Part of being mature and grown-up means being able to recognize your mistake and admit when you are wrong. The other part is to stop wearing Velcro shoes. If my own life experiences haven't taught me this, the countless staged press-conferences with the likes of George Michael, Marv Albert, Marion Barry, Latrell Spreewell, and Bob Livingston have shown me that the only true way to seek forgiveness is by shedding some tears on national TV. Since I can't really do that, I'll do the next best thing and write a column.
Dear Reader, as a citizen of the nation that loves to forgive, I'd like to atone for some mistakes in judgement that I've made and ask for your forgiveness.
First off, in a column titled "Hoop Dreams," published the day the NBA lock-out ended, I wrote that the NBA had a lot of work to do to win back its embittered fans. I was wrong about that, as this excerpt from an ESPN.com News Services proves: "The surge of fans [at the free-admission Raptors/Celtics exhibition game in Toronto] created a mini-stampede that left dozens of women and children in tears as well as four smashed doors and some broken turnstiles. It was so crowded that the faces of the people in the front of the line were being smashed against the glass doors." I shudder to think how much worse it would have been if either team were capable of playing better ball than Hanover High.
I've made some pretty big mistakes about my long-held beliefs, apparently. As someone who doesn't feel the government should have control over what we can and cannot do to our bodies, I consider myself Pro-Choice (which is very different from Pro-Abortion). According to Dr. Jason Roberts' Jan. 22 Letter to the Editor, "Legality of Abortion Leads to Drain in Talent" people who would have considered abortion in the case of an un-wed, pregnant teenager would "have recommended the murder of Jesus Christ." After many hours of trying to figure out how Roberts came about his jump of logic, I realized that there was no point in even trying. It makes about as much sense as the people who murder abortion doctors while calling themselves Pro-Life. In any case, my apologies to the good doctor.
I'd also like to apologize for biting the ear off of Evander Holyfield in the heat of battle. Oh wait, that wasn't me -- I don't sound like Elmer Fudd, my neck is smaller than my waist, and I don't have single gold tooth.
I'd like to extend my heartfelt apologies to all the apes, chimps, and monkeys for ever doubting them as my true ancestors. I guess my faith in God, in something higher and more powerful than science and numbers and theories is something for which I should be sorry. What was I thinking? I never should have believed that random mutations and survival-of-the-fittest could produce such great and varied results without the help of God. Every time I went through the old family photo-album, I'd come to that same picture of primordial ooze and think, "Who is that guy?" But it was my Great Uncle Patrick, who lived a long time before me. Sorry, science.
From the bottom of my heart, let me apologize for all the times I've lied under the guise of "journalistic license."
In closing, I'd like to apologize for beating up those fourth graders on the Hood Museum field trip. Even though the fat kid was really asking for it. I'd also like to apologize to everyone who was offended by this and other columns. More importantly, I'd like to apologize to everyone who was not offended by this.
I implore you, Dear Reader, to find it in your heart to forgive me.