Editor’s note: Five year ago on this day my dad passed away. The letter below was sent to my friends because I felt guilty about my relationship with my dad. He put in a lot of work to get me to this point in my life and I wish that I could have been there for him at the moment that he needed me the most. Although I had repaired the strain that my teenage years put on that bond we had it can never make up for lost time. If you have a family member or a friend that you truly love please take a minute today to tell them that you love them. Do that for my dad and me.
I have some sad news to relay to you all. My dad died yesterday morning. He passed away due to a massive coronary failure and this was a shock to the immediate family since he has had no history of heart problems. I am more likely to have a heart attack than he was. He had been in the hospital recently for a pancreas condition but there was no inkling that he was having any heart issues since his EKG and blood pressure tests both appeared normal. On tuesday morning as he prepared himself for work he felt chest pains. He continued with his prep until about an hour or so later when he realized that he needed some help. He phoned the ambulance service and he was rushed to the hospital. Inside the hospital as he has undergoing treatment his heart stopped and the doctors could not revive him.
I am sad for his passing, but what compounds this feeling of sadness is the fact that I have never been one to accept the responsibility that is usually reserved for an eldest child. I did not have any concerns for anyone other than myself and I lived my life without the cognizance that there was someone else that was watching me and heavily influenced by my actions. I spent time in and out of jail and other troubles and everytime that I needed someone to bail me out he was always there. He certainly didn’t have to be because he wasn’t my father, and one day I told him so to his face.
CLARENCE PENN married my mom after meeting her at NYU night school. She had divorced my father, DALLAS ELLIS, two years after I was born because of his habitual drug use and his physical abuse. Mr.PENN knew that my mom had me and he accepted the responsibility of being my father. He worked hard to put me through prep schools and provide the experiences for me that would help me excel in life. In my teenage years I began to resent him because I felt that he was too demanding of me. I left my parents house at 17 after being thrown out of Brooklyn Technical High School and quitting the work-study program at City-As-School.
I spent the next ten years in a virtual detente with my father. Not speaking more than a hello and not offering more than a good bye. Even though we used my mother as a conduit for communication, we never shared a conversation. When I needed money for college because I refused to take any loans, he would send me a check for tuition through my mother. This situation may have have continued up to his death but when I was 27 he gave me a phone call.
My dad asked me to help him out with my kid brother who was falling prey to the same demons that attack most of us middle-class Black kids. The peer pressure to affirm your Blackness through criminality. Its sometimes as if our skin color doesn’t satisfy that confirmation, so then we must go into the world and perpetuate a stereotype. That my dad turned to me at this moment was a profound revelation. He could have called on so many other people that were close to him, but that he came to me for help was so humbling to me. Ten years prior I had broken his heart to the core, but here he was before me on bended knee asking for my assistance.
All I can say to you is that from that point forward I learned more about brotherhood, fatherhood and manhood than in the 28 years prior. One thing for certain is that getting someone pregnant is the most miniscule part of fatherhood. There is a value system and a dedication to principles and community. Then there is an unconditional love for family and friends. Unconditional love requires the courage and heart of a lion. This is probably why I took it for granted that Mr.PENN’s heart could last forever. I owe my father now more than I can ever repay him and that is the saddest part of his passing.
I thank you all for allowing me this moment to cry on your shoulders and for lending my family your prayers and your support.
I’m not a Kobe stan by any stretch of the imagination, but I will tell you this…
KOBE > LeBRON
Okay, my bad. That was stannish. Slightly lightly. Riddle me this tho’ hoopsheads…
Kobe > Jordan?
In a few more years some of you may have to admit that Kobe Bryant was better than Michael Jordan.
The above statement looks like multi-tiered blasphemy today, but I’m asking some of you to consider a future where Kobe Bryant has won more than six championships and scored more points, and given more assists, and won more big games.
It will be ever so close tho’ and decided by percentage points. I don’t know math too tough so I’ma have to take out my crayons and the what not. Let’s use what we got to see what we see true believers. -(c)Stan Lee x George Clinton
Kobe is becoming the Showbee we always knew he could be.
However, Michael Jordan remains the generational standard bearer because you can’t count anyone who played in the tight pants era(Russell, Chamberlain, Magic, Bird). Kobe would have been just like Jerry West if he played in that era, but Kobe is in the Long Shorts era. In the Long Shorts era the team game is supplanted by the megastar. His journey has to be spectacularly singular. That’s what the marketing division said.
Jordan was able to develop the ego to fit the Stern School of Athletic Business model. Kobe doesn’t have the ego to match Michael Jordan’s. Kobe walks alone off the court, but plays the team game when on it. Jordan takes a greater percentage of his team’s shots and then buys everyone beer and hoo ers after the game. I could go and on with anecdotal facts about both players but I know why you fux with DP.com anyhoo.
The pictures and graphical shit.
Just know that one of these days you gonna have to give Kobe some of Jordan’s wigs.
G.O.A.T. Longshortsmen Graphical Shit
Jordan edges Kobe FG percentagewise and also takes more shots per minutes of playing time. Jordan is the one who ISN’T passing the ball.
For the average of 3-pointers attempted per minute of playing time Kobe goes in from deep [ll] more than Jordan does. Kobe is slightly more accurate also.
Kobe better FT shooter and averages more attempts per game.
Push on the rebounds. Kobe on the assists. Jordan edges on the steals. Push on the blocks.
Jordan is a better corporate chump.
Jordan is also a major D-bag. I’ma let Chamillionaire tell it.
Kobe has better advisors. Michael loses a record amount to alimony and he wears a nazi moustache.
Kobe likes to stuff it in the poophoop [ll].
At the end of the day who cares about these assholes?
One of my favorite basketball teams of all-time is the Harlem Globetrotters. Don’t laugh out loud when I tell you that I thought they were actually a REAL team, too good to play in the league with the other teams because they always won.
The truth about the Globetrotters is that they were actually a professional team in their beginnings during a time in America when Black athletes had to exist within the separate and unequal parameters of this country’s fringe. Just like baseball’s Negro League barnstormers would have exhibitions against players from the majors, the Globetrotters would match up against NBA teams like the great Minneapolis Lakers and they would triumph more often than not.
Team owners and league officials realized that Black athletes were the perfect exotic draw to their flagging businesses so as white professional leagues pushed towards integration it meant that the pro teams and clubs that weren’t within their jurisdiction would end up going out of business. Not so much for the Harlem Globetrotters who incorporated entertainment elements within their athletic exhibitions. They mixed their basketball skills with a touch of Vaudeville.
Nike’s putting out some Dunk Lo’s for kids this summer they are calling the ‘Independence Day’. If I had a kid I would copp these kicks for him or her as a testament to the independent spirit of Abe Saperstein and all of the Harlem Globetrotters past and present.
As a kid I never knew the backstory of this team and what it meant to my dad to watch them play. I just thought they were good. And funny. And what else does a child need but to be happy? The realities of the world will find him soon enough.
