, keeping it from flying up or both. What I DID notice is that she was completely uncomfortable with that skirt, and I started to feel badly for her, and then I thought again.

This is not the first time I've seen a woman wear clothing that looks hopelessly uncomfortable, and I do not get it. I had clothes that I don't like, are kind of snug, or just looked better in the store than they did on my person. I don't force the issue, wear them anyway, and then walk around looking like my diaper needs changing and I'm diaper-less. I either give the clothes away, or they simply don't get worn. But (some) women seem to force the issue and wear shoes, tops and bottoms that they really don't like just to prove a point to either themselves, other women or maybe the store they bought it from.

Perhaps this girl is trying to impress someone at her job by wearing a skirt that would certainly reveal all of goodies if she even bent halfway over. Maybe only walking with that short skirt is problematic, and its the sitting down in a swivel chair part of the day that she's really looking forward to...Or maybe the discomfort is worth it, because she thinks she looks that sexy..I don't know what the hell it is, and I know its technically none of my business, but when has that stopped me from noticing or bitching about something in the past?

The Roots are one of my favorite bands ever.
Rakim is my favorite rapper ever. He's also better than your favorite rapper ever will be.
They will be performing "Paid in Full"(and other things I'm sure) at the Blue Note in New York on June 22nd (yes that's a Wednesday and yes I'll be at the late show). There's no way I'm missing this show, because who knows when this particular combination will be together again..

The Roots featuring Rakim and John Legend - In the Ghetto

In two weeks, my father, my son, my brother and I will be attending the Penn Relays in Philly. We went last year and had a ball, and it was decided among all of us that it was something we should try to do annually. Last year I bought the tickets, and I didn't make my brother and my father pay me back, because I was just happy to kick this tradition off. I even paid for parking once we got up there. This year I bought the tickets once again, but I was hoping someone else would take the lead on paying for them. When that did not initially happen, I just went ahead and bought the tickets again, and then I sent both my brother and my father the receipt. They both said they'd pay me when they saw me.

So yesterday we were all sitting in my living room watching the fantastic NBA playoffs, when my father just hands me a check out of nowhere. It felt a little awkward taking money from my father, but I said thank you and put it aside. I tried to put the check close to my brother so he would pay me too, but he did not take the bait. 15 minutes later we said our goodbyes, and they both left my place.

20 minutes after I took a shower, and I thought about the situation a bit and I felt guilty for taking money from my father. I can't even begin to account the number of times he helped me out financially or otherwise when I was struggling. I haven't needed to ask him for money for years and that feels good, so the last thing I needed to be doing was collecting money from him (from my vantage point at least). Right after I got out of the shower, I told him that I could either shred the check or give it back to him when I saw him, but I damn sure wasn't cashing it. He tried to fight me for awhile and tell me to just keep it and buy something for my son, but I wasn't having it. He finally just told me to just give him the check the next time I saw him.

Then I called my brother and very begrudgingly told him he didn't have to pay me either. It sucks taking money from your dad, but it feels absolutely great to take insane amounts of money from your younger sibling. But I felt like this was the right thing to do, and I don't regret my decision this morning either.

The lesson here? Sometimes you just have to suck on it and like it..or if that's too sexually charged for you, sometimes you have to take one for the team. That's a lesson that Carmelo Anthony did NOT learn last night but that's a whole other story..

Prince

Springing forward and falling back

My cornrow-less son looking pitiful but like a lighter version of his father

I promise I won't keep mentioning my son and hair issues...

Yesterday morning around 6am or so, my son started to undo his braids because he felt like on that particular day he wanted the afro look. He was cutting it close because his bus arrived at 7am, and his mother warned him about how close he was cutting it but my son assured his mother that everything would be just fine. When he finally walked out of the door to catch the bus, he had unbraided all but two braids, but assured his mother everything would be fine (no way in hell would that have been acceptable under my administration).

My son walked out of house, waited for the bus, and tried to remove those last two braids, but they just would not budge. My son ran back home to ask his mother for help, and she gladly helped him out, but she said if he missed the bus there would be hell to pay. My son and his freshly removed two braids ran back outside and saw the bus passing him by like the Pharcyde, and he took that long walk of shame back in the house to give his mother the bad news.

His mother didn't get mad at all, she just calmly gave him a ride to school, and then told him that the hair was coming off that night because he basically had chosen his precious hair over the school bus. She said my son was emotionless. She called me after she dropped him off, and I'll admit I had mixed feelings. I was glad the hair was coming off, but I was upset that the agreement my son and I had signed off on was now void..kind of. I still expect the good grades, but now I have to come up with new incentives, which is kind of sad when you think about it..good grades should not have incentives tied to them..I digress.

I told my son's mother to have him call me before any hair was removed and he did. I basically told him that if he were in the right, I could have possibly saved him from his fate. But I told him what he did earlier that day was dead wrong, and now he would have to man up and take his punishment. Then I heard sniffles and whimpers, and I realized he was crying, which is absolutely the wrong thing to do with me over the phone. I ignored his crying, I finished my speech and I asked him why he was crying, and he said that he really wanted to keep his braids. I reminded him that a man who wants to keep his braids doesn't undo them an hour before school, and he agreed. I also told him that crying was fine, but learning his lesson and acting with some damn sense was more important. He finally stopped crying, I told him to call me later if he needed to, and we got off the phone.

20 minutes later his mother called me saying my son lost his temper, she had to (try to) spank him, and they were at some kind of standoff. She said it was time for him to come live with me (a statement she rescinded towards the end of the conversation, but she's absolutely right) and that I needed to talk to him. Because my talk would involved loud talking and choice words I said I'd call when I left work, but I wasn't able to reach my son (or his mother for that matter) yesterday evening. I'm hoping that means that a short-term resolution was reached. But I'm 100% sure that hair was cut off..his mother was pissed

But I'm betting good money that when my son starts high school in September, he'll be catching the bus from my house not his mother's...Thanks for humoring me on this.

My latest article on former Georgetown Hoya and current Boston Celtic, Jeff Green

So last Friday while my son was en route to Washington DC by train, he gave me a call. He wanted to let me know that his train was running late, and he would not be in until 10pm, instead of the scheduled 8:58 time (he actually ended up getting in around 11pm instead). I called his mother to let her know this, and during that conversation she all but foiled my plans to cut his hair.

She said that I better not cut his hair, because her and my son had agreed that he was old enough to determine his own hairstyle and I had no right to just come and do what I wanted just because I didn't like it. Mind you, I had not even mentioned that I was going to cut his hair yet, but she knows I think cornrows are the cousin of death, so I suppose she had to preemptively cut me off..no pun intended. I tried to explain my case, but then I just shut up. If my son lived with me full-time and then he went to stay with his mother for a weekend and she tried to switch something up, I would absolutely hit the roof. But I did tell his mother that if my son's grades did not improve, I would overrule her little bullshit agreement, and she agreed that was fair.

So the next morning after my son was rested from his long night of Amtrak travelling, we had a talk. First I got in his ass for not reading during his spring break the way I had asked him to. Actually I almost cut his hair off because of that alone, but I relaxed. Then I laid out an agreement by which he could keep his hair and he had to sign off on it. I told him that by the next time I see him (which will be April 29th) for the Penn Relays, he had to have all A's and B's except for Math, where I told him a high C would suffice for now. His teacher told me that even with a C, my son has the highest Math grade, and that the kids are struggling to lead Algebra (which is an indictment of the teacher if you ask me, but nobody did). My son actually did have a short-lived low B at one point, but he lost it quickly. I digress.

I told my son if he did not have the grades I wanted by April 29th, I'd cut his hair off, and he'd be going to the Penn Relays with a low cut. He agreed. I then told him that next test would be at the end of the school year, and if his grades weren't what I wanted, I'd cut his hair, and again he agreed. And finally I told him that regardless of what his grades were, by the time he starts big bad high school in August of this year, that hair is coming off, because it would be time to grow up and begin that official march to college.. Again he agreed, we shook on it, I wrote it up, and he will sign off on it electronically this week which means its a binding contract. I told his mother about it, and she's on board.

Best case scenario for me? He gets off to a painfully slow start during this last quarter, and he has straight C's by April 29th. Then I cut that bullshit out of his hair, we have a beautiful time watching track and field at the Penn Relays, and then he goes back to school with renewed focus, and he gets straight A's until the school year is over. That is a little something I like to call a win-win.

So I lost my wedding ring on Saturday...

I had it when I woke up, I had it when I was in the barbershop and I had it when my son and I left the house to try to play miniature golf and then headed to Dave&Busters. But I think while my son and I were playing competitive basketball at D&B, my ring fell off, and I didn't even notice. Somebody told me a few months back that I should remove my ring if I ever played basketball, but I thought I was ok, since I only took a few (about 30) shots. I was wrong...and yes I made more shots than my son.

I left D&B, drove home, watched the Masters with my son, walked to two stores and ran errands and then I realized my ring was gone. It was not in the two stores I visited, and when I called D&B, they could not locate it either. I did the adult thing and told my wife right away, and she was remarkably understanding about it all (she's made a few jokes, but nothing mean), but I still feel bad. I haven't even had that thing for five months and already its gone. Luckily for me, I didn't want an extravagant ring anyway, so it won't cost too much to replace. Still, it was embarrassing, and I cannot let this happen again.

Back to miniature golf..I looked this place up on the Internet, I got directions, I got the phone number, and I drove all the way out there, and the place was gone. It had been torn down and replaced with an under construction parking garage. My son looked at me like I was crazy, while I tried to explain that it used to be there. I even showed him the site, the pictures, the phone number and everything on my phone, so the he would know that his father wasn't a mental patient, but that's exactly what he thought. So for all the people who work at White Flint Golf Park in Rockville, Maryland, and read my blog, I'd like to say f**k you for making me look bad in front of my son. And double f**k you for denying me a chance to play miniature golf.

And finally, I watched some folks play the Michael Jackson Experience on Wii, and I fell in love with it. Now I have to buy a Wii, the MJ game, and the Tiger Woods Masters game. So if anyone knows of any sweet deals, please holler at me. I know I'm late getting in on all this, but hey..I'm old(er), cut me some slack.

My latest article.

My latest article

My son's mother allowed my him to get his hair braided yesterday, and my son sent me a picture, because he continues to seek my approval. I asked him how much it was, he told me $30. I asked him if he liked it, and he said yes but it hurt a bit. I told him I was happy that he liked it, and then there was a pause, and then I told him I had to go because I was in the middle of a Wizards game.

I suppose I could have lied and told him I liked it, but I'm not in the business of lying to my son. He's had 9 months to grow his hair, braid it, twist and do whatever the f**k he wanted to do, and I hope he enjoyed it. This past Sunday I warned my barber that I'd be bringing my son in with a full head of hair, and it was all coming off, and I'm sticking to it this weekend. I'm even giving his mother $40 (I'm assuming she tipped the braider) so she won't bitch and moan about money lost. Enough is enough..he is more than welcome to revisit this sham of a hairdo when he's a senior in high school, and he's gotten into college. I like short hair, I can dig locs, bald heads and even well-kept afros. Cornrows? Hell no.

End of rant.

I would like to spend a special heartfelt shoutout to my main man jazzbrew for saving the day. Last week I attended the Branford Marsalis/Terence Blanchard concert, and although I had a great time, I was a little disappointed that I never got to see them do a song or two together. They helped compose the score of Mo' Better Blues, and I'm sure they had played together in other venues, why couldn't they do it at the Kennedy Center when I was in attendance.

Then yesterday jazzbrew sends me a review from the LA Times. Branford and Terence performed a show out there, and they actually did do two songs together, which made me even angrier that they shortchanged me in DC. Then jazzbrew told me about a cd that came out in 2009 that features Branford, Terence, the great bassist Christian McBride, and drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts (aka the drummer from Bleek's band in Mo Better Blues). The cd is called Watts, Jeff Tain Watts composed all the songs, and I am listening to it right now and it is great. I highly recommend it to both jazz and non-jazz lovers.

First off, please read my article about the Cleveland Cavaliers


Ok now..I'm walking into work with my headphones on listening to Rakim tell me about his melody, when I feel something bump up against my ankle region. I look back and I don't immediately see anything, and I look down, and there's a medium-sized dog sniffing around my ankles. The owner of the dog has his headphones on, and he has one of those leashes stretch as far as the dog runs, but never detach. I continue to look forward thinking this is an isolated incident.

The second time it happened, I simply moved over on the sidewalk, hoping that dumb dog and his dumber owner would get the point and a) walk by me or b) at least walk along side me so the dog would quit sniffing my ankles and putting his wet-ass nose on me. I know that sounds like I'm being a baby, but come on..he's got to control his dog. The third time, the dog actually bumped into me hard enough to make me stumble a bit, and this point I stopped, waiting until the owner came up to me, and we had a little chat.

Me: Hey man
Him (removing his headphones): What's going on man?
Me: You know your dog keeps bumping against me right?
Him: Man I'm jamming here, I didn't even see, I'm so sorry man.
**then he pulls his dog closer and starts petting and talking jibbberish to it**
Me: Its cool, I just didn't know if you knew or you just didn't care or what
Him: My fault man, its cool
Me: Alright take care
Him: You too bro

So I continue to walk, and the owner and the dog continue to walk behind me, and about thirty seconds after we had the conversation that I thought had cleared the air, this dog runs right into my left leg again, causing me to stumble a bit. I look back and the owner is laughing and says, "I did that one on purpose man, I'm just messing with you." I look right at him without laughing and say, "Would you think it was funny if I kicked the sh*t out of your dog?". He stopped laughing, repeated that he was simply kidding, and he walked off in another direction. I didn't say another word.

Now, my track record as a good Christian brother is well-documented on this blog, so I think I handled this relatively well. You just don't joke around like that when a)its not even 8am b)Your dirty ass dog already ran up against me three times when you were none the wiser and c)you don't know me like that. But I've been wrong way more times than I've been right, so I figured I run this by my five readers and get a feel for what you would have done, and whether I'm right or wrong.

I would like to take some time to show some sincere gratitude to the editors at ESPN, my editor Kyle at Truth About It, and Ryan, my former editor at Hoops Addict. They have this magical way of being able to coax another line, another paragraph, more description and more passion out of you, just when you thought you had reached your own writing limitations. They don't tell you exactly what to write, but they drop a few choice words that almost throw down the gauntlet and say, "Look I know you THOUGHT what you wrote was the sh*t, but if you did this, this and that, it would be even better, and I know you're fully capable of doing it, so just do it".

For example, I wrote two articles yesterday, the second of which was finished around 11pm or so. I was tired, hungry, and I wanted to watch the Lakers game and spend some time with my wife--in that order too. I submitted my article and got ready to sit my ass down and relax, but my main man Kyle sent this message back to me:

Very nice stuff Rashad. I would, however, like for you to tell a bit of what happened on the court. Set the scene, describe how you observed LeBron and Wade to be carrying themselves ... I know you have that good ability to analyze people in this regard. I'm going to go edit some good pictures to go with, let me know what you think. Thank you sir.

Now my first impulse was to gift wrap at GFY, and send it right back to his ass via email. The I calmed down and re-read his email, then I re-read what I had written, and I realized he was 100% right. My story had a fever, and the prescription was more words, more description, and yes, more cowbell. I took about 10-15 minutes and wrote a few more paragraphs, and resubmitted my article--and it was to Kyle's satisfaction. Win-Win. So I thank you Kyle and everyone like you who has helped me grow (pause).

Now that article was about Dwyane Wade's backhanded compliments towards the Wizards, and you can read that right here. The earlier in the day I wrote an article about how the movie Star Wars compared to the Wizards/Heat game the other night, and that can be found right here. And finally the ESPN piece I contributed to, is right here. I want you to read them, but you don't give a good goddamn, please forward them on to your basketball friends.

And finally I'm going to post a video that's funny to me..I hope no one gets offended:

I helped with an ESPN piece today.

I met my wife six years ago tomorrow (April 1, 2005, for those who can't do the math). I went to a bar after work because I wanted to enjoy a few beers and watch the Wizards game alone. I walked in the bar and saw my wife and her friend talking to two guys in the corner. I noticed how pretty she was, but I figured she was on a double date or something so I did not press the issue. I ordered my beer and got lost in the Wizards game.

I remember I had a date later that night around 9 or 10, which meant I'd have to leave the bar during the fourth quarter of the Wizards game, and take a 10 minute cab ride to my next destination. Around the second quarter my wife (I know it sounds weird for me to call her my wife, when back then she was nobody, but get over it) sat down next to me and started chatting away. Now I had seen her talking to those other dudes for at least 10-20 minutes, so I had no clue why she was all up in my face, so I did my best to shun her bullshit conversation, and keep my eyes on the game. It did not work.

A few minutes later, her girlfriend came over, and they both were talking to me so much, that I don't even remember what the hell happened in the game. At this point I was actually having good conversations with both of them--but mainly my wife. At one point the song I bought them beers, they returned the favor, I bought shots, they did the same, and I was feeling no pain. But I was sober enough to call my date for the evening (thank god I got her voice mail), cancel the plans we had, turn my phone off, and continue enjoy myself. Yes that was wrong, but hey I was in the moment, and I was not ready to leave.

About an hour later, my wife came up to me and said, "Do you want to come back to my apartment with me and my girlfriend?". Of course I said hell yes, because the first thing on my mind was a threesome. I mean why else would she invite me AND her girlfriend to HER apartment. I just knew this was my lucky day, and if the woman I cancelled my date with complained, I would simply explain to her, "Hey, it was a f**king threesome, what was I supposed to do?"

Well it wasn't a threesome (I still "joke" with my wife and her girlfriend that they owe me for their false advertising). We all talked for another hour, then her girlfriend crashed, and my wife and I talked and "stuff" (no sex was involved though). I woke up the next morning, and her girlfriend left, I went out and bought muffins and orange juice and my wife and I ended up talking all damn day until around 3pm (again, no sex was involved). At 3, she had a massage appointment, and I had a Final Four party to attend with my boy. When I left her apartment, I was happy and I had like 10 angry messages and texts from the woman I cancelled with..and I didn't even care.

My wife and I dated for a few months but it didn't work out, and after 5 or 6 months of no contact (except for one night when her and her sister drunkenly called me talking jibberish), she emailed me out of the blue, and we became platonic friends for another two years until we re-connected. The rest is history..I think I've told this story in my blog before, but who cares, it never gets old--not to me at least.

And the song playing on the jukebox when I met my wife was the one you see below. My wife knew none of the words except the, "I got more than just some good d**k and some money" [Very classy.

My Confessions

I had a dream that I was in a shoe store by myself picking out shoes for me and my son. I tried on my shoes, I told the kid who was working in the shoe store to go get my son's size, and then I went to the counter to pay for everything in cash. I specifically remember paying cash, because I dropped a $20 bill on the ground, and this lady behind me was nice enough to alert me of this, and give it back to me. I finished up my transaction, thanked the kid who helped me, and I walked out of the store. I did not remember him giving me my receipt, so as I walked out of the store, I opened the bag, and looked around for it, and I accidentally bumped into this younger gentleman.

This youngster looked back at me, told me to watch where I was f**king going, and then he flicked my baseball cap off (I'll admit I did not even realize I was wearing one, until he knocked it off). I remember saying I was sorry, and I remember him retorting by saying "whatever b**ch", and then I remember cocking my fist back getting ready to hit this dude, and then my 5:25am alarm went off letting me know that it was time to go swimming. I was so mad when I woke up that I immediately shut my alarm off, and I laid there for a few minutes, hoping I could go back to sleep, and rumble with this young fella. But it never really works out like that does it? I didn't go back to sleep, but I did go to the pool and swim like a good boy. What does this dream mean? I have no clue..I have a bad temper, but I'm usually not that quick to fight.

Speaking of the pool, I would like to send a genuine, heartfelt shoutout to the dude who swam for about 30 minutes in a speedo, came back to the locker room, left the speedo on the bench that's between the lockers, and then went to go shower. Dude you either hang your speedo on the side of the locker, or you put it in your bag, but you do NOT leave clothing that was in your ass, and all up on your franks and beans, in a common area, I don't care if you were in the pool with chlorine. That's sh*t is nasty.

A Review of the Branford Marsalis/Terence Blancard show

My son did not make the 8th grade basketball team. He called me early on Saturday morning to give the disappointing news, but he was pretty candid about why he did not make it. He told me that in the weeks leading up to the tryout, he had not worked on his game the way that he should have, and he thinks he wasn't as comfortable with the ball as some of his classmates. I told him that I was cut from my 8th and 9th grade teams, but I worked hard on my game, went to basketball camps, played against older kids, and by the 10th grade I was right in there. I asked him if he wanted to bail on basketball, and go back to football (which is his first love) and he said hell no..he wanted to stick with basketball until he made the team. For good measure, I told him that Michael Jordan got cut from his 9th grade team, but my son told me he knew that already.

If Branford Marsalis and Terence Blanchard come to your city, please go see them and support good jazz music. The wife and I went to see them at the Kennedy Center on Saturday night, and it was excellent. They performed about 45 minutes each with an intermission in between the two acts, and it flew by. They did beautiful ballads, songs that showed off their bands impeccable improvisations skills, and you could tell both bands were definitely simpatico (although Branford's band had a little more personality). My only regret was that the two guys never performed together which I found odd consider they shared top billing. They at least could have performed a song from Mo' Better Blues or something..

And finally I saw Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's documentary, "On the Shoulders of Giants" yesterday and it was excellent. If you have cable, its on demand under movies, and its only $5...its definitely worth it.

On the Shoulders of Giants | Kareem Abdul-Jabbar | Leonard Maltin | Maltin on Movies | Movie Trailer | Review

My latest article

No words today, just a video from 3 years ago, that's still funny to me:

First off, I would like to sent a big shoutout to Netflix, who has yet to make the third season of Breaking Bad available. I saw it on Amazon and other places, but for whatever reason, you all have yet to add it to your list of DVDs, and I am not pleased about that at all. The wife and I zoomed through the first two seasons, and we are captivated and hooked on the series--not quite as hooked as we were when watched The Wire last year around this time, but close enough. Now we have to resort to catching it when it comes on AMC (oh and f**k you AMC for delaying the start of Mad Men), and frankly that is not good enough. Do the right thing and make it happen please.

Second, have you ever been walking down the street with your headphnes on and your favorite song is blaring through your earbuds? You know all the words, background vocals, instruments, etc, and you are feeling invicible and happy, and you may even throw in some emphatic hand gestures for effect, because you're feeling that good. Then you see someone you know. This isn't someone you've gone ages without seeing, but this is someone you see about 5 or 6 times a year and you may even trade emails with them every now and then. For a quick second you think about doing a stop and chat, but then you think about how much of a nuisance it is to stop your song, remove your earbuds, put them in your pockets, pause your ipod, and then listen to the bullshit that will inevitably come out of this person's mouth in the two or three minutes of their time you may or may not choose to give them? So what do you do? Do you

a)Just keep walking like CeCe Peniston and hope they don't see you?
b)Take one earbud out, say hi, all without stopping
c)Stop and chat

My new tried and true method to avoid these situations is to pull out my ipod and start changing the song, adjusting the volume, playing with imaginary buttons..anything that will allow me to fake getting distracted and walk by people. I'm not rude or mean, I just want to be left alone on the mean streets of DC. If you see me, just don't bother me, but send me a creepy email saying you saw me, and then we can converse online like normal dysfunctional people.

And lastly, my son tried out for the basketball team yesterday (youth basketball in the Spring seems odd to me too), and I asked him to assess his chances of making the team. He said there were 6 people better than him and 12 total will make the team, so he likes his chances. I like that kind of athletic honesty. I hope he makes it though, so I sit in the stands and quietly give him confidence, the way my father did for me. I always respected the quiet, confident parents over the loud, boisterous ones. Kids need encouragement, not embarassment.

This Jalen Rose vs Grant Hill business that surfaced last week, and has lingered into this one, has made me think about my own uncomfortable high school basketball experience.

I played basketball for Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland. Potomac is mostly white its very rich, and there was a certain stigma attached to living in that area. My parents had money, but as my father told my brother and I all the time, HE had money, MY MOTHER had money, we were kids, which meant we had nothing. Those were his Midwest sensibilities at work. As a result, while other kids in my neighborhood and beyond had parents who hired folks to do landscaping, bought them cars, and spoiled them beyond belief, my brother and I did the landscaping, did not get cars, and were made to feel like we were living well below what we really were. In hindsight, I appreciate that, but at the time, I felt like I was missing out on the true rich experience..whatever the f**k that was..

So my basketball team consisted of 10 white dudes and 2 black guys including me. The other black guy on the team was African, and he always seemed oblivious to any racial tension, but I'll get back to that later. We played ball in Montgomery County, Maryland which is vast and very diverse. On my side of town there were schools that were as white as Churchill, and then in the Wheaton/Silver Spring area, there were schools that might as well of been HBCUs. When those seemingly all black high schools came to Churchill, I was always comfortable, because they were on my home turf in front of fans and students I was used to seeing.

But when we went to go play games at their schools, I was totally uncomfortable and justifiably so. I'd hear black students from the other side calling me sellout, wannabe, white boy, Uncle Tom-ass nigga, etc. My African teammate never seemed to be bothered by this..perhaps he had thicker skin, or maybe those insults didn't really resonate with him, but they sure as hell bothered me. It didn't help that my school didn't see it necessary to buy baggy shorts for our basketball team, so I was getting insulted in nut-huggers, while other team had baggy, Jordan-like shorts. It was humiliating, and I was angry, embarrassed and frustrated before the games, during warm ups, at halftime, and then after the game when we left via the team bus.

During the games, I ignored all that b.s., because I knew I could play and I knew my talent-level was just as good, if not better than the other kids. Their parents may have had a little less money or chosen to live in a different part of the county, but that had nothing to do with how all of us played ball. Still, I just remember looking at the basketball schedule back then, and completely dreading the trips to certain schools, because I knew I'd be ridiculed, and there was no one on the team I could talk to..not my coach, not my teammates, no one...Only when I got home to my parents could I voice my displeasure, but they really couldn't help me when I got out on the front lines. The funny part of this story is that when I ran track in the spring against these same guys in front of those same insulting fans..I never heard a peep. Only one the basketball court..

Anyway, thanks for humoring me. I'll end on a lighter note. It took me 26 years to figure out what Tina Turner was talking about in the song you'll see below, but it hit me (and my wife) this past weekend. Tina Turner was talking about strippers...I am SLOW.

So I took the wife shopping this weekend at the outlet in Williamsburg and one of the outlets we went to was the Coach outlet. Hundreds of women, black and white, young and old, stood in line (they only let a certain number of people in the store at a time), waiting to get their grubby little hands on some of Coach's finest products. It was like watching March Madness for women in there, and I just did my best to stay the hell out of the way.

But when we were in the line to purchase items, I noticed a curious looking family in front of us. There was a mother, a daughter and a son. The son (and he may have been a cousin or a nephew) looked like a normal, skinny 14 year old boy. The mother looked to weigh about 300-325 lbs, she was about 5'3", her hair was done to the nines, and her outfit looked stretched as hell but respectable. Her daughter was about 5'1", she couldn't have been more than 10 years old, and she was easily 200lbs, although I would not be shocked if she weighed more. Her hair wasn't done, her clothes were dirty, and she was touching every damn thing on the counter, while her mother paid for her THREE purses.

Now I do my best not to judge people and their circumstances, but that sight was tailor-made for judging..so I judged in the form of rhetorical questions directed to my wife. There were so many things wrong with that picture it was ridiculous...it was like one of those picture in Highlights magazine when you have to find all the things that were out of place:

1) That child was WAY too young to be that overweight, and the mother should be punished for allowing that to happen. If its a medical condition or a thyroid situation, then fine. But it looked like a child who eats a lot, and then sits on her ass..that's the mother's fault. Kids need to run around, do some type of activity, or just flat out eat less.

2) Parents can look nice with their hair, nails and whatever else done up, but their kids should look just as nice, and at the very least clean. That little girl looked like her hair hadn't been done in ages, and her clothes had the kind of dirt that just looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. If the family is poor and struggling, I totally understand that..but to be buying THREE coach bags (even at the outlet, that's easily $500-700) when the physical appearances are lacking, is just uncool

3)The mother made the daughter (not the son) carry all three bags, and you could just tell by the way she handed her the bags, that their relationship was kind of chilly. Now I could be just nitpicking here, but the body language on both ends was telling, and the older boy should be carrying the bags. That's what gentleman(even young ones) should be learning.

I'm pretty sure I'm not capturing how disturbing the image was, which means I'm coming off like some sort of self-righteous, judging ass..and that's fine. But if you had seen what I saw, you'd be disturbed as well. Or maybe its just me..

So yesterday, the wife and I were on our way to happy hour, when we walked by a nail salon that had this sign outside on the window:


My wife brought it to my attention, and we were getting ready to walk by it, and I decided that it deserved to captured via camera phone. In my mind, I tried to come up with scenarios where what was written would be sufficient--I could not. I was tempted to make my own sign and post it right under that one, but that would be doing too much..although I'd get a huge kick out of it. Here were my sign options

1)Receptionist(s) need(ed) it(!)
2) Receptionist, need one!
3) Or Receptionists needed
4) Editor need it more
5)Punctuation and letters needed as well...

That's all I came up with.

Also I would like to give a shot to my main man, and NBA star Kevin Durant for giving my article a shoutout on his website and again on twitter. Any little exposure I can get is appreciated.

Finally I would like to give a birthday shoutout to my lovely wife who is celebrating her birthday today. I don't know if she would be happy with me mentioning that she's turning 38 today, but I just did. My gift(s) will offset any anger she has..

Ride the Wave...

By the way, I'm writing a manual for my job and I'm writing Wizards-related stuff, so this blog is going to suffer until Friday, We ask for your patience.

Three members of the Oklahoma City Thunder talked to me about the Michigan Fab Five documentary and you can read about it right here.

First off, I'd like to respectfully ask that you read my article.

Second, I have to say that the Robert Glasper concert on Friday night was absolutely amazing, although selfishly speaking, I wish he had gone longer than an hour (that's what she said). The band basically played one hour-long song, and they played classics like Coltrane's "Love Supreme", newer songs like Bilal's "All Matter", and then ended with a brief tribute to J Dilla by playing Slum Village's "Fall in Love".

But the best part of the show was not the show on stage, but rather the family sitting next to my wife and me. There was a couple that looked to be in their mid-30s, and they had their two boys with them. One boy looked to be about five or six years old, and the other was around two. Naturally, the two year old was sleep in his father's lap, but the six year old was definitely into it. He was drumming on the tables, and he was making facial expressions like he was really into the music, and on more than one occasion, Mr. Glasper gave the kid the thumbs up. I was proud of the parents for exposing their kids to jazz, and I was jealous that my son wasn't with me. It was a great moment.

And lastly, if you haven't watched the Fab 5 documentary, you should catch it. As I told my main man (and college roommate) Sabin last night, that wasn't just a regular documentary..he and I actually lived that during our early college years, so we were emotionally invested. Eventually I'll gather my thoughts and write something eloquent, but for now, I'll just say go watch it.

Oh and one more thing..my alma mater (THE Hampton University) will be taking on the hated Duke Blue Devils in the first round of the NCAA tournament on Friday I'd ask that you root for my team to pull off the colossal upset. And who did Hampton beat to gain entry into the NCAA tournament? My wife's sorry ass Morgan State Bears.

So yesterday (and I thank my main man jazzbrew for alerting me to this fact) Washington Wizards owner took yet another shot at me and my writing via his blog. I do believe he is still irritated over this article I wrote last week, so when I wrote this article a couple of days ago, he decided that he'd take a few more shots at me....he even mocked my Jerry Maguire-inspired title.

This time, instead of just sitting idly by and taking that ever elusive high road, I decided to say something. You see Mr. Leonsis (he may be wrong, but he's still rich and powerful, which means he still deserves the respect of being called "Mr.") is still operating under the premise that I don't agree with the current rebuilding approach he's taking with the Washington Wizards. What he failed to glean from my initial article is that I do indeed understand what he's doing (even if it isn't working right now), but there are some fans who are impatient, as evidenced by the spotty attendance as of late. But Mr. Leonsis is ignoring some of the facts, just so he can make himself look good..he's neither the first or last person of power to do such a thing. So I left this comment in his blog yesterday..no response as of yet.

Now, I will not lie, it does the ego good to know that not only does the owner read my work, but it gets under his skin just a bit, because he hints at that in his blog. That means more people read and discuss what I write and that my friends is a little something I like to call a win-win situation. However, my need to have the last word has now superseded by desire to be recognized. I don't mind Mr. Leonsis talking about me, but I DO want to be represented correctly, and I do want the upper hand..or at least as much of the upper hand as you can get against someone who is damn near a billionaire..

If you live in the Washington DC area and you need something to do on Friday and Saturday, please go to Bohemian Caverns and go see Mr. Robert Glasper. He is a jazz pianist (pronounced penis), and he's played with Brian McKnight, The Roots, Bilal, Mos Def, Kanye West etc. He's a young guy, he's brilliant, and this is part of my endless quest (my main men jazzbrew and neil are doing it too) to keep traditional jazz alive.

So if you go to the 8:30 show on Friday, my wife and I will say hello to you initially, and then ignore you, but we will appreciate (from afar) your presence..but seriously, I will buy you a drink. If you go to the later show, or if you go on Saturday, I promise you that you won't regret it. If you can't make the show, check out Mr. Glasper's discography, and buy something. I'm off my soapbox now..

Read my article please.

Robert Glasper - One For 'Grew (For Mulgrew Miller)

Help Me Help You

In sports there are always those talented athletes who have no problems telling you how smart they are, and how football was an option not the only one. On one hand its refreshing to see a well-rounded athlete buck the stereotype and articulate their thoughts and feelings in a respectable manner. But on the other side, I find myself wondering if they ever alienated their teammates with their behavior..after all, it seems like more athletes--especially in the major sports--are playing sports out of necessity, not because it is simply one of their options.

Tiki Barber was this kind of an athlete when he played for the Giants. He was always smart, but early in his career he had a problem with fumbling the ball, so he wasn't a respected member of the football team. Then he rectified his issues, and became a major, contributing member of the football team who combined brains and brawn. But on the side, he was doing occasional work with NBC..flexing his intelligence and his journalistic skills--and he did a great job I might add.

So Tiki became bored with football and he decided that the taste of journalistic success via the Today show and the NFL broadcast on NBC was way too much to ignore. He retired at the early age of 31 to pursue this career, and made it a point to stress how nice it was to have options as a smart man..and I didn't blame him at all, given that some football players are pushed out or forced to retire--not Tiki though.

Tiki's career got off to a strong start, when he immediately starting criticizing his former NY Giants team, because of their early struggles. He had the inside track because he just been with the team the prior season, but he was violating the locker room code by dry snitching on his teammates. Tiki came off looking like the ultimate insider, because his criticisms were right on point. But when the Giants turned things around and won the Super Bowl, and then made a point to mention they won it without Tiki, things got weirder and Tiki got quieter.

Tiki's decline as a journalist was a slow and painful one. He appeared on the Today show less, and the NFL in America show on NBC starting featuring him less frequently. Then Tiki left his 8 month pregnant wife for a 21 year old woman, and his wife tried to take him to the cleaners, and Tiki cried broke given that his once bright star as a journalist had faded like Big Daddy Kane's old haircut. Money wasn't coming in like he had anticipated, and neither were those NFL checks. This was all last year by the way..

So when Tiki announced yesterday that his recent workout with his trainer had him feeling like he wanted to come back to the NFL for the love and challenge of the game, I quietly said to myself, "We don't believe you Tiki, and frankly, you need more people."

So today I had to endure my first jury duty selection processs, and it was a bitch. There were dress code violations galore, I saw plenty of male and female asscrack, there were loud people, ignorant people, friendly ones, overly chatty ones etc. I got harassed at the security desk because I brought my video camera and my recorder (I have a Wizards game to attend to tonight), and the the guards thought I was trying to record the proceedings..it was quite an experience.

I did my very best to get out of having to serve, but the people who I shared the rooom with were way crazier than I was, which meant I was chosen by default. So Thursday (and maybe Friday) I will performing my civic duty..and preparing to blog about everything (once its over of course).

This is an article my father wrote for a publication called Maryland Entrepreneur Quarterly. Its long but its good..that's what she said.



The Mobley Moment


By Michael A. Mobley, CONTRIBUTING EDITOR



The "nature" versus "nurture" argument is a long-standing one and is applicable to virtually every aspect of life. Was Michael Jordan born a great basketball player, or did he have to really work at it? Were Martin Luther King's oratory skills inherent, or did training as a Baptist minister develop this talent? Would Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt been considered great presidents if they had not led the nation through great crises? Was that idiot in the next office born that way, or ... well, you get the point.

Discussions of "nature" versus "nurture" with regard to entrepreneurs rage in business and academic circles. Most definitions of entrepreneurs include concepts of innovation and risk. Indeed, entrepreneurs are often thought of as being wired differently than most people. This is the fundamental rationale used by those who espouse the belief that entrepreneurs are born, not made. I am a believer in that rationale and support the "nature" argument.

Clouding this "either-or" approach to the issue, however, is that whether or not one is an entrepreneur, ongoing success in business requires innovation, management of risk, training and continuous learning. An entrepreneur who operates impatiently and rejects assistance to become a better businessperson is setting the stage for debilitating failure. A businessperson who does not foster a culture of innovation and rejects risk likely suffers a similar fate.

Continuous training and vision are particularly important for the entrepreneur who has created a successful enterprise. As revenues, profits and market share soar, business leaders often take their eyes off the ball in terms of customers, markets and innovation.

A colleague of mine noted that confidence can be defined as "arrogance under control." With the aforementioned entrepreneurs and business leaders, what was once confidence devolved into arrogance, often to the detriment of the future of the business.

An example of a once-innovative entrepreneur who misread future trends was Ken Olsen, co-founder of Digital Equipment Corporation, commonly known as DEC (full disclosure: I was offered two jobs by DEC in the late 1980s, but turned them down). Olsen, who died in February 2011, founded DEC in 1957 and is considered a pioneer and an icon in the computer industry.

DEC's success was in creating minicomputers used by scientists, engineers and other math-oriented professionals who did not require the huge mainframes used by large corporations. During its peak in the 1980s, DEC was the second largest computer maker behind IBM and employed 120,000 people. In 1986, Fortune magazine called Olsen "America's most successful entrepreneur." By 1992, DEC sales were $14 billion.

But, all too often, success leads to complacency and confidence becomes arrogance. In 1977 Ken Olsen made a prediction that spoke to that arrogance, foretold the demise of his career and his company and, regardless of all of his innovation and historic achievements, became his legacy.

Olsen famously said: "There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in their home." Well, alrighty, then! I guess we can safely say that he whiffed on that pitch.

By the early 1990s, DEC's fortunes began to decline with the advent of personal computers and desktop workstations. The company had its first quarterly loss in 1990 and, shortly thereafter, Olsen cut staffing at the company. DEC also continued its focus on proprietary technology as opposed to open systems using Intel microprocessors and UNIX software.

Olsen simply and tragically missed what was a predictable direction of the market. As a computer user early in my career, I chafed at having to sign up for computer time and go to a special computer room to perform my analysis. I longed for the convenience of having a computer in my office and/or at my home. The opportunity was there for all to see.

In 1992, Olsen left DEC at the request of the board. After several unsuccessful attempts to regain market share, DEC was acquired by Compaq Computer in 1998. Hewlett-Packard acquired Compaq and what remained of DEC in 2002.

Ken Olsen is still revered and considered a precursor to Bill Gates of Microsoft and Steve Jobs of Apple. Ironically, Gates and his Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen, used a DEC computer to create the first version of the BASIC programming language for the personal computer. Further, Dave Cutler, a former DEC employee, developed the Windows NT and Azure operating systems for Microsoft.

My entrepreneurship students at Howard Community College have never heard of DEC or Ken Olsen. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs are their godfathers of the modern computer industry.

This is akin to not understanding that before Michael Jordan, there were Julius Erving, Connie Hawkins and Elgin Baylor; that before Martin Luther King, there was Frederick Douglass; that before Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt, there were leaders all over the world who, throughout history, held their nations together in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. History can be cruel, and one's legacy is often beyond one's control. Ken Olsen deserved better, but the market overruled him.

Upon further review, perhaps the "nature" versus "nurture" argument vis-ˆ-vis entrepreneurs is not particularly relevant. If the ultimate goal is to create a viable, profitable going concern, then every little bit helps.

Gap analysis is the order of the day. Creativity, innovation and risk management are requirements. Continued focus on customers and markets is an absolute necessity. Upgrading one's skills is part of the success formula. Whether made or born, entrepreneur or business leader, the formula for a profitable going concern is the same: You need to do it all.



Michael Mobley is executive director of j-ref (www.jref.org), a small business financier that provides loans and consultation services to Howard County entrepreneurs. He also teaches a course on entrepreneurship at Howard Community College. He may be reached at 410-313-6170 or mmobley@jref.org.

Yesterday, I got in trouble at work. Today the owner of the Washington Wizards criticized me in his blog because of the article I wrote. I may have to defend myself on this one...

So in the midst of the bad day I was having yesterday, I made the type of error that could have very well cost me my precious job. There was an email exchange going on with about 6 people from work copied, including myself and my boss who I am cool with. A fellow co-worker of mine who works in another building was requesting some information, and my boss provided for her in prompt fashion. Then this same person needed some additional information from a third party, and she asked my boss if she would mind getting that too. My boss said yes, and then my co-worker implied that she didn't mind getting it herself if need be. At this point, I jumped in and sent an email that said, "If she didn't mind, she would have gotten it herself."

Now I thought I was sending that email to just my boss, but it turns out that I sent that email to the very co-worker I was making fun of..this is someone who if she wanted to, could raise enough hell to make me unemployed. Now this wasn't the worse case scenario in which I could have copied every damn body on the email chain, so I should thank my lucky stars for that. Still those 10 minutes in between me accidentally sending that email, and me finally getting a response were painfully uncomfortable. I asked my boss what I should do, and she suggested I act like it didn't happen, then she told me to try to laugh it off, because this particular co-worker was cool. I was way too frazzled to come up with an effective plan of action, so I left my office completely to go get some water.

When I came back to my computer, there was an email from my co-worker that said, "I like to think of myself as a team player Rashad!", and then she ended it with a smiley face. I can readily admit that I think smiley faces at the end of emails are corny and pretentious, but when I saw my co-worker end her sentence with one, I was ecstatic. I also knew this was my cue to pick up the phone, and try to make this right, so that's exactly what I did.

Co-worker (who say the caller id and knew it was me): Hi Rashad

Me: Hey there..yeah I can't really apologize for what I said, because clearly I was trying to be smart, but I do apologize for being dumb enough to send it to you

Co-worker (laughing): That's fine Rashad, I honestly think it was funny

Me: I know but still..and if you want to come to my office and help me get my foot out of my mouth, I certainly won't stop you

Co-worker (still laughing): Rashad its fine, its no big deal, we're still cool

**a bit of an awkward pause**

Me: Ok well that's all I got, I'm going to run now, and again I'm sorry for the uncomfortable moment

Co-worker: Its no problem Rashad

Now I do believe that she thought it was funny, and I don't think she's upset about it. But I DO think she's going to get me back in somehow when I least expect it. I do know that last night right before I was scheduled to leave for the day, she requested me to research something, and normally I would have ignored it until I got in this morning. But due to my f**k up earlier in the day, I stayed right at my desk an extra 15 minutes in attempt to fulfill her request. And when the person I needed info from turned out to be gone for the day, I sent my co-worker a detailed email saying I'd follow up with rest of her request in the morning. I was very thorough even though it was after hours..this woman basically has me by the balls for a little while...

Anyway, please read this article on how I would cheer up Washington Wizards fans.

Shoutout to my brother who sent me the video version of the quote I posted yesterday;

How To Cure The Malaise of Wizards Fans

I am having a rough day..the kind of day, where I wish I could walk in and use this line by Joe Pesci in the movie "Casino":

I think in all fairness, I should explain to you exactly what it is that I do. For instance tomorrow morning I'll get up nice and early, take a walk down over to the bank and... walk in and see and, uh... if you don't have my money for me, I'll... crack your fuckin' head wide-open in front of everybody in the bank. And just about the time that I'm comin' out of jail, hopefully, you'll be coming out of your coma. And guess what? I'll split your fuckin' head open again. 'Cause I'm fuckin' stupid. I don't give a fuck about jail. That's my business. That's what I do.

A playoff state of mind

It is confession time..

I'll admit that part of me was a bit fearful of both the short and long term effects of a government shutdown. I do a decent job of saving my money and all that, but these things can get tricky, and a one week shutdown could lead to two, three and beyond. Plus I am contractor, so when government money gets tight, they are quick to downsize, get rid of us, and plug in another government worker. So I won't say I was panicking or anything, but I was definitely paying attention to what the House and Senate leaders were saying on a day-to-day basis. I'm really hoping that are pro-active in finding another resolution beyond this two-week one they just agreed to, but if its anything like NFL and NBA labor conflicts, they will definitely wait until the very last minute...BUT

Part of me was happy that a government shutdown was (and maybe still) on the horizon. I wanted at least a week off from my regular job, and I wanted to see the type and volume of writing I could do without the "burden" of a 9 to 5. I wanted to cover a Wizards practice, write about a random NBA game, take the time to sit down and analyze patterns, trends, statistics, other authors, re-examine my own writing, etc. Its tough to do that, work my job, do personal things, and be a father and a husband all at the same time. But if I were to temporarily remove my job from the equation, I could do a dry run on a trial basis.

Of course if I had accrued a little more wealth, I'd quit my job and just do this full-time, but I'm not there just yet. Plus this is very selfish of me, because there are some people who would really be crippled by a government shutdown, and they would not give a damn about all the good things I was able to accomplish on the writing front, and nor should they be. But I'm rooting for a one-week shutdown, so if you're reading this and this angers, I extend you my sincerest apologies, but I invite to read my work while you're sitting at home that week. I predict big things.